Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“I’ll answer all your questions.” I hear the rustle of covers from his side of the phone. “One, you can’t just call anyone. You need to be friends with them.”
“I’m private.” I climb onto my big king-size bed. I splurged big-time when it came to my sleep. I sink into the down comforter that feels like seven comforters in one. “And we aren’t friends.”
He laughs, and it sends shock waves through my body, landing straight in my vagina. “We became friends last night,” he says, and I close my eyes, vowing to never drink again, “sort of.”
“What do you mean sort of?” I should just end this conversation and be done with it, but instead, I prolong it, telling myself not to be rude.
“Well, I kind of took your phone to hold on to when you went to do some dance move or something.” I lean my head back. “And I added myself.”
“Wow,” I reply, shocked, “so why are you calling me on Instagram instead of my phone?”
“I don’t have your number,” he admits, and now I’m the one howling with laughter.
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to send you a text message from my phone instead of adding me on Instagram?”
“Whoa,” he says, and I can hear him walking, “that’s an invasion of your privacy. If you’re going to give me your number, then I’ll use it.” I hear the fridge door close. “This was the best option.”
“I don’t even think I can argue any point on that logic,” I admit.
“Good,” he responds, drinking something, “so are you going to give me your number?”
“No.” I bite my lip, trying not to smile.
“You’re going to go out with me?” He breathes out a deep breath, something that normally irritates me, but with him I get these little flutters, which now irritate me.
“No.” I don’t even give myself a moment to think about it.
“Okay, good.” I can hear his smirk through the phone, and now my stomach flutters have moved down south. “It’s a we’ll see.” I shake my head at his persistence. “I’ll call you tomorrow, then.” He doesn’t even wait for me to reply before he hangs up.
I look at the phone, and it says call ended. I think about calling him back, but instead, I put my phone down. “He’ll get bored soon enough,” I tell myself. They always do when they realize my job comes before anyone. “Then it’ll be just another memory.”
CHAPTER FIVE
stone
“Move your ass, Richards!” my coach, Darryl, yells from the other side of the rink as I hustle down the middle of the ice. “Pick it up!” I hear his words, but my whole body fucking aches. To say I’m dragging ass is the understatement of the year.
Jay, my left winger, passes me the puck from the side, and the whistle blows as soon as it touches the blade of my stick. “Offside, Richards.” The coach points at my right foot that went over the blue line before I touched the puck.
I look down, seeing he’s not wrong. “Motherfucker,” I grumble. “Sorry, guys.” I skate back over to the start of the drill we’re doing this afternoon.
“Think you can not fuck this up?” James, my right winger, goads, but he’s hiding a smirk. “I think I’m going to die out there,” he huffs and puffs.
“You?” Jay says. “I spent five days on a beach drinking beer like it was water.” He breathes out like a bull. “How does five days on a beach get you so out of shape?”
“I spent half the time on the ice, and I’m out of shape,” I remind them. “It’s the age.”
“Fuck you,” they say at the same time. “Let’s fucking do this.” I get down on my haunches with my hockey stick in both hands, leaning on my legs, waiting for the puck to be dropped.
“If you fuck this up,” Jay declares, “you owe me five hundred dollars.”
“Times two.” James holds up his gloved hand with two fingers.
“I don’t even know what you are betting,” Gally, the second line centerman, adds on. He’s in the same stance as me, but during practice, we face off against each other. “But if I have to do this again, I’m going to kick your ass, and you’ll owe me, too.”
I shake my head and focus on the puck in assistant coach Robby’s hand. He spreads his feet to the sides, holding the puck out in the middle. I see it fall and swing into action, slapping it away from Gally and to Jay, just like the diagram the coach showed us twenty minutes ago. Part one of the play done, I skate around Gally, who I’m not sure lets me get around him or if I’m suddenly faster than I was before.
Jay passes the puck back to Benny, the defenseman, who then whips it back to Jay. I push toward the blue line, timing it, knowing Jay will send it back to me. The puck touches my blade at the right before I hustle into the zone and send it to James, who makes it past the defensive players in the zone just like the diagram shows.