Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“That’s not a real name!”
“Neither is Charisma.”
“What’s his family name?”
“Townsend. He’s one of the football players. Remember when we sat around and watched the Waylon game? He made some big plays.”
I hear rustling and water running. She’s probably washing morning dishes. “You went down to that awful place, and now you’re going to be stuck down there. When will I see the grandkids?”
I bend over and stifle my groan. I love her, but…
“No grandkids anytime soon. Seriously, Ma, ease up.”
There’s a long silence.
“You’ve never had a boyfriend,” she says quietly.
“I know.” I chew on my lip, debating telling her why I’ve kept my heart protected for so long, but I can’t. I never told her about Trevor because I knew my brothers would likely kill him, and I only broached the topic of Pop’s cheating once when I was seventeen. It killed me to hear her angry words, telling me to mind my own business, saying I didn’t get what real love is.
She clears her throat. “You just come home and we’ll see if it lasts. No one gets you like people up here.”
Blaze does get me. He looks at me as if he never wants to take his eyes off me. I move and he moves in turn, making me the center of his world.
He hasn’t told you how he feels, a small voice reminds me.
“Are you having sex? Please, Charm, just use protection. Don’t get the VD that goes around those colleges. Is he going to Nashville with you this summer?”
OMG.
I called her last week and told her they offered me an entry-level paid position with the option to hire me full-time in a year. It’s not Boston, but I can get behind a city like Nashville.
I clench the phone. “I’m not talking to you about sex, and I don’t know where he’ll be this summer. Depends on the draft. How’s Pop and the boys?” I ask, changing the topic.
She fills me in on the usual, and there’s more rustling and then whispering as she talks to Mattie. He must not have left yet for his law school classes at NYU.
I hear him ask for the phone.
“Hey, sis! Joey P is the man!”
“Mattie. She told you,” I murmur.
He chuckles. “Oh, yeah, she did. She’s fuming about some guy you’re seeing. What’s wrong with Joey? He got his teeth fixed and everything.”
FML. I roll my eyes. My family is insane.
“I mean, one tooth is still jacked, but he’s cool,” he adds. I hear the creak of the back door, and I imagine he’s going out to the screened-in porch to get some space from Ma.
“This has nothing to do with Joey P or his teeth. She’s freaked out because I said boyfriend and she hasn’t met him.”
He laughs again. “So who’s this guy banging my little sister?”
“Shut up. You’re going to love him—wide receiver for the team, funny, nice, and just…” I pause, caught up in thoughts of him. I sigh.
“You in love, sis?”
“Not telling you shit. You’ll just repeat it.”
He laughs. “You got that right. She knows how to beat it out of me. Don’t worry, I can’t wait to meet him. Great team. I’m going to look him up online, get some questions ready for when he gets his ass up here to meet us.”
Yeah…
I want to do that—I do—but I’m nervous. Blaze doesn’t talk about the future for us, plus the Combine is right before spring break and he’ll be out of town. We should discuss it soon, but not now.
I get off the phone with Mattie and walk into class.
Dr. Cartwright is already lecturing, and I hurry over.
Blaze is grinning at me as I slide in next to him, and my heart skips a beat when he rests his hand on my desk. His pinkie brushes mine. “Bout time you got here. Was about to get worried.”
DING!
What are we doing tonight? I write and show it to Blaze.
Your place? I can cook this time.
You can cook? Nice.
Lasagna?
Really? That’s awesome. Is this because my last name is Rossi? What do you put in yours?
I just take it out of the box and put it in the oven. Presto.
I put my head down to hide my grin. Ma is going to die.
He’s still writing.
First you tie me to the bed and have your way with me. Haven’t checked that off the list yet. Then we eat. Then TV. Or do you want to go somewhere?
My shoulders shake. I picture him in my room, tied to my bedpost with scarves, then I’m picturing me in a black dominatrix suit with tall, black, high-heeled boots, and it kind of works. I’m about to write that down and tell him when—
“Mr. Townsend, can you tell us your last entry please? There seems to be a lull today with the spring weather, and I always enjoy your comments.”