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)
Brodie hands me my belongings, and I thank him, cradling my book in my arms and shrugging on my bookbag.
“Thanks,” I say again, gaze straying to the book in his hand. “What book are you reading?”
I hadn’t seen any books in his bedroom, but perhaps he keeps them out of sight, the same way I keep mine in a storage bin under my bed.
Brodie flips it over so I can read the cover. “The Mindset of a Champion—Mental Toughness in Sports.”
“It’s non-fiction,” he explains, though he doesn’t have to. “What’s yours?”
I lift the banana off my book so he can look at the cover. “It’s a sports romance.”
He nods, and I’m not quite sure he knows what a sports romance is, but he doesn’t ask, and I don’t clarify.
“Is it good?”
“So far.” I shrug. “You on your way back from class?”
Again, he nods. “Yeah. But I have another one in an hour. I forgot some of my notes, so I had to come home quick.”
Normally, this would be the perfect opportunity for me to say ‘you should run inside and grab your notes and then walk me to class.’ Except something holds me back. Mostly because even though Brodie and I are friends, I don’t want to feel like I’m forcing myself on him.
“Well, I guess I should get going then,” I finally say, waffling rather than moving my feet, actually kicking at a rock on the pavement the same way I would do if I was living out my own, personal romantic comedy.
Brodie nods. “Kay.”
I walk a few feet, giving him a tiny little wave when I notice him watching me.
“Bye.”
He lifts his arm and waves back.
When I turn toward campus, the smile on my face spreads and I secret it away, hugging my books to my chest to keep myself from breaking into a run.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BRODIE
Brodie: How were classes today?
How were classes today? Jesus, I sound lame.
I delete the text, unsure.
Is it cool to randomly text Lizzy for no reason? No reason at all?
People do it all the time, yeah?
Besides, she and I have been talking for a while—all I’m doing is checking in. That’s what friends do.
No big deal.
“What are you doing?” Reed—one of my other roommates—walks into the kitchen and goes straight to the refrigerator.
“No idea.”
Once he’s done digging, he takes an entire rotisserie chicken from the top rack and sets it on the counter. He leans his hip against the counter and crosses his arms, watching me.
“Dude, are you alright?” He studies me with his head tilted to the side.
I breathe out, cell in the palm of my hand like a limp dick. “I have no idea.”
“Do you need advice about something?”
I give my head a stiff shake. “Probably.”
Reed laughs. “Are you trying to text someone? You look traumatized.”
“I would text someone, then I felt like an idiotic fuck, texting about nothing.”
“Why does it have to be about something?”
Why is he being so reasonable?
“Because. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”
He nods sagely. “Ahh. This is a girl problem.” He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Is it the girl who was here the other night cause she had rats at her house?”
“It was one squirrel, not a bunch of rats, but yeah—it’s her.”
I tell him about our trip to the hardware store, how she bought paint, and how it’s weird that she put Sully in the friend zone.
“Why do you need a reason to say hey what’s up?” Reed turns to the counter and pops the lid on the chicken, picking at the meat and taking a bite out of the chuck between his fingers. “Be like, hey, how was class today? Or some shit like that.”
That’s exactly what I would ask her, but hearing him say it makes it sound more lame than me saying it.
“I want something better.”
He chews, then swallows. “Have you texted her before or is this the first time?”
“We were texting last night.”
“’Bout what?”
I laugh. “The size of my dick.”
I swear, my roommate’s eyes damn near bug out of his skull. The expression on his face is one of complete shock. If any other one of our roommates had said it, he wouldn’t have batted an eye—but this is me, and I never tell anyone my business.
“Shut the fuck up.”
I laugh again, pulling up the messages between Lizzy and I, holding the phone out so he can scan them and get himself up to speed.
Reed reads them out loud.
Lizzy: So what are you up to right now?
Brodie: Walking home from practice.
Lizzy: WALKING home? Isn’t it far?
Brodie: I could use the exercise lol
Lizzy: Okay but it’s almost dark out.
Brodie: I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”
Reed glances up, eyes still wide. “I can’t believe you said that!”
He looks impressed and reads on.
Lizzy: Are you sure?
Brodie: That I’m a big boy?