Page 6 of Sin With Me


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My hands ball into fists, ripping the grass from the ground. Oli plops beside me, snickering as she gently elbows me.

“You look like you ate something sour,” she teases, flipping a lock of my blonde hair off my shoulder. “Oh, and Kevin said he could see up your dress.” She gives a pointed look at my bent legs and the hem of my white ruffled dress that’s slightly riding up my thighs, so I let them drop to the ground.

“He could not,” I huff out, and she shrugs. “This dress isn’t short enough for him to see anything.” I mentally run through which panties I chose to wear today. Thong or boyshorts? Thong or boyshorts? I shift, and the cool grass under me chills my cheeks.

Shit. He totally just got a show.

“You think he’s ever seen a vag before?” she asks, and I gasp mid-breath.

“Maybe online,” I say, but honestly, I can’t see him ever looking it up. He wouldn’t even know what to Google.

“Speaking of,” Oli says, drawing the words out. “How much have you made this month?” My eyes dart around the small group gathered around us.

“Not now,” I hiss, and she gives me a sly grin, knowing this is not something I’d ever want to discuss in public.

“Do you need us to make another special run?” She wiggles her brows at me, her mouth opening in an excited smile as she bumps my shoulder with hers.

“No,” I scoff, still scanning the party to make sure we have no eavesdroppers. I slide my eyes to her and smile back, unable to hide it anymore. “I have a package coming to your house.” She claps and lets out a piercing cackle, drawing a few people’s attention.

“What is it this time?” she asks, scooting closer. Her face is only inches from mine, her smile wide as she rubs her hands together. “Is it a butt plug? You know, they have ones with tails. You could have a tail, Evie! How cool would that be?”

“That’s definitely more your thing,” I laugh, and she nods her agreement, a serious expression overtaking her innocent face, and I immediately know she’s imagining just that. My eyes narrow on her. “What animal would you pick?”

Her green eyes lock onto mine as she bites her tongue in concentration, considering my question as though I asked her what the capital of New Mexico is instead of what type of animalistic butt plug she’d wear. I watch her work through it, thoroughly entertained by my best friend.

Suddenly, she grins. It’s not a normal look. It’s slightly crazed. Oli’s fingers pinch together, open and closed, open and closed, like tiny chopsticks. “A little baby lobster,” she coos.

I blink once. Twice. My mouth opens and closes just like her fingers did a moment ago as she mimed—pinchers?

“Olive—” I say slowly, hating to be the one to bust her happy bubble. It’s my least favorite thing in the world. “Honey. Lobsters don’t have tails.” At least not the kind she’s thinking of.

Her hands drop, and she rears back like I’ve slapped her. “I know that.”

“But do you?” I ask, brushing the wayward strands of my chaotic curls from my face when a gust of hot wind blows through the party.

She huffs. “Of course I do. Why would you even say that?” Completely confused, my hands flail between us. “Because you were talking about bu—” I snap my jaw shut seconds before loudly making a scene in the worst place imaginable. I lean forward and whisper-hiss, “You were talking about butt plugs with animal tails on them, Olive. Lobsters don’t have tails.”

She closes the few inches separating us, coming in so close her breath fans across my lips with every word. “I thought we were just naming animals.”

“Have you been drinking?” I murmur, glaring at her as the heady scent of vodka permeates the air. Olive grins, bobbing her head. “How?” Alcohol is strictly forbidden.

Here, at least.

Divinity Falls isn’t a dry town by any means, but we’re on church property, and being the unofficial child of the town Preacher means something to these people. It comes with certain—expectations. Even at 20 years old, sobriety is one of them. Especially considering Isaac’s past.

She pulls back and quickly scans the crowd. I follow her gaze, finding everyone now occupied with eating the freshly barbequed meat and sides as they chat loudly with their friends. Oli spins, giving her back to the group, and tugs her legs up into a bent position before digging into her Doc Martin.

Seconds later, she produces a small pink metal flask from the depths of her shoe, and I’m left gaping in shock. Without a word, she reaches over me, plucks my favorite yellow Yeti bottle of sweet tea from the ground, and removes the lid.

“What are you doing?” I choke out, even though I know exactly what she’s doing. She ignores me and uncaps her flask.

My eyes dart over Oli’s head, and I scan the party once more, my heart racing in my chest. Getting in trouble is the last thing I want to do right now.

My gaze immediately snags on Isaac at the pit with his back to us. The woman wearing a fitted red, white, and blue dress that shows way too much cleavage is glued to his side like a second skin.

That unfamiliar pang of jealous irritation burns in my chest again before sinking into my gut and settling like a brick. It aches in a way I haven’t felt for a long damn time, and I instantly hate it.

Why is Mary all over him?

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