Page 85 of Tips and Trysts

Lander Dawson

Oh, you know what, that actually looks amazing

Did it hurt?

Me

The hole in my dick, Lander? Did it hurt? REALLY?

Dalton Cavendish

Damn it. I got kicked out. Gotta go. Should find mom.

But Ev, my advice: Go have fun for once. It’s one night.

Lander Dawson

He’s right

Also, your manscaping’s looking good. Thought you should know.

Have fun for once.It’s alarming how much better I feel.

Ready, I exit the bathroom and head back into the fray.

I’ve earned this—and so has she.

Twenty-Eight

CORA

The guy covered intattoos and lurking near me is ludicrously hot, and I’m very much uninterested in him. He’s convinced he’s getting laid tonight though, which is baffling to me because I’ve spent the last five minutes hinting that I’m not interested.

“For the last time, I’m not going to fuck you,” I inform him before I take a long pull from my gin and tonic through the two little black cocktail straws in my drink.

…Alright, I admit: My version of hinting is abitmore direct than most, but it’s somehow still not direct enough.

He blinks, and I figure he’s fully short-circuiting until he says, “You did two shots with me, took a picture with me, and let me kiss your face.”

My eyebrow practically skyrockets. “And since we’re listing everything I did tonight, don’t forget: I also told you I’m not going to fuck you. Twice.”

His face contorts into a sneer, and this is surely the part of the conversation where he calls me a bitch, a cunt, a bitchy cunt, or a cunty bitch.

“Look,” I preempt, “I know, I know—I’m the cuntiest bitch who ever cunted, and you sincerely hope that my bitchy cunt gets what’s cunting to it.”

When I finish speaking, he doesn’t even laugh—ugh.Boring. Everett would have loved that one. Rolling my eyes, I finish my drink, slide it across the bar, and wave goodbye to the tattooed guy before he can string together a sentence. Over it.

I want to go home.

But Beverly still hasn’t texted me back to tell me if the clip I posted was good enough, so until she does, I’m stuck here.

I weave into the crowd on the dancefloor. When I find Essie and Valeria, they’re together in the center, mouthing the words to the song playing. I join them, and the three of us dance the way we have for years now. But tonight, all we get is a few minutes together before a pair of big hands slides down my hips and pulls me back against a hard body.

Alarmed, I whirl around and find myself face to face with this grabby hipster wearing thick rimmed glasses and a baseball cap. He has pretty eyes though.

“Princess, I thought you were going to be a good girl tonight,” the hipster murmurs in a voice I could never mistake. Everett presses his lips to my forehead.

“What are you doing here?” I question, pulling my head back to stare at him.

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