Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Yeah, I’m never good enough.
One thing is for sure—I’ll be moving to an apartment after this year. Unfortunately, I have to stay on campus my freshman year, which is why I’m in this predicament.
Because any other day, no one would catch me at a Bullies’ house party with these three.
Or at a party, really.
Especially a college hockey team party.
I’m not really the party type, and since I have been around hockey guys my whole life, this isn’t my scene. With my dad’s career as a professional NHL player, and then when he moved to broadcasting, I’ve been able to go to a bunch of camps full of hockey guys and I know them better than anyone. While I know there are good guys in the sport, I have met nothing but shitty ones. Yet just like every other naïve girl out there, I keep chasing those red flags. It’s hard when I want what my parents have, a loving, supportive marriage, but I only meet guys whose brains are in their dicks.
I want someone to share my life with. But I’m only eighteen; shouldn’t I be having fun?
But sucking Dawson’s Sinclair’s cock doesn’t sound fun to me.
I mean, it does, and I bet he’s hung, but I refuse to be like the masses.
The fact that everyone is obsessed with him is a turn-off, especially when I know he wouldn’t give me a second glance or even remember me after.
“A rite of passage would be getting drunk and playing hockey in the guys’ gear. Sucking a guy off is not the same thing,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“You’re really judgy,” Grace M. says, her words a bit slurred. “You never want to hook up with anyone. I’d think you’re gay, but you wouldn’t even fuck us.”
Oh, you read that right. They hook up with one another.
It’s okay, though. They’re drunk when it happens, so they’re not really bi.
I feel like I get dumber just breathing the same air as them.
I cover my mouth to hold in my laugh. “Yeah, sorry. I have better things to do than worry about sex. I have—”
“Goals,” they say together, rolling their eyes.
It’s Grace P. who says, “Your goals are ruining your life.”
I make a face. “Or making them better,” I say, not one to hold back. My dad says I have a bit of a mouth on me. That I never really think before I speak.
He’s not wrong.
“What else is new— OMG, there he is!” Grace G. says, and they all puff up like peacocks. Tits out and duck lips in full force. I fully expect them to start doing mating dances at the drop of a puck. I roll my eyes, not sparing Dawson Sinclair a look before I point at nothing.
“I’m going to go get some air.”
I don’t miss what they say under their breath.
He wouldn’t let her suck him off anyway. She’s not his type.
She’s such a loser.
Only a couple months and then we’ll be rid of her boring ass.
I can’t help but laugh.
What they don’t know is I’m way meaner to myself than they could ever be.
I walk through the Bullies’ house to the kitchen, where a huge tub of Bullies Backyard Punch is out in the open. Now, I wouldn’t get any if there weren’t a sober guy in charge of watching the punch to make sure no one drops drugs into it. As much as I hate parties, the Bullies are very much about the safety of their guests. Especially women.
“No drugs?” I ask, and Wilson Masters flashes me a grin.
“Nope,” he says, popping the P. “But I know where to get some.”
I wink before taking the ladle and pouring some punch into my cup. “I’m good. Have a great night.” His eyes move across my body, and I roll my eyes. “Not gonna happen.”
“You gotta give me another chance,” he practically begs, and I shake my head.
“You couldn’t find my clit, Willy, then came in your pants when you did.”
He grins sheepishly. “I’ve learned things.”
Okay, yes, I hooked up with him. I was sixteen, and he was my first kiss. I know I shouldn’t hold it against him, but if I’m going to take off my pants, I want to be guaranteed an orgasm.
Willy doesn’t give off guaranteed-orgasm energy.
“I’m good,” I say with a wave and a wide grin. “See you around.”
“I’m gonna convince you,” he calls out, and I shake my head.
“Not after you told everyone I sucked your dick, when I didn’t,” I say before flicking him the bird.
“I was a stupid guy.”
“Don’t you mean, am?” I call back with a wink.
His laughter follows me out of the kitchen. I move through the house, taking in the crowd of my peers who are dancing and rubbing against each other in the primal dance of youth. It’s foggy in here from all the vapes and weed, almost choking me out. Add in the mixture of sweaty bodies, sex, and all kinds of beer, and I want to gag.