Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
No one answers.
“Hello.” Tiffany rudely waves her hand in the air between the front seat and back seat, palm hovering above the center console. “Are you spending the night at the house tonight?”
I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. Why does she give a crap where Ryann is spending the night? Why is she even asking? The neighbors have never spent the night at our place. Why does she care if Ryann is?
Ryann’s head shakes as if she was lost in thought. “I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”
“Yes.” Tiffany rolls her eyes.
“Oh. Um.” She pushes some hair behind her ear. “Not sure yet.” Shrugs. “I like my sleep, know what I mean?” Laughs. “This one here snores like a freight train and gets nighttime sweats, so…”
Snores? Nighttime sweats? What the fuck! “I do not snore.”
I don’t.
“How do you know?” The imp is grinning, daring me to tell the entire group of them she couldn’t possibly know whether I snore or not because she’s never slept with me.
“Because I would know.”
“Didn’t you tell me once that you almost had to wear one of those masks because of your apnea or whatever it’s called?”
“Ew.” Tiffany wrinkles her nose. “You have to wear a mask to bed? That’s so weird.”
“Yeah,” Ryann goes on, “so like, sometimes I like to just sleep in my own bed so I can sleep. Otherwise it’s like sleeping next to Darth Vader, and I’m not really into Star Wars.”
My jaw drops.
For once, I’m left speechless.
“You should totally spend the night tonight,” they say at the same time.
“Why?” Ryann cocks her head to the side and laughs.
Tiffany’s mouth guppies—as if she weren’t expecting Ryann to challenge her on something so simple. As if she were expecting her to agree because she was being put on the spot.
“Because…we’re going to spend the night, and it’ll be fun.”
Come again? Since when do these two spend the night at our house? This is either a new development or a power struggle to show Ryann who has the upper hand and the most access to the three Colter brothers.
“Fun?” Ryann isn’t taking the bait. “Fun for whom?”
Tiffany, for all her confidence, pouts in the back seat. “Like, I thought you were dating. There are a thousand girls at this school who wouldn’t hesitate to spend the night and here you are, going home to sleep because he snores?”
I cannot believe she has the balls to say shit like that to Ryann’s face—and in front of mine, no less.
The nerve of these chicks.
I’m going to have a talk with my brother about getting them gone—like, gone, gone. That’s for damn sure.
Nothing I can do about it now, though.
sixteen
ryann
“A blow job is better than no job.”
– Winnie
I can’t believe I was peer-pressured by Drake Colter and his two minions to spend the night, all for the sake of pretense.
Peer pressure isn’t even a thing in my book.
My parents raised me to believe it comes from within and I shouldn’t let anyone make me feel pressured to do anything, yet here I am in the front seat of a truck, heading for a slumber party and a night of pretending.
Dallas owes me for this…
This goes above and beyond the call of duty.
Drake Colter knows damn well I’m not actually dating his brother for real—he knows I’m Diego Lorenz’s ex-girlfriend, too. There’s no doubt in my mind about it.
That shady brat cornered us on purpose.
The entire truck ride he kept commenting on how funny it’s going to be bumping into me in the bathroom in the middle of the night, telling us he’d make us waffles and mimosas for breakfast.
“We don’t have a waffle maker,” Dallas pointed out.
“Pancakes, then.”
“Oh, I love pancakes,” Tiffany said, putting her hand on his leg. She was the one who had her hand on one brother but her eye on another.
Dallas.
The grand prize for them all, and I could see she was only going to settle for so long before making her move.
And Lord help me, I have no reason to be jealous—no reason at all—but I found myself saying, “Yeah, I could do pancakes for breakfast,” much to my surprise and Dallas’s. He gave me a side glance complete with brows shot into his hairline and an open mouth.
When we were finally alone in his bedroom, he closed the door and said, “You don’t have to do this. Don’t matter to me if you stay or not. I don’t give a fuck what those three think.”
“But what about my pancakes?” No one ever makes me breakfast unless I go to the diner.
Dallas actually laughed. “Fine. Spend the night.” He gave me a once-over, not looking directly at my boobs. “I might have a shirt that would fit you.”
“I guess I could wear clothes to bed.” I peeled off my jacket, hanging it on the back of his chair.