Free Cruel Summer by Kylie Adams

stood no chance of getting a shag from her.
    “Yes, really,” Max fired back.
    If there was a cockier lad on the planet, Pippa hadn’t met him yet. “Well, I hope you don’t get knob rot waiting for that day.”
    “Why? Because you’re wet for Dante now?” Max tried to sound cool, but a hint of jealousy had crept into his tone.
    “He’s lush, but I don’t fancy him. Not my type.”
    “You must not like mutts,” Max said.
    “What do you mean?” Pippa asked.
    “He’s half-Puerto Rican, half-black,” Max explained.
    “It’s not that.” His implication that she was prejudiced infuriated her. “God, you’re such an asshole!”
    Max laughed.
    Pippa giggled. “You know, I thought he was going to beat seven shades of shit out of you last night.”
    “We were drunk,” Max remarked easily. “No biggie.”
    “I can’t even remember what started it.”
    “I talked a little trash about his mom. She’s one of our maids. Maybe I should accuse her of stealing something.”
    Pippa was outraged. “Max!” Still, she found herself laughing. He was so incorrect.
    “I know, I’m a dick. But that’s why you’ll end up banging me one day. Dante’s too serious for you. I’ll make you laugh, and I’ll make you come.”
    “We’re mates, Max,” Pippa said earnestly. “I don’t want to ruin that.” She thought about how much she missed her friend Annabelle. She also thought about how nasty Vanity had been to her since she’d arrived. “Can I tell you something?”
    “What?”
    “You’re the best mate I have in the world right now.” As Pippa gave breath to those last words, her voice quivered with emotion.
    “That’s a sweet thing to say,” Max said softly. Then he grew quiet, as if carefully choosing his next words. “But at the very least you’ve got to show me your tits.”
    “Max!” Pippa exclaimed. “I’ve never met a bigger pig in my life!”
    He laughed.
    Pippa laughed with him. She really did have a mate in Max. And it was a great feeling.
    “Still tired?” he asked.
    Pippa thought about it. “Not as much.”
    “Good. Get dressed. I’m coming to pick you up.”
    “What about my mum?” Pippa asked.
    “Figure something out,” Max told her. “There’s always the window. That’s a classic escape.”
    Pippa went through the motions of wavering, even though ninety-nine percent of her had already decided to go along. “Just so you know, I don’t have any cash.”
    “No worries. You can drink all night for free,” Max said. “On one condition.”
    Pippa was already rolling her eyes. “And what might that be?”
    “A flash of those tits.”
    Pippa shook her head, laughing at him. “Fine! I’ll show you my puppies. But just this once.” She hung up and rushed around, careful not to make too much noise. After all, her mum spent more hours crying at night than she did sleeping.
    Memories of Pippa’s huge walk-in closet at the London estate blistered her brain as she slid open the door to her new cramped storage space, hoping to find something to wear. Not much to choose from. Her finest pieces had been sold. She scowled at the warped top shelf and the bits of chipped paint that littered the floor. This place was a total hole. Meanwhile, Max and Vanity lived like a duke and duchess in their palatial homes. So unfair.
    Pippa snatched one of the few designer frocks she had left—a great number by Ann Demeulemeester. It was a sexy, dangerously short distressed white cotton dress with shoulder straps as thin as dental floss. All the better for Pippa to show off her killer tan and flawless body.
    She snatched her best and only pair of spike-heeled Manolo Blahniks and tiptoed to the loo, where she mussed her hair into a just-shagged mess with Dirt by Jonathan Product. Then she quickly applied mascara, swiped on some lip gloss, and—just for kicks—put on her John Richmond shades with VIVA emblazoned on one arm and RICH emblazoned on the other. Sunglasses at night. How brilliant.