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)
“Good place for a first date.” He winks at me.
First date, last date.
Same thing.
Ha!
“Do you and your roommates go out together a lot?” I take a napkin and hand it to him so he can wipe the sauce from the corner of his mouth. “To bars and stuff?”
He takes it but doesn’t.
“Not really. I mean, yeah—Charlie, Tyler, Paul, and I do, but Brodie? Eh. He doesn’t drink a lot.”
“What does he do when you go out without him?”
His shoulders lift up and down. “Don’know. Chills? He couldn’t care less.”
“Care less? Like how?”
“He's a talented hockey player—aggressive on the ice and shit like we’re supposed to be. He’ll have you flat on your ass before you know what hit you, know what I mean? But he's also pretty shy. Doesn't really come out of his shell much."
Pretty shy. Doesn't really come out of his shell much…
I nod. “Yeah, I gathered. He didn’t say much last night unless I asked him a pointed question.”
Like an idiot, I soak in every word Sully says about his roommate, imagining the picture Sully paints of Brodie—who’s a stark contrast to the outgoing, charismatic personalities I’m used to. My best friends and roommates are so freaking loud. Extroverts. Not shy at all…
So, the idea of this quiet, introverted guy…one who is content to stay hidden away from the world, who would rather listen to his classic rock and do homework?
It’s a strangely romantic idea, and suddenly, I imagine that when it rains and pours outside, he gazes out his window, perhaps gazing into my yard…
Sigh.
"Is he always like that?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.
“Always like what?” He stops chewing.
“You know—introverted?”
Sully shrugs, his expression thoughtful. "Sure, I guess.” The look he gives me says, “why do you keep asking me this shit,” but bless his heart, he answers anyway. “He's not one for big social gatherings or anything like that, if that’s what you’re asking. He prefers to keep to himself, you know?"
"Sounds... intriguing," I murmur, my mind already drifting toward the possibilities.
"Why so many questions about him? You interested?" He pushes out a laugh, setting the chicken bones in the bowl our server has placed in the center of the table, along with some Wet Wipes.
I shake my head nonchalantly, trying to play it cool. "Pfft, no. Curious, I guess. We’ve lived next door to each other for almost a semester and just met yesterday. Then we spent the whole night together, and I still didn’t find out much, you know?” I pause.
“You’ve also lived next door to me for almost an entire semester, eh?”
True.
I pick at another mozzarella stick, dip it in the marinara sauce, and then the ranch, raising a brow at my date to make sure he’s cool with my contaminating the two dips.
“Is he single? Off the market?” Plop, plop. “What’s his deal."
“His deal.” Sully leans back in his chair, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, good question. Can’t remember the last time he went out with anyone, but you never know with Brodie. He's always been a bit elusive when it comes to his sex life. A mystery wrapped in a riddle."
A mystery wrapped in a riddle…
“I wasn’t asking about his sex life. I was asking about his…”
Actually, what was I asking about? His single status?
I realize now how weird and nosy I sound, prying and poking about such personal questions about one guy while I’m on a date with someone else but I literally cannot stop myself.
The launch sequence has been activated.
I raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of my lips.
"So what I hear you saying is that after I left your house, he didn’t say anything about last night,” I finally say, filling the void because Sully has stopped talking and is focused on the appetizers—and his beer.
“What would he have said about last night?” He stops chewing to ask, “Did something happen?”
“No. We were sleeping.” And not in the same bed.
He leans back in his seat and crosses his arms, flexing his muscles as if he wants me to look down at them an stare.
“Do you like Brodie?”
“Like him? I don’t even know him.”
“Then what’s with the twenty questions?”
Shit.
I can’t decide if he’s jealous or annoyed or something else entirely; it’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize for being rude. And not in the moment. Because I am being rude and I’m not in the moment—but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in Brodie.
But then Sully does something surprising.
He relaxes.
Tilts his head to the side and offers me the last mozzarella stick—I shake my head to decline it so he bites off the end.
“Listen. Let me give you some advice.” Chew, chew.
Swallow.
“Brodie is complicated.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. It’s not like he’s anti-social or whatever. Or gay. I just don’t see him dating.”
I lean back, too, mimicking his pose. “What are you trying to say?”