Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“Check this out.” I eased my thumb onto the top of the little joystick and guided the truck up a sandbank with a smoother turn. Then I sped up right before the edge and flew off it. A ball of fire erupted from the tank. “Yeehaw, motherfucker.” …And I completely failed to do a flip. Fuck. Next time. I grinned.
“Yeehaw!” Teddy echoed. “Can we do this all day?”
I let out a laugh. “It might get too cold for that. But I’ll tell you what—next time you have a sleepover at my place, we’ll see what fun we can come up with. Sometimes, you just wanna watch shit blow up. Am I right?”
“You are right,” he laughed. “Blow shit up, blow shit up!”
And the crowd went wild.
I’m not tired, I’m not tired, I’m not tired.
After an intense birthday celebration that morning, everyone had gone their separate ways. Soph, Dylan, Teddy, and Bella were heading over to Dylan’s parents’, and I crashed with my boys as soon as I got into the RV. They snuggled up beside me, and we slept for hours.
It should’ve been enough. I’d showered, put on my nice jeans, a button-down, and my best cologne, and I’d talked myself into a good mood for an evening in a bowling alley. Then I’d met up with everyone again, and I’d greeted the evident disco theme with a yawn.
Now I couldn’t stop.
I blamed the darkness in here. The lanes were lit up with UV lights, and the place was packed with Halloween decorations. Hell, there was even a giant disco ball in the ceiling, casting moving flickers all over. And the music… Pop music blared from the speakers. Kids were hopped up on sugar from trick-or-treating, and parents were nursing their exhaustion with beer.
I finished last in our first game. Soph finished first, followed by Sebastian.
Dylan and Teddy were looking forward to their revenge.
I was looking forward to going home to get more sleep.
While the others took a break to finish their orders of wings and grilled cheese, I volunteered to get us more drinks and snacks. I needed to be on my feet. If I spent another minute sitting down, I’d fall asleep. Despite the hideous disco music.
The bar was actually calmer than the lanes. Considering what day it was, the place wasn’t crowded; the kids who were here just happened to be fucking loud. Combined with the music and the incessant sound of pins hitting the floor, I was just waiting for the headache to set in.
“Hey…can I get, uh—” I squinted at the menu behind the bar. “One order of fried pickles, one buffalo wings, and two orders of fries, please. Oh, and two beers and three Cokes.”
“We can bring the snacks to your lane,” the bartender offered.
“Much appreciated, but I don’t mind waitin’.” In fact, I insisted.
I slid onto the nearest stool and nodded in thanks as he set two beers on a tray.
As I took a sip of my beer, I nearly jumped in my seat when Sebastian appeared next to me.
“Soph wants a churro too,” he said.
Because who didn’t go to a bowling alley in northern Washington for the best churros?
“Dip a French fry in sugar,” I replied. “She won’t know the difference.”
He let out a laugh, and he couldn’t fucking know how fantastic that sounded. It was pathetic, but the next breath came easier.
Something had happened over the day. He’d gone from being mostly quiet during our morning festivities to taking the wheel tonight. He and Soph had enjoyed the game.
Once Sebastian had gotten his churro order in, he settled onto the stool next to mine and stole my beer to take a swig.
This was new.
Shouldn’t he run back to the others now?
“I have a bone to pick with you,” he said.
This was less new.
“You have more than one, darlin’.”
He tipped his head in a silent touché. “Either way, I—” He threw an irritated glance at the ceiling, then leaned closer to me. “Follow me. I can’t hear my own thoughts in here.”
Bullshit. It wasn’t that loud in the bar.
Was he gonna murder me now? He knew a lot of hiding spots in the woods.
I took another gulp of beer and watched him walk away. Toward the bathrooms. Fuck. Yeah, I followed. How could I not? What were we gonna fight about this time? And would it lead to sex? Only the last question was important.
He led the way to a narrow hallway and ducked into what turned out to be an empty coat-check room.
“Please tell me you brought lube instead of a rubber this time,” I half joked.
He flicked on the light and left the door open. Bummer.
“You’re a real comedian, Blake,” he deadpanned. “We’re not screwing again.”
“All right.” I admit, I was disappointed. It seemed like the perfect location for a repeat of last time.