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)
Clothes. Everywhere.
Stuff and lots of it.
I rarely come up here and now I have no reason to.
Never have to, the pair of them are usually downstairs or in my room, sitting on the edge of my bed when they want to gossip.
“Lizzy?”
Brodie.
He said he would check on me if I wasn’t back within ten minutes, and he is.
“Up here.”
He appears in the doorway, watching as I take this and that, adding to the pile in my arms.
“Hey.”
CHAPTER SIX
BRODIE
Lizzy hasn’t removed her robe yet or changed—thank god—and appears to be stockpiling for the apocalypse with a stack of clothes in her arms that practically bury her.
She’s standing in front of her roommate’s closet, and I watch from the doorway as she deliberates.
When she turns toward me and sets the pile on the bed, I take notice of it all.
Her smooth legs and silky hair.
Her collarbone. The gold necklace dangling at her pulse point.
And her tits.
Those tits pressed against the robe, forever straining to break free.
I avert my eyes and stare up at the ceiling.
I remove them from the ceiling when Lizzy moves, grabbing a blanket from her roommate’s bed and adding it to her pile.
“I think I’m ready. If it’s cool, I’ll just change at your place. I don’t even want to take off my clothes here.”
Lizzy shivers as if she were cold.
I nod. “Kay.” Then. “Need help with any of that?” I eyeball the growing pile in her arms, offering to take it off her hands ’cause sometimes I’m a gentleman.
She shakes her head. “Naw. I’m good—let me grab a duffel bag.” She pauses. “Oh. And my skin care stuff.”
“You can use mine if you want,” I blurt out.
Lizzy’s eyes go wide as she jams all her crap into a bag she rooted out of the back of her roommate’s closet.
“You have a skin care routine?”
Why the hell did I admit that I use moisturizer?
“I mean. My mom bought it for me for my birthday, and I didn’t want her to feel bad.”
Which is kind of true? Three years ago, I got the set for my birthday. At first, I thought it was weird and that only chicks used skin care—but my skin takes a beating when I’m outside and on the ice and shit. Why not? And now skin care is part of my routine, and I have my ma ship it to me when I run out.
I have this beard on my face covering most of the skin, so…
Lizzy seems to approve. “Well, just in case it’s something that might irritate my skin, I’ll grab a toner and moisturizer. Just in case.” She winks at me as she exits the room, and I watch, transfixed, before remembering myself enough to grab her bag.
I heft it over my shoulder, and she starts when she finds me outside the bathroom with her things.
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Let’s, uh—get you back to my place. It’s getting dark out.” And my stomach is rumbling again, so I’ll definitely need something more to eat. Always do. Have to consume a lot of calories to keep up the energy levels and to make up for what we burn in a game.
Lizzy shuts the lights off one by one as we pass the switches, and before long, the house is dark when she locks up, giving the side door a healthy jiggle to make sure it’s secure before we cross the yard.
We stomp up the porch steps and push through my front door.
The house is silent, no one to be found, thank fucking god. The last thing I need with Lizzy here is an embarrassing round of questioning because I never bring people home, or worse—those assholes making her feel uncomfortable by being rude. ’Cause they are.
Rude, that is.
Oversexed. Full of piss and vinegar.
Blunt.
Man children.
“Is anyone home?”
“Yeah but he won’t come out of his room.”
I lead her up the stairs to my second-floor bedroom, praying like hell it’s miraculously tidier than it was a few hours ago ’cause I’m an idiot and didn’t think to check before inviting her to stay over.
Cracking my door open, I hesitantly give it a gentle shove—as if I were waiting for a fucking squirrel to jump out at me the same way I was waiting for one at her house.
“The coast is clear,” I announce, breathing a sigh of relief when I flip on the light.
Bed made, mostly.
A few clothes on the floor but no underwear.
Laptop open on the desk.
Empty cup but no empty plates.
Garbage can is full but not disgusting.
Cool.
“Home sweet home.” I drop her bag next to the sofa in my room, kicking a pair of sneakers under the bed and out of sight, then turn to watch as she surveys the space where I live.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LIZZY
“So this is what the inside of a dude’s bedroom looks like.”
He gives me an odd look before rolling his eyes. “Like you haven’t seen the inside of a dude’s bedroom before.”