Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
I grab my bottle of water along with Asher’s beer before following him. Once the beverage has been passed off, I do a cursory inspection of the immediate vicinity just to make sure Carson isn’t fucking with me. Although, it’s doubtful he would do that. We’ve been friends for way too long for that kind of bullshit. If there’s one guy I trust, it’s him. Rowan Michaels would be a close second.
A quick scan of the room as I beeline to the staircase solidifies that Carson wasn’t yanking my chain. Kira is nowhere to be seen.
Carson is right about one thing—I need to do something about this situation before it spirals any further out of control. I refuse to spend the rest of senior year looking over my shoulder and avoiding my own house. I need that chick to understand that we are never getting together. At this point, there’s no way we can even be friends.
“Kendricks, where you going?” Crosby Rhodes shouts from his sprawled-out position in an armchair.
I flick my gaze at him. Like most of the other guys, he’s surrounded by a handful of females. Being on the football team will get you all the chicks you could ask for. Having a lip ring and a sullen attitude will get you twice as many.
Go figure.
“Got a test to study for,” I call back, trudging up the steps.
“Come on, Kendricks, let me kick your ass in a little GTA,” Easton adds from the couch he’s stretched out on.
It’s a tempting offer, but still...
“If memory serves, aren’t I the one who kicked yours the last time we played?” I shoot back.
Easton smirks before shoving his chestnut-colored hair out of his bright blue eyes. If I’m not mistaken, a few girls in the room sigh. “Maybe. How about a rematch, then?”
“Sorry, not tonight.”
It might not seem like it, but I’ve never been a slouch in the partying department. Freshman year is nothing more than a blur. I spent most of it shitfaced, attempting to drown the grief that had been my constant companion.
Big surprise—it didn’t work.
What did end up happening is that I almost flunked out of college and got my ass kicked off the football team. Coach Richards pulled me aside at the end of the season and told me that I had a choice to make—either pull myself together or get the hell out of his program.
I could do one or the other, but not both.
That conversation had been a rude awakening, and it had been exactly what I needed to hear. The year before, I’d lost one of the most important people in my life. Losing football on top of it wasn’t a choice I was willing to make. I returned home and dried out over the summer. I focused on working out in the gym and getting stronger so I could prove to Coach that he hadn’t made a mistake in recruiting me. When I returned to Western for my sophomore year, I swapped out the alcohol for pussy. I guess if you can’t drown your sorrows in beer, girls are a close second. Except...it doesn’t actually solve anything or make your problems disappear. You just run the risk of an STI.
“Lame ass,” Easton shouts after me.
Knowing that I don’t have anything to prove, the taunt slides easily off my back. My accomplishments and the records I’ve broken over the years speak for themselves. “Yup.”
As I disappear onto the second floor, I swing right and pass by two doors before arriving at mine. Now that Kira is no longer a concern, my mind gravitates to the exam I need to cram for. I grab hold of the handle and push open the thick wood before crossing over the threshold. I probably have three solid hours of work ahead of me. After doing my damnedest to flunk out freshman year, it’s taken a lot of focus and determination to raise my GPA. The fact that, two years later, it’s over a three point zero is a source of pride for me.
I’m jerked out of those thoughts by a noise as my gaze cuts to the queen-sized bed at the far end of the room.
And the naked girl lying on top of it.
“Hey, Brayden,” Kira coos, shifting on the comforter as she spreads her legs wide. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Well, hell.
Chapter Two
Sydney
“Are you absolutely sure that you can’t squeeze me in?” I plead, phone shoved against my ear as I search the Union for my bestie. It’s noon and the place is packed with hungry students making a pitstop.
“Sorry, sweetie. If you had gotten ahold of me a few days earlier, I might have been able to slide you in, but someone else beat you to it and booked the last of my free time. I just can’t do it,” Marco finishes.