Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Do you know how to cook?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, I am so in. If for nothing else than to see if you handle a kitchen the same way you did my espresso machine.”
I’m regretting inviting Levi over for Thanksgiving as Brady and I stare down at the still-raw turkey. At 4:00 p.m. We maybe, possibly, put it in the oven without turning it on and then got distracted watching football.
“At least everything else was store-bought and is ready to go,” I say.
“Great. We’ll have potato salad and pumpkin pie.”
“Protein shakes?”
“We should’ve ordered in,” Brady mutters. “I don’t think we have enough food for everyone either. How many people did you end up inviting?”
“Not the entire sixty-man roster if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“How many?” Brady asks, and I can already see him as my agent now. He has the disapproving glare down pat for when I fuck up a play or get in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons.
I pull on my ear. “About half of them? Plus Levi. Oh, and Ty from the lacrosse team with his boyfriend, Brax. I think my friend Charlie was also going to bring his boyfriend, Liam. But that’s it. I swear.” Ish.
“Fucking hell.” Brady makes his way over to the counter we keep all our liquor on and puts bottles and bottles of it on the dining room table. “Dinner is served.”
“I really don’t think people are going to mind that change of plans.”
“What should we do with the turkey?” Brady asks.
“Cook it on super high and see if it cooks in time?”
“Happy Thanksgiving. Please come in and get salmonella poisoning.”
“So … that’s a no?”
Our front door opens—the guys on the team know they’re welcome here anytime and waltz right in—but when we make our way to the entrance, it’s just Brady’s bestie, Felix, and Felix’s boyfriend … I want to say Michael? Matthew? Close enough. He’s the big cuddly teddy bear that eclipses Felix in size.
Felix lifts his nose into the air. “Why can’t I smell turkey cooking?”
“So, funny story …” I start.
Felix turns to his boyfriend. “I told you those burgers on the way here were a smart idea.”
“You’ve already eaten?” I act offended. “We’ve slaved over a hot stove all day for you, and you eat before you get here?”
Brady shoves me. “Don’t scare off Marshall”—Ha, I knew it started with an M—“with that shit. Felix has finally found a guy who likes him for who he is. Don’t ruin it for him. He might never find another one.”
Felix pouts. “There’s an insult in there somewhere.”
“Was I trying to be subtle?”
Felix flips off my brother.
Marshall hands over a plate to me. “I, uh, made pecan pie.”
“Awesome. Thanks. Looks like it’s pie and vodka for dinner.”
Felix left the front door open when he walked in, so of course, perfect timing, Levi steps through as I say this.
He laughs. “I can see cooking went as well as making coffee did.”
Not one to ever be a wallflower, Felix immediately asks, “Who are you?”
What am I supposed to say here? My date? A dude I hooked up with a couple of weeks ago, have randomly DM’d a couple of times since but haven’t seen again because football and school are taking up all my time? The messages haven’t been flirty or even mention what happened, but they’ve been friendly enough. He asked for recommendations on where to get good Chinese food. We asked how our classes are going. That kind of thing.
I wanted to ask to see him again but really couldn’t.
Brady senses my hesitance and comes to my rescue. “That’s Levi Vanderbilt. We went to high school together back in Chicago.”
“He’s in the law program,” I add. Because my immediate reaction is to somehow save his cover story for being here even though no one asked for that information.
Levi gives me a smile and hands over a bottle of wine. “I knew I should’ve brought a plate of food instead, but I went against my gut instincts.”
“Your gut instincts were right. I’ll add it to the rest of our dinner.” I turn and put it with the bottles of vodka, rum, whiskey, and tequila.
“Jesus,” Levi says when he looks at the pile. “Do we have anything to line our stomachs first?”
“We have pie.” I grin.
“Oh, we’re so going to die.”
“What happened to you in your old age?” I ask. “Oh, is it the Hahvid effect? It removes the partying part of your brain and replaces it with old-white-guy syndrome.”
Levi playfully slaps me. “Quit it with that Harvard shit.”
“Don’t you remember all those epic parties back in high school?” I ask. “Sure, we never actually hung out at them, but you would drink like a fish.”
“Exactly. I think my body rebels whenever it remembers.”
I lick my lips because now my body is remembering what else his body can do.