Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 168980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
Last one.
I finish strong.
Akara takes the bar and sets it in the holder.
I grin. “Top that, Kits.”
Banks smiles while doing bicep curls. He rarely uses a mirror. Just faces me while he works out, and I didn’t realize how much I’d love being in the gym with both guys. Distractions always felt like poison to progress, but I’m willfully chugging this poison.
Being around a shirtless beefcake and a shirtless dreamboat is the pinnacle of eye candy. Akara’s washboard abs and Banks’ six-pack glisten with sweat.
Akara is quick to say, “Lest you forget, Lady Meadows, I can still lift twenty-pounds heavier than you.”
While I grab my phone, I motion to the plates. “Put twenty more on. Let’s go.”
“No quit in her,” Banks says, curling his heavy hand weights.
Akara smiles. “That’s how I like her best.”
“I thought you liked me best naked and against you?” I say, hearing the smokiness in my own voice. My lips rise as Akara gives me a clear onceover.
Banks drinks me in too, and I’m finding greater footing in the realm of flirting. As I straddle the weight bench, I open my legs wider for Banks. He looks at my pussy.
Today is one of the few mornings where cramps aren’t annihilating me. We’re all sweaty, pheromones swirling in a primal state of existence, and I hope they both rush forward and just take me like I’m too fucking hot to ignore.
Just as Banks sets down his hand weights and Akara moves closer, their cellphones go off with a knock knock sound.
I go eerily still.
Every SFO bodyguard rigged their phones to notify any Royal Leak updates. Knock knock is the tune they all chose. My phone already in hand, I quickly open and refresh the website.
THE ROYAL LEAKS
We reveal all the truths about the American Royals. These are verified and come directly from the source.
ROYAL LEAK #1: Close family members call Maximoff, Farrow, Jane, and Thatcher “The Seasons” collectively.
#TodaysLeaks #WeStanTheSeasons #SummerWinterSpringFall #winteriscoming
“Fuck no,” I gape at my phone, realizing the awesome name that Luna and I came up with for our cousins is going to be desecrated by media and trolls.
I almost chuck my phone.
29
BANKS MORETTI
Eating chow at Warwick with Akara and Sulli, I found a new love. College dining halls. All you can eat lunches? Pizza oven, hoagie station, a fucking sushi bar—sign me up for the meal plan. (Akara already did.)
With a mountain of food on my plate, students give me side-eyes like I’m eating for twelve.
I’m a big guy, leave me the fuck alone. At least I’m not my brother, shoving lunchmeat in my pockets. Although, almost a year ago now, security thought I was the lunchmeat-pocket-eater.
Still makes me smile.
As Akara steals and eats the cherry tomatoes out of Sulli’s salad for her, I scarf down a burger.
Knock knock.
I glare at my phone, then the ceiling. Couldn’t wait until I finished my food? Wiping my mouth and hands with a napkin, I pull out my phone.
Akara and Sulli do the same.
THE ROYAL LEAKS
We reveal all the truths about the American Royals. These are verified and come directly from the source.
ROYAL LEAK #1: Luna Hale, Jane Cobalt, & Maximoff Hale made pot brownies.
#TodaysLeaks #holypot #CanWeSayScandal?
Sulli chokes on a lettuce leaf.
Akara pats her back, and she spits out the lettuce.
“Drink this.” I pass our girlfriend a water.
Once she clears her throat, she takes a gulp, then shakes her head, “When did they make pot brownies? They had to have made them, right?”
“Yeah.” Akara tenses. “These have all been real.”
“Maximoff Hale made pot brownies?” I say with disbelief. “Seems far-fetched to me.” He’s sober concerning alcohol and stays away from weed. Except that one time I heard he accidentally ate an edible.
“It didn’t say he ate them,” Akara points out.
Gotta stop the leaks.
Security meetings are now daily and sometimes taken via FaceTime. We’re all waiting for the mole to slip-up. Post something that might greater identify who they are. We’ve been dissecting the leaks to figure out the origin.
Everything is still pointing to the penthouse.
Akara and I hawk-eye the dining hall. Students start eyeballing Sulli more and more, phones in their possessions. Leaning into their friends, cupping hands to ears, they whisper.
“That’s not good,” Akara breathes. Slowly but surely The Royal Leaks gossip site is gaining traction, especially at Warwick where Sulli’s existence on campus is well-known. Students love snapping photos and video-recording her from afar. Like an A-list celebrity spotting.
At the moment, a girl with glasses not so furtively records Sullivan looking downtrodden. Sulli’s bummed expression is one I’ve seen before.
She has FOMO.
Fear of missing out. Or Sulli’s version: Fear of Missing Every Fucking Thing.
“Sulli?” Akara nudges her side, noticing too. “They could’ve made the brownies while you were at work.”
“Or while I was hiding out in my room.” She sighs, “I just hate that it’s so awkward between me and them that they wouldn’t even invite me to make pot brownies.”