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)
No, she wouldn’t mean me.
We’ve never met before, and I’ve only gotten a few glances of her, mostly coming and going from their house and not when she was sleeping with Charlie because girls don’t last long. None of my roommates have ever dated anyone steadily or seriously that I can remember, so the simple act of memorizing a girl’s name that has come through the house and getting to know?
Waste.
Of.
Time.
Lizzy’s roommates seem to be studying me from head to toe, although they’re doing a damn good job trying to act as if they aren’t. They both seem relaxed, if not excited to have me in the house.
“How’s Charlie doing?” Jill asks. “Contracted any STDs lately?”
“Jill!” Lizzy laughs. “You can’t say things like that!”
“Why not? I’m lucky I didn’t end up with one. God, what an idiot I was for sleeping with that guy when he was screwing half of campus.”
I mean. She’s not wrong, but I’m not stupid enough to say it out loud.
“Charlie is fine,” I tell them, not sure how much to say. Not wanting to get skewered during my first ever official sleepover with a girl. “Should I tell him Jill says hi?”
“Hell no.” The three girls laugh. “We are good.”
“Noted.” I shuffle my feet uncomfortably—not that the girls are the ones making me uncomfortable. It’s just…all this attention is on me.
“Well,” Lizzy says at last. “We’re gonna chill. If you need anything, don’t come knocking.”
“Noted.” Bethany salutes us both.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LIZZY
“Psst.”
I hear a whisper from behind me and turn. Bethany appears from the dark, wrapped in a robe—sleep bonnet already in place—a hot cup of tea steaming in her right hand.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I gripe, glancing up at her from over my shoulder. “What are you doing down here?”
The agreement was that they were going to stay in their rooms and not mettle because that’s what Brodie’s roommates do, and it’s annoying as hell.
I promised him it would be chill over here.
“I came down to get this.” She shows me her mug. “And to lurk in case one of y’all came out of the bedroom.” My roommate gets closer. “How’s it going?”
“Good. We’re just hanging out.”
Her brows go up as they often do when she’s skeptical. “Is that a code word for something?”
“No.” I laugh. “In fact, we’re going to play Connect Four.”
I pull the game out of the cabinet and stand, clutching it to my chest like a prize.
“You’re going to play board games?”
“I thought it would be fun.”
Bethany grabs the tab from the string in her mug and bobs the tea bag back up and down.
“He seems like a nice guy.”
Is that her polite way of saying she doesn’t find Brodie attractive? This is fine with me ’cause I don’t need my roommates panting over a guy I’m interested in.
“He is a nice guy.” Nice but not too nice, whatever that means.
“Not at all what I was picturing,” she goes on to say, still bobbing the tea bag back up and down in the water to steep it.
“What were you picturing?”
“I don’t know. Someone not as big?”
I don’t know what to say to that other than, “Aren’t most hockey players like, huge?”
“I guess,” Bethany allows. “Guess I don’t pay that much attention.”
No, she wouldn’t. Jon, her boyfriend, is more of the fratty type. The kind of frat guy who’s in the econ club, who wears polo shirts and sweaters draped over his shoulders like an East Coast douche.
Which is all fine and good if that’s your type.
But it’s not mine, though I’ll admit, it may have been in the past.
I’m a new me as of forty-eight hours ago.
“Have you fooled around at all?”
I laugh quietly, not wanting to kiss and tell but also wanting to give Brodie props for a job well done.
I nod. “He went down on me.”
“He did? When?” Bethany holds her breath. “How was it?”
“At his house. Oh my god, Bethany, I literally saw stars.” I’m whispering so he can’t hear me from the bedroom.
“Shut the fuck up.” She takes a sip of her tea. “Did you come?”
Duh. “Uh, yeah. He was really freaking good at it—like, give that guy a medal good at it.”
“Shit. I’m so jealous.” She breathes out a sigh. “Bless Jon’s little heart, but he couldn’t make me come if he spent an hour down there tryin’. Not that he tries all that often.” She hmphs. “Still expects me to suck his dick, though.”
“Go on strike.”
“Maybe I should.” She laughs. “Anyway. Go have your fun playing your game. And try to keep the noise to a minimum,” she teases.
“I’ll do my best.”
Brodie waits for me when I get back, flipping through the channels on the television. He’s already in his plaid pajama bottoms and a tee, bare feet propped up on a pillow as he reclines against the headboard.