Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
I’d walked right into a football party.
Eyeing Savannah, I asked, “You guys do these parties often?” My box was slipping, so I transferred it to my hip and hiked it up.
Before she could answer, Noel dipped his head to her ear, saying something. She nodded, smiling, and pulled away. “Later.”
He gave me a polite smile before heading over to one of the couches. The guys heralded him as if he’d been declared missing with posters and a local search and rescue. I thought it was all a bit much, but no one else blinked an eye. I was in the minority.
“I’ll show you your room, yeah?”
Savannah ducked her head down, indicating past the two living rooms and into what looked like the kitchen. I followed, holding my box still on my hip. I wanted to have a hand free. You never knew when you’d have to push another Mean Girl aside so she didn’t trample you.
A few more people were in the kitchen. The dining room adjacent. An attached patio from there.
She led the way past the people standing by the sink. One was a shorter girl with sleek brown hair, bright brown eyes, and a wide smile. She saw Savannah, the smile remained, then her eyes tracked to me, to the box, to my backpack, and the smile dimmed. Dramatically. It was damn near gone as Savannah walked past her, reaching out, a hand tapping the girl’s arm in hello. The girl had been talking to another guy, another meathead-type. He had on khaki shorts, a polo shirt, and a beer in hand. He reached forward, touching the girl’s waist, but she stiffened. And hissing, she stormed past us, those frosty eyes on me. She almost clipped me at the shoulder, but I was ready. Free hand and all. It was a good thing she swung out of the way at the last minute, or I would’ve shoved her right into her guy.
Savannah turned toward what looked like the garage door.
My room was in the garage? For real?
She motioned to me, her smile now forced and pasted on. “Down here.”
Down here was a door that went to the basement, and once we were down there, it was a lot quieter. I almost sagged in relief.
She noticed, her eyes crinkling. “Not one for parties?”
“Not one for people who don’t want me here.”
Had I… Oh shit. I had.
I clamped that free hand—see, I knew there was a practical use for it—over my mouth. I was blaming the lack of sleep and sheer will that had me driving across five states in two days. “I’m sorry,” I said with my hand still over my mouth, so it was awkwardly moving with my lips. “I didn’t mean that.”
She snorted, turning to the right. “Why not? I would’ve said worse.” She motioned ahead. “Come on. I’ll show you your room.”
She went through what looked like a section of the basement that had been turned into an apartment. There was a kitchenette area. A medium-sized fridge. A tiny sink. A tiny oven that my grandma might’ve used in the ’30s. There were two tables. One was decked out with a red plaid plastic tablecloth, and another that was simply a brown round table. A few chairs around each. She motioned to a room attached to the kitchen, to the left of the stairs. “That’s Lisa’s room.” Her eyes flicked upwards. “The one we just passed by.”
Oh.
Lovely.
We’d braid each other’s hair and exchange best friend beads, that much I was sure of.
Then Savannah was continuing on, going through the kitchen and into another room. It wasn’t separated by a door, just a half-wall partition, and this room was obviously a game room. An old pool table. A foosball table. Even a bar tucked in the corner.
She kept straight, continuing on to a door on the other side of the room.
Dread lined my insides and she opened the door and stepped inside.
There was no more house to go.
I couldn’t be in that room. It was literally right next to a party room. There was a bar, for fuck’s sake.
But I stepped to the doorway and peeked in.
The room was bare. A bed in the corner. An empty nightstand.
“Come in.”
I did, and she shut the door.
A desk was built into the wall behind the door with shelves above that. A dresser was beside it.
Another door was attached on the far end of the room. I assumed it was the closet.
It wasn’t.
She opened it and stepped through. “Okay. So. I know this room sucks. I do. Char left and everyone shifted rooms. You got stuck with this one. And I’d like to say we never use that room, but we do. And I know I didn’t answer your question above, but we do. Often. We’re big into football.” She seemed to hesitate, biting her lip, before rushing on. “But here’s the upside of this room.”