Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“She doesn’t need a pep talk.”
“Who said she did? I’m the one about to take a fifty-question exam. Feel bad for me, Parker, ‘cause your sister won’t.”
Parker rolls his eyes, but a smile pulls at his lips as he passes Deaton back to me and walks out.
I drop my phone into the baby shower caddy, heading into the bathroom.
“He’s gone.”
“Good. Let’s start over.” Mason pauses. “Good morning, Pretty Little.”
I shake my head with a smile, turning on the water. “Good morning, Superstar. Test today, huh?”
“Yep. It’s going to be a rough one, and then Coach asked to see me, which is weird since it’s February, and we only really see each other during weight training.”
“Maybe it’s about next season?”
“Maybe. Guess we’ll see. Now, you know what to do.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see, but then I give him what he wants. I test the temperature, then situate Deaton in his bath, clicking the button to swap to FaceTime, something we’ve done every day since the gang went back to campus for their spring semester.
His face pops up on the screen, and something knocks in my chest, my cheeks warming at the unexpected sight, but I say nothing as his view isn’t of me. He smiles wide at Deaton and starts talking as if they’re having a full conversation.
As if Deaton has any idea what’s going on at all.
Mason jokes with him about his morning workout, and when Deaton flaps his arms in the water, Mason’s smile grows wide.
“Dang, my man, look at the guns on you.” He chuckles, and a low laugh leaves me.
“He’s getting chubby, isn’t he?” I tickle his belly.
“Nah, he’s getting strong. Tell her, Little D.”
Deaton splashes some more, and for a moment, I wonder if he does know he’s being spoken to.
Mason smiles, and when he looks directly into the screen, as if he’s looking right at me, my cheeks burn for some reason.
I swallow. “Why are you shirtless?”
The smirk that tugs at his lips is deadly, and I almost roll my eyes again, but something forces them to stay locked on the screen.
Man, he’s…ripped.
I clear my throat.
“Had to get an early morning session in. My meeting with Coach is at my normal training time, so here I am.” A whistle blows in the background, and his head jerks left, hand lifting to cover his eyes.
“Johnson, the fuck you doing?”
Mason grins, looking back at the screen. “Oops. I’m caught. Let me see you before I go.”
I shake my head even though he can’t see. “Get back to it, Johnson.”
He laughs. “Yes, ma’am.” Mason looks at the screen a moment longer, then nods. “All right. We’re on for our call tonight? I…uh…” He looks nervous all of a sudden, his gaze straying from the screen, and I bite my nail in response.
Mason swallows, a serious expression now on his face. “I have something to tell you. It’s… I want to look at you when I tell you, though, okay? So tonight, FaceTime, me and you?”
My pulse patters beneath my skin, and I shift anxiously. Trying to tamp down my suddenly rising anxiousness, I tease, “Don’t you have better things to do at college than sit on the phone with me on a Friday night?”
“Ha!” Mason tosses his head back obnoxiously, his smile far too cocky. “Cute. That’s cute.” But that cockiness falls away in an instant, and what’s left is a timid grin that has my blood pressure rising. “Tonight, gorgeous girl.”
He hangs up, and I stare at the blank screen longer than I should.
Mason
“I don’t know about this, Coach. I mean, I know I look good, but are you sure I can’t get in trouble for this kind of thing? Feeling a lot like undercover Playboy but, you know, the one for girls.”
Coach just chuckles, tossing me a second bottle of some shit that’s suspiciously close to lube if you ask me. “Enjoy it, son. Any minute now and a pretty little thing is going to walk through that door. If you ask real nice, maybe she’ll help rub it on your back.”
I scoff. “Yeah, you say that until a dude with big beefy hands and a monster’s build walks in.”
“I’ve never heard them described as beefy, but I guess I don’t hate it.”
My muscles freeze, and oh so fucking slowly, my head turns, attention pointing over my shoulder.
Like in my damn dreams, there she is, standing in my gym and smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
My eyes trail over her, locking on to the fact that she’s wearing my old high school football shirt, the chest stretched mouthwateringly tight over breasts, now even fuller than before. She shifts on her feet, and I notice the camera bag hanging from her shoulder.
My smirk is slow, and I spin to fully face her. “Are you shittin’ me? Am I being punked? Hallucinating? I gotta be imagining this, right? Ain’t no way you’re here right now.”