Read Online The Hurricane by R.J. Prescott - Free Book Online

hadn’t, I would have agreed to go then taken one look at my miserable wardrobe and changed my mind again.
    “Here we go,” she beamed, as she pulled more clothes out for me.
    “You looked like you were sucking lemons when you saw those dresses, so we’ll work up to that. This is much more your style. Now go and try them on,” she ordered, as she piled me up then pushed me toward the door to the bathroom. I was as shocked to discover that I had a definable style, as I was to find that I liked the outfit. The blue silk strappy top had a cleverly hidden support and was loose enough that it didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, but fitted enough to show off my curves. The tight denim hugged my figure and made my legs seem impossibly long. The cute heels, that seemed to tower because I was used to walking in flats, topped off the outfit nicely.
    “Perfect,” Nikki announced as I made my reveal.
    “Add some make-up and jewellery, and you’ll look amazing. If we get ready here, I can do your make-up.”
    I must admit that by the time Nikki was done with me, I did feel pretty awesome. She had chosen a long delicate silver necklace with a small heart charm at the end of it and a pair of beautiful stud earrings. My makeup was natural looking and not too flamboyant, which was perfect for me. For the first time in a long time, I felt pretty. Not jaw dropping, stand out in the crowd attractive, but pretty. Nikki had done a great job, and considering that we hadn’t know each other that long, I was touched that she’d done so much for me. Of course, any self-confidence she’d given me with the makeover pretty much evaporated as soon as I walked in the door to the party. The place was absolutely packed. Grabbing my hand tightly, Nikki weaved us through the throng toward the kitchen. The smell of stale beer and overpowering aftershave was nauseating. Heads turned as we walked through, obviously drawn to Nikki’s stunning figure. She shared none of my self-doubt or aversion to showing skin. Her killer heels and figure hugging, strapless black dress left little to the imagination. She stood out in a way that I never would, but I was totally fine with that. Hers was a good shadow to stand in. As we reached the kitchen, drinks were flowing.
    “What do you drink?” Nikki asked.
    “Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never had a drink before,” I replied.
    “You’re shitting me,” Nikki exclaimed, slack jawed.
    I shrugged my shoulder and smiled, knowing it was almost unheard of for someone my age.
    “Okay, lightweight,” she sighed, taking a bottle of Becks from the fridge.
    “Rule number one. You never accept a drink from anyone, and I mean ANYONE, who isn’t in our group. I’m going to start you off on beer, seeing as shots would probably put your untrained body into an alcoholic coma. You only take sealed bottles from the fridge and you open them yourself. Rule number two. You don’t go off on your own with any of the guys here. Most of them are decent, but it only takes one stupid arsehole to convince himself he’s God’s gift, and that ‘no’ is the secret code word for ‘yes’.”
    These boys had nothing on what I’d seen. I was grateful for Nikki’s concern, but I didn’t have any interest in drinking, either. The idea of losing control, especially in a place like this, scared me. I’d never hear the end of it, though, if I didn’t at least look like I was drinking. For most of the people here, not drinking meant that you weren’t having a good time. Determined to drag out my drink then refill the bottle with water afterwards, I tipped back a mouthful of beer. It tasted gassy and heavy, but not as bad as I thought it would. Watching guys chucking back pints, I figured it must be an acquired taste. Grabbing a vodka and soda for herself, she pulled me back into the fray. It was obvious when she saw Ryan because her relaxed posture suddenly stiffened. He was chatting to a girl, and from the way she was pushing out