Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
The house sits on twelve acres tucked back behind a tree line. It’s dark gray with black shutters, white columns, and a wraparound porch. It’s two stories and has a section referred to as the guest wing. I don’t think anyone ever uses it. Mrs. Williams keeps the property fully staffed at all times.
“In The End” by Black Veil Brides blares from the speakers when we enter the house. I instantly feel eyes on me. It’s the sex tape. Friday night at my house, I went straight to my room after I set Colt’s car on fire and then Nate showed up, so I never had to face anyone. Now I’m not only a slut but also crazy because of the stunt I pulled with his car.
Tatum gets my attention, sliding her arm in the crook of mine and raises her chin, noticing the way conversations die down around us. “They just wish their friend was as cool as mine,” she states, giving me a big smile.
I laugh. “Come on. Let’s get our drink on. Something tells me we’re both going to need it.”
We enter the kitchen, and I see Mitch standing at the large bar, mixing drinks. “Hey, ladies,” he calls out, seeing us.
Mitch Williams has always been a cool guy. Nothing like his brother.
He comes around the bar and gives us both a hug. “What’s been going on? What can I get you two to drink?”
“Dude, don’t act like you haven’t watched her sex tape.” A guy I’ve never seen before throws his arm over Mitch’s shoulders and winks at me. “Maybe the three of us can make one tonight.”
“Shut up, Joe.” Mitch shoves him away and grabs a couple of shot glasses. “Show some respect.”
Joe snorts. “You don’t respect whores.”
I flinch at his words but try to look unaffected by tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear.
“Ignore him.” Mitch gives us a smirk, pouring some vodka into the glasses. “Drink up, ladies.” He places them in front of us.
We both down them without question. Hissing in a breath, Tatum twirls her finger around in the air. “Keep ’em coming.”
“Uh-oh.” He pours two more. “Anything I can help with?” he asks, setting them in front of us as well.
“Nope.” She throws hers back, and I swallow mine.
“The night has just begun, ladies.” He grabs a couple of red Solo cups to make us actual drinks, and then hands me one of the cups. “Still drink Malibu and pineapple?” he asks.
Smiling, I take it from him. “I do. Thank you.” I used to spend lots of time at this house partying. Taking a sip, I put the cup down and ask, “Where’s your brother?” Might as well get this over with. He’ll have something to say about the video. And I’m sure it’ll piss me off. I’d prefer to throw my drink on him now rather than later.
He starts laughing while pouring Tatum’s drink. “In jail.”
“What?” Tatum gasps.
I chuckle, taking another sip. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Yeah, he got picked up yesterday. Since Mom and Dad are out of town for a few days, I’m pretending that I don’t know he’s locked up. I’ll get him out tomorrow morning,” he adds. “That way I know he can’t crash my party.”
“Thank God,” I mumble around my cup.
Mike and Mitch are very different people. They look identical—pretty, dark blue eyes, light brown hair that they both keep short on the sides and longer on top. But they dress different. Mitch has always been more preppy and makes sure he’s ready for anything. Whereas Mike would show up to school like he just rolled out of bed. They’re the exact opposite of one another. Mitch got straight A’s, while Mike barely graduated high school. I never really cared for Mike. I only went to his party that night five years ago because Colt told me I couldn’t. I snuck out of the house. I still don’t know how he found out I came here and what Mike and I did. I just wanted to fit in. It was hard being Colt’s stepsister who everyone ignored. Mike actually gave me the time of day that night, so when he led me up to his room, I didn’t think twice about it.
“Can you make mine a double?” Tatum asks, watching him mix her drink.
“That rough, huh?” he asks.
“Raylee? Tatum?” I hear a familiar female voice from behind us. We both spin around to see Raven entering the kitchen underneath a man’s arm.
As usual, she looks gorgeous. She’s a petite thing. Can’t be more than five-two without her heels on. She has her dyed-black hair pulled up and away from her face in a high ponytail. She wears a white dress that shows off her massive boobs, and black heels. Her parents got divorced our senior year in high school. Her mother wanted to get fake boobs to celebrate the settlement. She won but didn’t want to get them done alone, so she bought Raven a pair too.