Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“We are three friends talking about—” Estefania starts but gets cut off by Sheridan.
“Idiot pilots.”
“Someone say my name?” Carson asks, pulling up a chair and sitting next to me.
I take a swig of the Corralejo straight from the bottle and pass it to him. “We’re outnumbered and not wanted here.”
Carson snorts. “Nonsense. Everyone loves a pilot.”
“They are handsome,” Estefania tries, making Kyle laugh softly.
“I’m more of a seaman lover myself,” Sheridan says, lifting her chin primly.
Carson chokes on his tequila and Kyle’s face blushes. Estefania’s eyes widen.
I grin at Sheridan and lean in. “Seaman? You’re a seaman lover?”
The ice that seems permanently formed around Sheridan’s being suddenly cracks. I notice the exact moment she realizes her error.
“Oh my…” she trails off, her neck blazing crimson. “I meant…well, I meant exactly what I said, but you children can’t behave!”
“We are behaving,” I argue with a laugh. “You’re the one telling us how much you love seamen.”
“I mean a man with a boat, you idiot,” she hisses, but her brown eyes are alight with amusement.
“I’m a man with many boats who also loves semen,” Damian crows as he prances up to us and plops down in my lap. He waggles his sculpted brows at me. “Oh, honey, is that an anchor in your pocket or are you happy to see—”
I playfully push him out of my lap. “Apparently, our abejita here loves seamen, not semen.”
“You’re a lesbian?” Damian asks, his face totally serious. “That explains a lot.”
“Wait,” Carson interjects. “Explains what? How does that explain anything?”
“I’m not a lesbian,” Sheridan grumbles.
Carson scratches his head. “I’m still wondering what makes you think Sherrie is into chicks. I mean, I know I didn’t misread the way she checks out my boy—”
“I most certainly do not check out your boy,” Sheridan huffs. “And it’s Sheridan, not Sherrie.”
“Sherrie-dan was not looking at the handsome pilot’s glorious abs,” Estefania chimes in, coming to her rescue, miffed on her behalf.
“Glorious abs, huh?” I ask, flashing Sheridan a crooked smile.
She rolls her eyes and sips her tequila. “Nothing I haven’t seen before and certainly nothing special. And I’ve seen a lot of abs because I like boys and not girls.”
“Girl, same,” Damian cheers out, holding his hand out for a high-five. “Even if you are a female Autobot—”
“What’s an Autobot?” Lawton asks, joining the growing fray of crazies.
“Metal robot. Basically a good guy, but kind of scary and hella tough,” Damian explains. “You ever seen Transformers?”
When Lawton says he hasn’t seen Transformers, Damian squeals and launches into a detailed explanation of his “favorite movies ever.” Kyle tattles and whispers that his favorite movie ever is Moulin Rouge, but no one calls Damian out. I’m chuckling as they drag another table over.
“I’m a good guy?” Sheridan mutters, her brows knitting together in confusion.
My smile is wiped from my face as I stare at her. For one brief second, her wall is down. She’s not sad or pissed. She’s lost. In unfamiliar territory. Desperately needing a lifeline.
I poke the proverbial bear to remind her she has claws.
The girl needs to be fierce in order to survive the world she’s created for herself.
“A good guy with good lips.” I smirk at her as I rake my gaze down her front. “And good tit—”
She tosses her drink at me. As soon as the tequila hits my eyes, I howl. Fuck. It burns. Holy shit. I totally deserved that, but still.
“Oh my God,” Sheridan cries out. “I forgot this wasn’t Sprite.”
My eyes are watering, and I can’t see, so I rub at them. Delicate hands grip my wrists. Everyone is laughing or talking over each other. It’s chaos and I can’t even see.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Sheridan hisses, pulling me up and out of my chair. “Come on.”
Blindly, I follow my abuser to my death. Or the bathroom at Eddie’s, which may as well be death with how stifling hot and cramped it is inside. Like a hot coffin in hell.
“Lean over so we can rinse your eyes out,” she sasses.
“I can’t believe you blinded me, woman.”
“That’ll teach you to gape at my boobs.”
“They’re nice boob—”
She grabs a handful of my hair and pushes me toward the sink. “Hush.”
“You’re a mean little thing. I changed my mind,” I mutter. “Not a good guy. You’re the villain, abejita.”
“Villains always have cool cars,” she tosses back, splashing the lukewarm water in my face.
“What kind of car does my villain have?”
“I’m not your villain.”
“This is my story. You’re in it. You’re mine.”
She huffs, but it lacks her usual fire. “I have a pearl-white Jaguar F-Type.”
“Does it go fast?”
“Really fast.”
“Do you like to go fast?” I peek at her now that my eyes aren’t burning so much.
“I like to get there in one piece.”
I turn off the sink and rise to my full height. I love how she has to crane her neck up to see me. In the small space, she doesn’t have much room to escape. “You ever just enjoy the ride? Roll down the windows and let the wind mess up your hair a little?”