Chapters (48)
- Cover
- PRAISE FOR ALEXA MARTIN’S PLAYBOOK SERIES
- Titles by Alexa Martin
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Epilogue
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Pizza’s here!” I yell to Marie and Liv, who are spread out across my living room, practically comatose from the amount of wine and junk we’ve consumed over the course of our sleepover.
I would also like to note that sleepovers are way better as an adult. You can eat what you want, watch what you want, and drink all you want. Way better than when I was a kid and my dad made us go to bed early . . . even though we’re adults now and still wanted to go to bed early.
I swing the door open, holding out money for the tip, and freeze when the money is snatched out of my hand, but not by the delivery person.
“Thank you.” Brynn shoves the money in her jeans pocket before pushing past me. “Even though I think we are owed much more than five dollars for how long you’ve ignored us.”
For fuck’s sake, Elliot! Use the goddamn peephole!
Poppy, Vonnie, and Greer all file in after Brynn as I stand dumbfounded by my open door.
“What are you guys doing here?”
“Well . . .” Brynn grabs a cupcake off of my coffee table and licks the frosting off like a toddler. “Since you weren’t responding to our text messages, we decided we had to force our way into your house. It’s a good thing you answered because I bought a lock-picking kit and was prepared to get in no matter what.”
“I did not agree with that plan, so thank you for opening the door,” Poppy says as she falls onto my spot on the couch. But considering she’s like, a million months pregnant, I don’t say anything.
Vonnie, who usually has at least something to say, looks like she’s trying to blend in with the wall behind her. She’s staring down at my runner and even though I think it’s a great rug, it’s not that interesting. Then I remember Liv and Marie telling me that she thinks I’m mad at her.
Ignoring everyone else in the room, even though I know their nosy asses aren’t ignoring us, I walk over to Vonnie and put my hands on her shoulders. “Hey,” I say when she won’t meet my eyes. “I am not mad at you, not at all.”
“I just feel so terrible.” She closes her eyes and pushes her lips together. “I promised you I wouldn’t tell and then I did it in front of a room full of people. You must have been so pissed at me.”