Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
She’s spot on about the horrible reality shows. I found some from a decade ago that have zero in the way of plot, and the cast is comprised of the most frustrating humans on the face of the earth. For a show that stresses the importance of strategy, there seems to be none. Unless being an annoying jerk counts.
I drag my eyes up to her face. “I still don’t know how to feel, and I’m still sad.”
“Of course you are. You’re watching the world’s biggest assholes vie for a quarter of a million dollars. That would make anyone sad.” She drops to the cushion beside me. “And you’re allowed to be conflicted.”
In a rare, shocking post-game interview, Hollis publicly declared he’s in love with me. Well, he said he’s in love with Roman Hammerstein’s daughter and tacked my name on at the end. I’ve watched the clip an unreasonable number of times. Dissected it. Tried to read between the lines. As nice as it is to hear I’m not alone with my feelings, that he referred to me as Roman’s daughter first leaves me with a lot of questions. Like how can it ever work between us if my dad is the third party in our relationship all the time? Also, it’s one thing for Hollis to tell the world how he feels, but what is he going to do about it? I don’t know if this will impact my potential job with the Terror, but I can’t worry about that today.
“I miss Hollis.” I look up to the ceiling to fend off my tears. He messaged the other night, but I haven’t responded. I’m over here working on my relationship with my dad and standing up for myself. I can’t do his part as well. I need Hollis to make an actual move. I want him to say those words to my face and tell me how he plans to prove he means it.
“I know.” Rix wraps her arm around me. “Which is why we need to dress you up like a thirst trap and go shake our asses on the dance floor. And we should also do shots like they’re not the worst idea we’ve ever had.”
“Shots are always a bad idea. And yet I always say yes to them.”
“Truth. I’ll text Hemi, Dred, and Shilps.”
“What about Tally? I feel bad that she gets left out of bar nights.”
“She’s on a senior-year high school trip, and we’ll have a girls’ night when she gets back. I’m sure she’ll have all kinds of drama to fill us in on, because teenagers.”
Rix sends the text message, which quickly turns into a buzzfest. Shilpa and Ash are on a date, so they’ll meet us there, but Dred and Hemi come over. I love that Dred has become part of our core group when we’re hanging at our apartments or the Watering Hole.
Rix pulls me off the couch and drags me to my closet. Then she decides we need to up my outfit game, so we raid her closet instead. “This skirt.” She tosses a skintight pleather number at me.
“Will barely cover my ass.” I have several inches on Rix, so this already-short skirt will be something else.
“If you’re opposed to showing that much skin, how about this as an alternative?” She tosses a pair of black leather-looking leggings at me. “They’re the magic-butt pants.”
“How come I’ve never seen you wear these?” I ask.
“Because if Tristan sees me in them, I don’t make it out the door.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” I rub my chest at the sudden sharp stab. “Less than a week ago, I would have put on magic-butt pants for Hollis.” I try to make my breathing even, so the tears won’t fall.
“The hurt hits hard, doesn’t it?”
“So hard. But it’s more than that. I miss how steady I felt when I was with him. How clear the future started to look when we were trying to make this work, and now, I just don’t know.”
She nods. “We don’t have to go out tonight if you’re not up to it. We can eat ice cream instead. All the ice cream.”
I shake my head. “If I keep it up, I’ll need to buy stock in Kawartha. I need to get out of my head.” And my aching heart needs a rest, too.
“Okay.” She passes me the magic-butt pants and rummages through her closet for a shirt. “Pair it with this.” She tosses a cowl neck, backless, rhinestone tank at me.
Fifteen minutes later I’m dressed—if we can call it that—and we’re on a video call with Essie, who functions as our live makeup tutorial guide.
“How have you been my best friend since nursery school and never mastered cat eyes?” Essie asks.
“Because you were always here to do them for me,” Rix says.
“I really need that portal between Vancouver and Toronto,” Essie sighs.