Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Rook lifted his drink. “Double it and I’ll bet you both her mom was the one behind the camera.”
“Goddamn,” Cade muttered, but nodded.
Nick raised his brows. “Yeah, alright. Fuck it, I’m in.”
They all shook on it like it was fantasy football and not a fucked-up real-life porno. I took another bite of my sandwich, chewing slower, my appetite was fleeing.
The video cuts to another.
Same girl. Different guy.
The locker room came into view, the Crowsfell logo stamped clearly on the wall behind them. This next guy was shirtless, his pants down around his ankles. She was in his lap, cheer skirt hiked, and riding him with abandon, with no condom in sight.
“Isn’t that Sydney Tran’s boyfriend?” Cade asked with a disbelieving laugh.
“Sure is,” Nick confirmed. “Shooting guard. He’s got Syd plastered all over his bio and social media.”
Layla clearly didn’t give a fuck.
“Syd thinks she and Layla are friends,” Rook stated.
Xander’s voice came through the speaker. “He’s a fool. Syn is cute and has a good head on her shoulders.”
Another cut, and there she was again with a different guy.
“These are all from the same week,” I pointed out, checking the timestamp.
“Damn, her PH is all outta order,” Nick remarked.
This one was theatrical as hell. Overacting. Groaning like it was an actual show for an audience. Layla had her hair in a ponytail and was attempting to talk dirty, coming across like she was reading off a teleprompter.
“I had to speed through this one,” Xander confessed.
Nick frowned. “I feel like I’m watching a casting call for a parody.”
Cade laughed. “I saw a skit where the delivery guy got tipped with pussy. That had more soul than this.”
I raised a brow. “A skit, huh?”
We all laughed, the sound tapering off fast when the next clip started.
Sarah’s car came into the lens this time.
The back windows were fogged, but the cameraman still managed to get a view inside. Layla was on top again, her cheer skirt hiked up around her waist, knees planted on either side of Sarah’s hips. Not the first time we’d seen that particular angle. She could at least mix it up a bit.
“This girl doesn’t give it a break?” Nick sat back and adjusted his ball cap. “That’s two days apart.”
Xander, ever the Devil’s Advisor. “Let’s not act brand new. Most of us have had sex more than once in a week. Days apart. Sometimes hours.”
Rook scowled. “Not a whole procession. She’s building a totem pole.”
Nick nodded. “I mean, I’m a self-proclaimed freak, and even I’m not running through multiples in the same week. That’s wild.”
“I’m a one-woman man,” Cade added, deadpan.
I laughed as Nick sucked his teeth and fixed him with a look. “Don’t even start with that bullshit. You had a girl and her best friend back-to-back a few months ago.”
“Still one at a time.”
We watched Sarah put her mouth on Layla’s neck, her hand sliding up the inside of her thigh like they’d done it a hundred times before. I wasn’t all that surprised by this. I knew Sarah went either way, and I was convinced Layla would fuck anything that moved.
“Right corner,” Rook pointed out.
We all looked.
Barely visible, in the curve of the side panel, was a reflection. Someone was standing just beyond the driver’s side with a mask on, recording.
Nick shook his head. “How the hell do you not notice that? I know you can get caught in the moment, but I’d know if Jason Voorhees was sitting front row.”
“Get ready for the finale,” Xander warned, tone flat.
The screen shifted.
Layla came up again. She was kneeling this time. Another familiar voice said something off-screen. A second later, their back came into frame, and a stream of piss hit Layla’s chest and face.
Full HD. Uncensored. Crystal fucking clear.
“Aw, what the fuck, man.” Nick shoved his plate away.
Rook fucking cackled.
I sat there trying to process what I was seeing. Watching Layla Vargas get a golden shower was not on any of our bingo cards, but now it was burned into our retinas. I couldn’t care less about that or all the bodies she racked up in a week. I cared that my girl still thought of her as a friend. Layla wasn’t like us, who wore our polished disguises in public and stored them neatly away at home. We might’ve had secrets that could never see the light of day, but those who mattered never had to worry that we were someone else entirely.
Layla was a stranger in her own skin.
She’d built a persona around being timid. Moody. Fragile in a deliberately disarming way. Always speaking like she was unsure, always acting like the room was too loud, and everyone was one wrong look away from breaking her. Sanjana walked on eggshells around this girl most of the time. Roxxi had caught on to her weeks ago, followed by Cloe, who had never been a fan and tolerated her for Sanj’s sake. Ari started noticing things around the same time. Body language, tone shifts, and the subtle guilt games Layla liked to play.