The Jerk Next Door by Komal Kant

Author:Komal Kant [Kant, Komal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-26T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Henley was the friend that should never be in charge of making drinks.

First of all, she always put a copious amount of alcohol in the drink and then masked it with a super sweet mixer. Secondly, she lied about it.

“I don’t know,” I told her, chewing on my bottom lip as I studied the pale red concoction in front of me. “How much booze is in this?”

“Not much,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s just a tiny bit of Jägermeister and peach schnapps with cranberry juice. You can’t even taste the alcohol.”

I would bet my moody cat, my fugly net curtains, and the too-tight bikini I was wearing that that was a lie.

We were at my house having pre-drinks before we headed over to Leo’s for his party. As much as I hated to admit it, all of me was actually looking forward to seeing him. For starters, he made me laugh when he wasn’t annoying me, and he didn’t sneeze all over me. But some part of me was worried if I really was starting to feel more for him beyond the general annoyance.

On the plus side, for once I felt, well, hot. Henley had convinced me to buy a pale pink, two-piece bikini that pushed my boobage so far up my chest that I was worried I’d poke myself in the eye with a nipple.

The loose, white dress I had thrown over it had a low, rectangular cut at the front that showed off my newly found cleavage and cinched my waist before flaring out into a short skirt.

“I am going to need something strong if that Thanh man is going to be there.” Jac pulled a face as she slid into the chair beside me at the kitchen table, looking incredible as usual.

She had bought a white, one-piece swimsuit that was mostly backless, and had tied a black and white sarong off at her waist. Rather than appearing raunchy and under-dressed, she looked classy and elegant.

On the other hand, Henley had gone for as little class as possible. She had such an abundance of swimming attire that she’d just worn one of her favorite ones; a red, string bikini with a pair of tiny denim shorts to finish off the look.

Nodding sympathetically at Jac’s romantic woes, Henley placed a pale pink drink down in front of her, too. “One extra strong Redheaded Slut for you.”

“Excuse me?” I spluttered.

“The shot,” she explained, holding up her own glass in explanation. “It’s called a Redheaded Slut.”

“Oh.” My eyes turned back to the drink in front of me. I picked it up and gave it a suspicious sniff. “What should we drink to?”

“The price of gas, having Arun as a friend, the presidential nominees,” Jac listed without pause.

“Those are all bad things,” I realized.

This didn’t faze her. “So?”

With a shrug, I raised my glass. “To the bad things.”

We clinked glasses and downed our shots. Actually, it wasn’t too bad. Hen was right; you could hardly taste the alcohol.

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