Hat Trick (D.C. Stars, #4)

by Chelsea Curto

The worst ones are always blond. I am surprised by the polo he’s wearing. It’s striped, the collar is popped, and I thought we left that horrendous style behind in the early 2000s. There’s a silver chain attached to his belt loop, for god’s sake, and I’m half expecting to hear the dialup tone from AOL replace the EDM song playing from the club’s speakers. What’s next? Is someone going to ask for my screen name rather than my phone number?

Absolutely dead

I wish I had the balls of a mediocre white man who thinks he’s hot shit. I’d be unstoppable.

The life of every party and vivacious as hell with witty comebacks and a laugh that would bring any man to his knees. And if it were me down there, I’d wear a collar and crawl if she asked me to.

🥵🥵🥵

“I don’t have a death wish, but you might because the one who’s not giving you any attention? That’s my wife, and I don’t like when people touch what isn’t theirs. Any other questions?”

There are so many white men in this room that I’m worried the New Balance, high-waisted khaki shorts, and white socks stocks might drop while they’re all here.

Mhm. The girls loveeeeee you. Especially your slutty little glasses. Me They aren’t slutty. I need them to see. Easy E They’ve ALWAYS been slutty glasses.