Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Ignoring guys is how I flirt.
Brodie walks up his steps ahead of me, and my eyes go to his ass. His long legs.
His broad back.
He’s got on a tee shirt that pulls taut across his chest when he stretches his arms above his head to yawn; the tee hikes up, and my eyes stray to his stomach.
The abs.
His belly button.
The pleasure trail that disappears into the waistband of his gray sweatpants.
The outline of his dick.
The five o’clock shadow that threatens to turn into a beard.
For a brief second, I picture that stubble between my legs, chafing the sensitive skin there as he…
“Please, Brodie,” I repeat, voice throaty. “It’s one night.”
He clears his throat and shakes his head. “I would, but we’re in season, so we have a curfew tonight.”
“A curfew?” What kind of bullshit is that?
“We have a game coming up and can’t be out late, so someone from the coaching staff does a head count at ten, and I have to be home.”
“You’re not allowed to spend the night anywhere but at your place?”
He shrugs as if that answers the question.
“Oh.”
“But hey, you can stay with us.” He perks up. “If you don’t mind my roommates, they’ll be home.”
Yes, that’s right. He has roommates too, way more than I have.
“How many of you are there?”
“Four.”
FOUR?! I had no idea that many guys were living next door.
“Four plus you, or four dudes total?”
“Four plus me. Five of us live in this house.”
I nod. “And you don’t think it would be weird for me to spend the night?”
“Girls spend the night all the time. It’s just not—as cute or clean as your place.” He tilts his head. “I can sleep on the couch, and you can have my bed.”
Girls spend the night all the time…
His words linger in my brain.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind me spending the night? I don’t want to be a bother.” But I also don’t want to stay in my house alone, and he has no interest in crashing at my place.
He doesn’t look as enthused as I feel, but at least he’s smiling.
“Look, I’m freezing my nuts off. Can we go inside? Grab what you need, put some clothes on, and get your butt back to my house.”
I give him a mock salute, pleased I’m getting my way in the sense that I won’t be alone tonight, battling against the squirrels. I’ll be in a safe space with him.
“Are you coming in while I grab clothes?”
Brodie hesitates. “You do realize it can’t hurt you, right? It’s locked in your room.”
I stay rooted to the ground.
Push out my bottom lip, pouting, the wind whipping around the bottom of my robe, exposing my upper thighs in the most unmodest way, and if it were to whip a bit more, he’d get a glance at my vajayjay.
Not that I’d mind.
Brodie relents. “How about I do a proof of life if you haven’t shown up at my house in ten minutes?”
“Fine.”
Dejected, I head back to the house so I can grab a few things—what, I don’t know. Maybe some sweatpants and a hoodie from my roommates since theirs is the only rooms not infested. Allegedly. There is only one way to find out…
Crap.
Why didn’t I check their bedrooms before to make sure there were no animals in other places inside the house? And what are the odds that it is only my bedroom when I haven’t heard a peep from those rodents in the past several days? Why my room, why now?
Ugh.
I drag myself into the house, moping but also hesitant, unsure of what I’m going to find around any corner.
Danger lurks.
I can feel it.
I hasten to the second floor, tentatively cracking open the door to Bethany and Jill’s room. First I stick my head in, eyes scanning the perimeter before I walk all the way inside to make a beeline for the closet. They have dozens of hoodies and crewnecks hanging, and I pull one off the hanger without glancing at the front. Then, I pull open a drawer where Bethany keeps her bottoms.
Gray sweats.
Perfect.
I steal fuzzy socks. A white tank top.
Sleep shorts.
I take the towel off my head but don’t bother to blow-dry my hair, nabbing an elastic band from the spot where she does her hair and makeup every day.
“What else do I need?”
It’s not as if I’m going on a trip. I’m going next door.
To sleep.
For one night.
Hopefully, the landlord gets his shit together. I don’t want to do this any longer than I have to. I hate not being prepared, and spontaneity and I do not go hand in hand.
“What else, what else…?” I stand in the center of the bedroom, noticing for the first time what a slob my roommates are, thinking there is no way they would notice if they had mice or a squirrel burrowing in this room.