The FBucket List by Lena Fox

Author:Lena Fox [Fox, Lena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Georgina

Last night with Blake was … it was almost more than I could bear.

My head was in the worst state. The things he’d done to me, the way he’d behaved while he had me tied up, and how considerate he’d been either side of that, left me utterly confused about the kind of man he really was. He seemed so ready to play the part, to use me however he wanted. Was that the real him, and he was just pretending to care? I had to remind myself that that was actually what I wanted from him—a man who was just after sex.

But despite reminding myself over and over that it didn’t matter what kind of man he was, everything felt like it was getting way too complicated.

I drove to Blake’s that day, fifty-fifty torn between doing the next list item and ending this arrangement.

I got out of my car and went to the door but just as I raised my hand to knock, the door opened and a girl with a face covered with smeared makeup and a neck covered in hickeys peered out at me.

“Holy shit, that sun is going to kill me,” she said in this perfectly calm voice. The smell of alcohol baked off her, mingled with sweat. She raised a shaking hand, shielded her eyes, and added, “Wow. You must be her.”

I blinked. “Her, who?”

“The girl Buddy thought I was when he kissed me the first time.” She looked me up and down as I did the same to her. I was too busy wondering if she meant Blake was Buddy and what she meant about the first time to assess how similar we appeared.

“Dude, that guy drinks like a fish swims. I am lucky to be alive.” Glancing down the driveway, she let out a long groan. “I think I threw up in my car. This is going to be one fucking rough ride home.”

I followed her with my gaze as she wobbled across the lawn and peeked in the windows of a blue sedan parked half on and half off the curb. “Yeah, I definitely threw up in there.”

“Maybe you should roll the windows down,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yeah, smart one. What time is it, anyway?”

“Two.”

“In the morning?” She gazed up at the bright sky. “Duh, of course it’s two in the afternoon. I am so fucking fried—fri—fired … both,” she said. Blinking a few times at the sky above, the color dropped from her face and she dashed back from the curb to hurl in the neighbor’s hydrangeas. Then she fell over and got tangled in the bushes, and yelled a bunch of words I wasn’t sure were even English before making it back to her feet and getting into her car.

The windows went down, more yelling ensued, and then a pair of panties flew out the window and landed on the sidewalk. Her car lurched from side to side, and I winced, hoping she made it back wherever she had come from without killing someone.

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