Shattered and Shaken Read Online Free

her back and her red peek-a-boo streaks stick out, matching her outfit perfectly. I hate to love her beautifulness.
    “Here, witch, go put this on and hurry the hell up,” she demands, handing me a pair of dark-denim skinny jeans with a pink and black striped halter. I throw on the clothes and head to the bathroom. Thankfully, my skin's blemish free and I don't require much make-up. Ha! Make-up, making up for the looks your ass don't have.
    I put on a little face powder, make my eyelids smoky, elongate my lashes with black mascara, and trace my lips with light pink gloss. Curling my hair, I pull it back into a loose ponytail so that the curls drape perfectly around my shoulders. Spraying myself with perfume, I head out to my room, and as I open the door, Soph shoves a pair of pink strappy pumps into my arms. “Here, strap these ladies on and let’s get goin'. Damn, woman!” She's so bossy.
    “Zip it, bitch; you can't rush perfection,” I inform her, strapping on the pumps. Reaching behind her, I grab my clutch and exit the door, but Sophie doesn't follow. “ Comin'?” I motion out the door.
    “Can't,” she replies.  
    “Why? Ohmygod, if you tell me I need to change, I will kick you in the vagina so hard your granny will scream in pain,” I hiss. She doesn't want to test me, not tonight; I'll do it!
    “Hell no, woman! I'm dumbfounded. Your sexiness paralyzed my mind for a minute, I forgot how to walk,” she stumbles playfully as she walks past me, slapping me on the ass. God, I love this woman. If you don't have a Sophie, you better start taking applications now. She's a total bad ass, and no one should have to spend their life without someone like her in it.
    We arrive at Willie's around ten fifteen, and for a Friday night, it's not too packed. Willie's is a small local bar with a great dance floor. The bar is L-shaped, the walls are wood paneled, and it reeks of sex and booze. As I wiggle my way through the dance floor, my eyes clash with the most handsome man in the room. He stands at six foot three, has lean muscles that go on for days, shuffled light brown hair, a gorgeous smile, and hypnotic hazel eyes. He's friggin' gorgeous, like Calvin Klein underwear-model sexy.
    Blake stands and waves me over to him. Running full force, I jump into him and wrap my arms tightly around his neck. “Hey, beautiful, I've missed you,” he whispers in my ear.
    “You have no idea how much I've missed you,” I say, resting my head on his shoulder. Blake is my security blanket. I know that I'm safe with him, and as much as I wish I wasn't, I'm dangerously attracted to him. I know we don't stand a chance, but it's nice to pretend.
    “Drink?” He kisses my temple and waves his arm, calling the bartender over. “What can I get you pretty ladies?” Ladies? Ladies is plural, meaning more than one, and I'm the only lady with Blake; unless he's referring to Blake as a woman. If that's the case, things are about to get real ugly.
    “We'll have two eight liquor ass kickers,” Sophie shouts, squeezing between Blake and I.
    Eight liquor ass kicker? I don't know a damn thing about alcoh ol, but this shit sounds lethal. “Soph, what's an eight liquor ass kicker?”
    “Eight liquor's, one drink, dangerously delicious,” she explains, taking her drink from the server.
    “Maybe I shouldn't.” I push my drink towards her.
    “No? What happened to 'I'm twenty-one and I'm gonna start living like it'?” she asks, using those damn air quotes I hate. “News flash, Al, this is what you're supposed to do when you're twenty-one; drink, dance, party, have lots of sex, and lose yourself in the moment.” She's holding her arms out, spinning in a circle like she's in heaven.
    Calling the bartender back over, I consider asking him to change my drink to coke on the rocks, then I look at how much fun everyone's having, and I think, to hell with it - I'm living it up tonight.
    The bartender delivers us a third round of these ass-kicker