Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
My eyes are burning. There’s a lump in my throat.
I think I might have just embarrassed myself in that hallway.
I acted like a toddler.
Not to mention a terrorist, just like Josh said—a jealous, pissy, bitchy little terrorist. And a mean girl. That’s right, I said it. I was every bit as mean to that bitch as she was to me in the first place. Maybe even meaner. Right now she’s probably crying to her bestie—Isabel Effing Randolph, for crying out loud!—about how she doesn’t understand what Josh could possibly see in a mean bitch like me.
And she’s right. But that bitch started it, goddammit! ‘Charming, Josh,’ she said, looking me up and down. Who could blame me for tearing into her? If Sarah were here she’d tell me what I did was justifiable bitchicide.
I just can’t understand what Josh ever saw in a girl like that. Is he really that shallow? I’m not exactly an endless reservoir of deep thoughts, I’ll admit, but I’m not human plankton like that girl. And, even more importantly, I’m nice. Or, okay, I’m not mean (not normally, anyway)—although, okay, yes, I have a bit of a bitchy streak, a wee bit of a temper—and it certainly came out tonight. But I’m not flat-out mean (not usually). Sarah always says I have a heart of gold, doesn’t she? And Sarah’s a fantastic judge of character.
Seriously, if Josh is interested in a girl like Jen, even for one night, just because she has an incredible body—which, holy hell, she sure does, oh my effing God, that was quite a body on her—then he truly must be the diehard playboy I pegged him for right from the start. And that thought makes me feel... What does it make me feel? I can’t identify it.
Rejected.
Yeah. That’s it. I feel rejected more than anything else—even more than jealous.
And that’s just plain stupid.
But I can’t help it.
All night long—or, actually, even before coming to Vegas—I’ve been feeling like Josh and I have some sort of special connection, something with potential to turn into something serious. Something maybe even beautiful. And now I can’t help thinking that’s exactly what Jen thought she had with Josh, too. Maybe Josh makes every girl feel like girlfriend-material, simply because he’s so damned gorgeous and charming? Jen was clearly clueless about the way Josh really felt about her—am I equally clueless, too?
The shooter at the craps table rolls a nine, and everyone breathes a sigh of relief.
Goddammit, why don’t I have my purse or phone? Or at least my effing shoes? Classic Kat. I cross my arms in a huff and wobble in place with the effort.
Shit. I feel kinda bad for how hard I punched that mean girl in the teeth, even though she was a total bitch. Did I really have to go quite that nuclear on her ass? Couldn’t I maybe have just thrown a cherry bomb at her? Or maybe even, like, a dart? I put some horrible words into Josh’s mouth—words that probably shattered her heart, if, indeed, she’s got one buried underneath those spectacular breasts.
Jeez. Maybe I don’t have a heart of gold, after all, no matter what Sarah says.
I wipe my eyes. They’re suddenly burning like crazy. I can’t seem to swallow that huge lump in my throat. Maybe I’m just a bitch through and through.
“Kat.”
I turn around. It’s Josh, holding my shoes and purse and looking incredibly relieved to see me.
Without even thinking about it, I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze—and he encircles me in his strong arms.
He kisses me on the cheek. And then the ear. And then the neck. I brush my lips against his jawline, aching for him to kiss me like I’ve never been kissed before.
But he doesn’t.
He pushes a large swath of wet hair off my cheek. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You went fucking psycho on me.”
I shake my head.
“Come on, Kat. Talking lets the feelings out.”
“I’m just drunk,” I say, squeezing him with all my might. “Ignore me—I’m not acting like myself. Just, please, forget this ever happened. I’m not mean, I swear.”
“Forget this ever happened? Highly unlikely,” he says. “A man doesn’t soon forget the sight of a bare ass like yours marching down a hallway.” He nuzzles his nose into mine but, again, he doesn’t kiss me, not that I can blame him.
I kiss his cheek. And then his ear.
He shudders at the touch of my lips.
“Josh,” I whisper, my heart aching. I want him so bad, it hurts.
After a moment, Josh pulls back from me and looks deep into my eyes, rubbing my cheeks with his thumbs. “I guess this settles it, huh?—you really do have a vagina.”
I smile. “That wasn’t clear to you when you stuck your fingers inside it on the dance floor?”