Addie (Pack of Misfits #1) - Raven Kennedy Page 0,45
the water dripping all night. It took me a good five minutes to get the perfect trickle from the spigot. With just a bit of flow, it made the water lap against my skin just like it would in a lake, and it settled me enough to get some sleep.
“It took a lot of finagling to get the water pressure just right,” I tell her with irritation.
Ignoring my tone, she turns the hose off and then tosses it onto the ground. A small splash comes up from the impact. “You flooded the backyard,” she points out.
I lean over the edge of the polka-dotted shallow pool to get a look. And yep, my trickling hose did, in fact, flood the backyard. The grassy area all around has a couple inches of water. The rain boots that they’re wearing make more sense now.
“Whoopsie daisy,” I offer.
They exchange a look before Zoey crosses her arms and looks down at me again. “Addie, please tell me you did not sleep in this kiddie pool all night long.”
Indignant at her tone, I try to sit up a bit, but the bright blue plastic of the inflatable kiddie pool is slippery as hell, so I glide right back down, making the water splash in my face and the plastic squeak embarrassingly loud. The pool is only about four feet in diameter, so my legs hang awkwardly over the edge, my fingers and toes are like prunes, and I have water lodged in one of my ears. Maybe sleeping in a kiddie pool was not my best idea.
Instead of trying to sit up again, I settle for leaning my head back on the blow-up donut that I used as a pillow last night, and try to do that thing where I tilt my chin up so I can look haughty. Instead, I tilt it too much, sending the donut flying back, and my head falls into the water with a splash. I come up sputtering and spitting, choking a little on the water that went down the wrong tube.
Zoey shakes her head at me. “This is low. Even for you.”
“Can one of you at least help me up?” I ask, feeling crankier by the second now that water went up my nose. It’s not a nice feeling.
“You made your kiddie pool bed. Now you have to paddle in it,” she quips.
Stinger, one of the enforcers for the pack, comes strolling out with a plate of cocktail shrimp that he’s tossing into his mouth and swallowing whole. When he sees me in my duck-ini (bikini with ducks on it), sopping wet in the kiddie pool and glaring at the girls, he grins at the sight.
“Talk about wet dreams,” he quips.
I point at him. “I will let my duck bite your nose off while you sleep.”
He wags his eyebrows. “Kinky.”
He sidles up between Zoey and Aspen, settling his elbow on Aspen’s shoulder before offering her a shrimp. She wrinkles her nose and politely declines. He’s wearing green flip flops, bright orange board shorts, and a gray, fancy collared polo that in no way goes with the bottom half of his outfit. When he’s not in uniform for guard duty at the gate, he dresses like someone confused about whether he’s on spring break or going golfing.
“Do I want to know why you look like you slept in the kiddie pool all night?” he asks conversationally as he eats another shrimp. He’s not even dipping it in anything. Just eating the cold things as-is.
“I like the water,” I grumble.
Stinger chomps on another bite. “Can’t fault you there.”
When he notices the graffiti, he stops eating for five seconds to take it in. “Does that say, don’t fuck our duck?”
“No!” I say with irritation.
He opens his mouth, no doubt to tease me mercilessly, but his phone rings, interrupting him. He pulls it out from his pocket and with a wink at Aspen, he saunters back inside to answer it.
Zoey sighs and kneels down. “Come on. Let’s get you out of there.”
“I can do it myself,” I say stubbornly.
I try to get out of the pool again, and this time, I actually manage to pull my leg back and get a knee under me as I turn. But...yeah, it’s slippery. I cause more of the terribly embarrassing plastic squeaking noises and I scramble for purchase, while trying not to completely eat shit (again). My arms and legs flail around as I try to haul myself out. It really shouldn’t be this difficult, but