Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
“Hey, man,” I schmooze, handing over my fake ID to Mr. Muscles, followed by Julia’s as she passes it to me. “How you doing tonight?” Recognition hits me from another occasion like a bolt of lightning, and I use it. My mind is always networking and cataloging people I meet for the future, and the older I get, the more and more valuable the skill seems to be. “Your name’s Bruno, right? I think I’ve seen you with my buddy Knox.”
Bruno shrugs and holds his flashlight to my ID first before handing it back and moving on to Jules’s. He glances at Julia and me, entranced by our good looks, I assume, and then to Scottie’s wheelchair behind us.
I keep talking.
“I know it’s busy. Friday nights are crazy base case, but I can’t imagine what it’ll be like in August when all the college kids move back in to town, you know?”
His ice cracks slightly. “Yeah, this is nothing. Line will triple by September.”
“Triple?” I scoff, really leaning into his plight to earn some brownie points. “You’re fucking kidding.”
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Even come December, they’ll all be out here, freezing nipples off for a chance to get inside.”
“Standard turnover, though, right? People out before people in, and if it gets late enough and a good DJ is on, no one is leaving.”
He nods his big head. “Exactly.”
“Shit,” I say with a laugh, patting him on the shoulder as the corner of his mouth turns up. “I’ll remember you. Maybe even bring you some HotHands or something if I’m in the neighborhood.”
He chuckles, and I shake his hand, leaving behind the hundred-dollar bill folded there. Without acknowledging it, I turn back to Scottie and Finn and Blake and wave them forward and through the door, and Mr. Muscles claps me on the shoulder, not even bothering to check their IDs. “Enjoy yourselves,” he says as we all head inside.
“Thanks, Bruno.”
I follow the group in, but Julia hangs back, excitedly bouncing high enough to put an arm around my shoulder. This is our first official time sneaking in anywhere with fake IDs, which is actually remarkable, given we’re so close to of age now. I mean, I’m nineteen and she’s eighteen, but Julia is clearly jazzed over our fake-ID rebellion.
“I can’t believe it worked!” she squeals and squeezes my shoulder. “I’m so excited!”
I smile. “Come on, Jules, you know I’m unstoppable when I’m on a mission.”
She laughs, and the vibration makes her shimmery gold dress shine even more under the lights of Groove. “I’ll give it to you tonight, Acer. You pulled it off, and I love you for it.” She smacks a kiss on my cheek, and I lift her into my arms to spin her around before setting her back down on her heels.
Finn gives our name to the VIP host, who walks us to our table in the back center of the club, and lights strobe across Julia’s face as she shimmies her way across the dance floor in front of me, the tan of her thighs’ exposure inching higher and higher as she raises her hands above her head.
Several idiots glance in her direction, and I don’t hesitate to move a little closer to her as a douche deterrent. I don’t know everything, but I know with certainty that there’s not a single fuck in this club who is worthy of my best friend.
Jules is magnetic—she always has been—and seeing her having a good time is half the reason I’m as unhinged as I am. As her best friend for her entire life, I see it as my duty to make her days better. She’s always returned the favor effortlessly and is the only person who truly makes space for me to be myself. That doesn’t stop me with other people—I create space on my own—but it’s nice to be understood.
Scottie looks back over her shoulder at Finn as he wheels her through the crowd on the dance floor, barking at anyone who dares to take half a second too long getting out of the way or flat-out running over their feet if necessary. She’s pink with embarrassment, a perfect match to her magenta shirt, but somehow accepting and grateful at the same time, both of which show in the twinkle of her eye.
Blake walks behind them, high-fiving a couple of randoms who recognize Dickson University’s Golden Quarterback and tilting his eyes to the floor to avoid calling any more attention to himself than necessary. I don’t know why he doesn’t soak that shit in more—I sure as fuck would—but I guess his humble nature is part of why we all love him so much.
“I’ll go get drinks,” I offer, settling Julia into the VIP booth in front of me with a hand at her upper arm to help her get her purse off her shoulder.