Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Let’s get going,” he says, placing a hundred dollar bill over the check. “We have something to show you.”
Without having to be asked twice, I jump out of the booth and hustle out the door. Try as I may, I can’t resist taking one last backward glance at Dallas.
I swear that for a fleeting moment I see something that could be construed as regret on his face. Then again, it’s probably just my imagination––or wishful thinking.
Chapter Six
Dallas
Eff-It List 2020
1. get a make-over √
2. learn to surf
3. get drunk
4. get a tattoo (a small one)
5. ride a Ferris wheel (or a hot air balloon)
6. meet my birth mother
7. date more
8. get a boyfriend
9. lose my V card
10.
Is this chick for real?
I don’t know what’s more troubling––that she’s still a virgin, or that she wants to lose her virginity but can’t even spell the word fuck in the privacy of her personal notes.
Closing out the Notes app, I stuff said phone in my backpack and follow Rea to the garage where my pride and joy, my yellow Porsche 911, sits parked next to his Jeep. Whoever tells you being rich isn’t all it’s cracked up to be has never been rich.
“I’m driving,” I tell Rea.
“Hmm,” he returns distractedly. Which is weird because he usually fights me on it, arguing that my Porsche is too low and cramped.
“Dude––you okay?”
Glancing up, he blinks out of a fog and says, “No.” Then he stops short at my car and frowns as if he finally realizes what he agreed to. “Let me drive. I need to put my hands to use or I’ll start sending more desperate texts.”
I feel for him, I do. I know what it’s like to be tied up in knots over a girl and it’s not pleasant. Love is a dangerous drug. One minute you’re sixty feet off the ground, riding high on endorphins. The next, it’ll drop you like a Tinder hookup, and run you over for good measure. A lesson I learned a long time ago and never forgot.
We hop into his Jeep, and he tears down the road toward the Slow Drip, a local Malibu coffee shop.
“No use fighting it. It’s pretty simple. Beg for mercy, say yes to anything she says, and all will be well again.”
He shoots me a doubtful, scrutinizing glance. Rea’s never been in love before and I don’t want to spoil it for him. Every guy should know what it feels like at least once in his life. Especially since the guy doesn’t even realize he’s already in deep.
He will soon enough, though. Chicks like Bailey demand your heart and expect nothing less. She’s a good egg, that one. The problem is, girls like Bailey will cut your heart out and take it with them when they leave. Which is why I steer clear of girls like her. Give me the Speedo chasers, the gold diggers, the ones in it for the bragging rights. Those are my type. Everybody gets what they want and everyone walks away happy. Well…most of the time.
“What if I ruin it?” he says pulling into a parking space in the Malibu Mart. Turning the engine off, he looks over at me with an expression more dejected than I’ve ever seen on him.
“What if you don’t?” I flip up my sunglasses and give him my undivided attention. “On this episode of Who Stole My Balls? we explore––”
“Quit the shit.”
“Look, it might not work-out, but I can guarantee you’ll regret it if you don’t try. I like Bailey. She’s real, for one thing. And she doesn’t think you make the sun rise in the west, which makes her worth the risk.”
As we pass the glass-paned storefront, I catch sight of the woman in question. She’s sitting at a table against the glass with her friends. Among them is Kitten, and a smile grown on my face. This should be fun.
“Sac-up,” I tell him.
Shaking his head, he pushes the door open. The place is packed. Reagan heads for Bailey like a man on a mission while I make for the register and use the time to scope out my prey.
9. lose my V-card…
It keeps flashing in my head like some subliminal alpha bat call. She looks different. I noticed that earlier this morning when I saw her at the restaurant with her dads who I also recognized from the pictures on her phone. Crazy that I know more about this girl than all of the girls I’ve dated in the last four years combined.
For one thing, the baggy clothes are gone. She’s wearing a fitted white t-shirt and jeans. Her long red hair is in a ponytail, and she has gloss on her lips…right. Those lips…I know exactly what they feel like against mine. What they taste like. Those lips have earned my attention.