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)
“I’m just sayin. If you’ve developed some sort of crush on him you might be wasting your time.”
Have I developed some sort of crush on him? Overnight?
Maybe.
“I was just asking innocent questions, that’s all. I was curious.” Both statements are partly true.
Sully laughs, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
“It’s true.” I’m lying through my teeth.
Sully is nice and all, but he’s not making me wet downtown, and I doubt he would, even if he had his hands between my legs. Now I have a visual of hands between my legs, and it’s one with a sullen frown and a beard.
Ugh.
Sully laughs, a deep, sexy laugh and were I anyone else, the sound of it would send warm flutters through my chest.
“I should be jealous or something, shouldn’t I?” he wonders.
“Jealous of what?” I’m still feigning ignorance as he pretends to know what’s going through my mind.
His eye roll is almost as aggressive as one of mine. “You’re sitting here going on-and-on about my roommate—my teammate—while you’re on a date with me and you’re asking what I’m jealous of?” He’s grinning though and still relaxed on his side of the booth.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. This would be a first, and honestly.” He places a hand on his chest, over his heart. “Very humbling. Can’t wait to tell the guys about it.”
I nibble on my bottom lip.
“Um. Before you said you were going to give me advice?” I can’t help reminding him of his earlier statement, and he leans forward—conspiratorially—so I can hang on his every word.
“The only way you’ll get a dude like Brodie is to make the first move. And even then, that’s no guarantee.” He holds his hands up as if in surrender. “Not that I’m saying you want to make a move, but if you did…it would be on you. You’d literally have to march naked through his bedroom with a sign on your body that said DO ME to get him to notice.”
He stops talking and takes a drink of his beer. “I know that look.”
“What look?”
He wiggles a finger in my direction. “That look. The one that says ‘challenge accepted’ without actually saying ‘challenge accepted.’”
CHAPTER TWELVE
BRODIE
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The clock on my wall counts the time, the house is so quiet I can hear the second hand swishing its way around the clockface in rhythmic time.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Lamp light on. Laptop open.
A movie plays in the background.
I have a pencil in my hand, but it hasn’t written anything in over twenty minutes. My eyes are absentmindedly flickering to my cell as if I’m expecting a notification.
It never comes.
No surprise, I was just at the gym with a few of my teammates, and Sully is on his date—
The door bursts open.
Hits the wall behind it and bounces slowly until it stops, my roommate huffing and puffing as if he’s just run a mile, up the sidewalk, flew into the house, and up the stairs.
"Dude.” He breathes in and out. “You will not believe what just happened on my date.”
“What happened on your date?” I resist the urge to roll my eyes, the little green monster of jealousy strolling his way through my gut, threatening to rear his ugly head.
He begins pacing back and forth in my small bedroom—dramatically—running a hand through his hair in agitation. This is not new behavior for Sully. He’s been prone to theatrics in the past. In fact, if there was a tally of players who try to start fights on the ice, he’d be in the top three.
"I just got back from my date with Lizzy.” The Master of the Obvious tells me, as if I wasn’t already painfully aware he’s been out with her. And if I said I wasn’t listening for the front door to slam closed, I’d be lying.
“And?”
I seriously do not want any details.
I don’t want to hear how sexy she looked or how funny she is, or how she smelled like flowers. The only thing I’d want to hear is how he burped or farted in front of her and disgusted her—
“Dude,” he says again because he loves the word dude. “The only thing she wanted to do was ask questions about you."
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and I stop the swivel of my desk chair.
“No, she didn’t.”
He’s being an asshole.
“Why would I lie?”
“Uh, because you’re an asshole?”
He laughs. “Bro. You can’t make this shit up.”
I eye him skeptically because this in fact is the dumb shit he would make up—just to get a reaction out of me. I love my roommates, but they’re dumb fuckers sometimes, and hazing or pranks aren’t uncommon, even among those of us living together.
“Whatever you say, man.” I tamper the beating of my chest.
“I shit you not,” he blathers on, oblivious to the fact that I don’t want to talk about Lizzy. Or his date. Or his date with Lizzy.