Cameron Cole has a plan.
After yet another relationship ends because of certain shortcomings-literally-Cameron decides it's time to swear off dating and focus her energy into her junior year at the University of Charlotte. There's an internship up...
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END OF MAY
"That's it! I'm swearing off men! Men are over!"
Despite the bass-boosted music that can be heard from the goddamn moon, my announcement manages to turn the heads of mingling bodies nearby as they all stare at me with weird, confused frowns.
Let them stare. I'm too drunk to give a fuck right now.
Okay, so maybe heading straight to a house party right after a breakup and getting shitfaced drunk probably isn't the best for myself or the general public.
But there is literally no thought process involved in deciding to come here whatsoever.
Then again, there's rarely a thought process in any decision I make.
I slump back into the sticky leather sofa with a heavy sigh. "So, do I go to the shelter, or do the cats just appear on their own?"
"Noooooooo!" Jude drawls as he presses himself up against my side and pouts, smoothing a hand over my head like I'm a dog. "Your face is too pretty, and your titties are too big to die alone!"
"The titties didn't save me tonight, Jude. Even in pink lace, they didn't do shit," I sigh as I stare down at the girls.
Visually and physically measured at an astounding Double-D, my tits are always, always, always the first thing people notice about me. And although Mom swears it's my smile that turns heads, my smile isn't on my fucking chest.
"That is not their fault," Tasha says, pointing an accusing finger at me from where she kneels on the other side of the solo cup mountain atop the coffee table. "That's on the sad excuse for a male with the audacity of a baby carrot and thirty seconds of stamina."
"It is more like a thumb!" I cry out, my bottom lip feeling heavy and wobbly and tears beginning to pool at the corners of my eyes. "When I tried to jerk him off, it just felt like I was giving him a fucking business handshake!"
There's a pause in the group surrounding me—an astronomical pause of silence that's louder than the music—before they're all erupting into chaotic laughter.
I fold my arms across my chest defensively as my usual embarrassed-but-pissed-the-fuck-off pout takes over my face.
My eyes narrow on each and every one of them. "Y'all are bitches."
That only makes them howl louder than the music.
There are about eight of us in the circle—although it only really starts with me and Jude.
When I marched in through the front door of the house, tears in my eyes and both hands like Arthur's fists, Jude was standing in the foyer flirting with some long-haired guy. But the second he saw me, he ditched the Ponytail, pulled me into the living room, and demanded to know everything.
