Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
I shake my head, at a loss for words. The idea that something this sordid could be happening in the suburbs of Granite Heights is almost ridiculous. I’ve lived here almost my entire life and I never, ever would have suspected it.
“I don’t know about that, Jenny,” I reply, my face heating up as I watch the orgy that’s happening around me. “This is like some Eyes Wide Shut shit.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, “but without the masks. Even better, right?”
I shake my head, astounded.
“I don’t think this is really my scene.”
Jenny turns to me as she shrugs off her shirt. Her ample chest jiggles in her tiny bra, but my friend doesn’t seem bothered at all.
“I felt the same way at my first one. Just trust me. Grab some champagne or something. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” She winks at me. “But I haven’t seen anyone come to one of these things and not have a good time.”
“Right,” I say, biting my lip. “I guess I’m going to be the first.”
“Whatever you say, Frankie,” Jenny says. “Come to the kitchen with me and get some wine, at least. It’ll loosen you up. And take your dress off.”
“No way,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself.
She shrugs, pulling off her shorts and not seeming at all embarrassed to be standing there in her bra and underwear. Without another word she heads for the kitchen. Not knowing what else to do, I follow her like a sheep.
There’s more debauchery going on in the kitchen, and the drink counter seems to be the only surface that people aren’t using to get off. Unbothered, Jenny grabs a glass and fills it with champagne, passing it to me before pouring one for herself. I take a tentative sip, hoping the alcohol will at least let me relax, but as I watch Jenny strike up a conversation with a big blond man, I doubt it. Moments later he’s taking her by the hand and leading her away to another room, and she shoots me a sly look over her shoulder as she goes. Oh my god, is my friend going to …?
I’m left standing in the corner, the only clothed person in a house full of naked people, my fingers feeling numb on my champagne glass. Everywhere I look, people are having fun. I must be the only virgin here, and it’s probably obvious to everyone around me. Did Jenny know when she invited me? Is this just a ploy to find me a guy to hook up with? Or is it some kind of cruel prank to get back at me for leaving her in Granite Heights?
As the questions surge through my mind, I find my grip on my champagne glass loosening. By the time I realize that it’s slipping out of my fingers, it’s already too late, and the next thing I know, the champagne is splashing all over the man next to me. I fumble to catch the glass before it shatters on the floor, but the damage is done; the man turns to look at me as he wipes champagne off his chest, and one look at him is enough to make my breath catch in my throat.
He’s the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen. He’s probably in his late twenties to early thirties, by my guess, with jet-black hair and sky blue eyes. His body is tall and athletic, his bare chest sculpted like a model’s. He’s naked like the rest of him, and I force myself not to gape at how well-endowed he obviously is. My eyes snap back to his gorgeous face, cheeks flushing hotly. For a moment I’m at a loss for words, and all I can do is stammer.
“S-sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the guy drawls, giving me a crooked smile that makes my heart race.
I blush, looking at the ground. Have I ever seen a guy this beautiful? More importantly, has a guy this beautiful ever said more than a single word to me? I’ve never felt more out of place in my entire life, and I’m already forgetting about Jenny, too sheepish and embarrassed in the presence of this handsome stranger. Realizing he’s waiting for a response, I blink, blush harder, and meet his intense blue gaze.
“Sorry, what was that?”
The guy grins again, looking both understanding and teasing.
“I asked you what your name was.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip. “My name’s Frankie.”
“Frankie,” the guy says, nodding thoughtfully. “I like that - it’s cute.” Does he have any idea that he has me sweating and fumbling like a giddy schoolgirl? “Is it short for something?” he asks.
I clear my throat.
“Um, yeah. Francine. But I never really felt like a Francine, you know? Not since I was a kid, when my mom…” Realizing I’m babbling, I mentally kick myself, wishing I could crawl under the kitchen counter and never come out. Why the hell did I come here? What was I thinking? Now I’m standing here in front of a strange, gorgeous guy I don’t know, rambling on as if he would actually care about anything I have to say. “Sorry,” I repeat, feeling like I’m going to explode from the awkwardness. “What, ah… What’s your name?”