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)
Lizzy: Awwww. That’s adorable.
Brodie: Thanks?
Lizzy: **blows kiss**
Brodie: So, you’re coloring?
Lizzy: If by coloring you mean, decorating my planner than yes, I’m coloring.
Brodie: Ah.
Lizzy: Why?
Brodie: Have you eaten yet?
Lizzy: As a matter of fact, not yet. Are you in the mood for something specific???
Brodie: Pizza? Or noodles, idk
Lizzy: Both sound delicious. I could eat pizza every night of the week and actually—I often do LOL
Brodie: Well if you already had pizza I don’t want to do that again.
Lizzy: Whatever YOU want is fine—you’re the one who was just working. All I had to do was clap and scream my lungs out. Which by the way, I’m definitely losing my voice.
Brodie: You uh—want to come over than and eat?
Lizzy: Sure, I can eat.
Lizzy: Come to think of it, weren’t you eating noodles out of the container the other night when I came running over?
Brodie: You were running? I hadn’t noticed…
Lizzy: Ha ha, you’re funny…running is what I do best.
Brodie: So you can run. But do you skate?
Lizzy: Ice skate? Kind of?
Brodie: Okay, I’m not sure what that means.
Lizzy: It means yes—but I’m so bad at it.
Lizzy: WHY ARE YOU ASKING? Are you planning on taking me skating? Cause that sounds hideous.
Brodie: I feel like you’d stab me with a fork if I took you skating after you just told me you’re bad at it.
Lizzy: I’m sure I probably would but that would just be me flirting.
Brodie: Wow. You’re almost as awkward as I am.
Lizzy: You consider yourself awkward??
Brodie: Uh, yes? You don’t consider me awkward?
Lizzy: That’s the word I’d use.
Brodie: What would WOULD you use?
Lizzy: I thought we talked about this when we were playing naked Connect Four, a game neither of us got naked during.
Brodie: I don’t remember how you described me.
Lizzy: Quiet and strong.
Brodie: Like, the strong and silent type?
Lizzy: Yes, exactly. You don’t feel the need to be loud and obnoxious—and if you consider that as being awkward, then I guess I’d take one over the other.
Lizzy: This got real serious LOL. Two seconds ago we were talking about what to eat and skating.
Brodie: You’re right. I’ll figure out food, you figure out what we’re watching.
Lizzy: It’s a date.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
BRODIE
I'm pacing the floor like a caged tiger on espresso.
Lizzy's supposed to be here any minute, and I'm a cocktail of nerves and excitement. It's like waiting for the results of a pop quiz you didn't study for, except the subject is romance, and failing is not an option.
I am going to fuck this up, I can feel it.
I keep glancing at my watch, willing time to move faster.
Seriously, why does it feel like time is dragging its feet when you're waiting for something as monumental as Lizzy's arrival? I should have set up a countdown clock with fireworks or hired a skywriter to announce her impending visit. That would've been subtle.
My mind races with all the scenarios. What if she changes her mind and decides she's better off knitting sweaters for that blasted squirrel in her wall? Or blow drying her hair? I shake my head, trying to dispel the absurdity of my thoughts.
She's coming because she wants to.
Right?
Not because she wants to be friends.
We dispelled with that theory the second she invited me to play naked games to pass the time, practically begging me to remove my shirt.
I glance around my bedroom, feeling a sense…something.
This visit feels different and it’s not just because I have adrenaline from my game coursing through my veins.
My roommates aren’t home; they headed to the bar to celebrate though I suspect they won’t be out late.
We still have practice tomorrow and that team meeting, so best not to be hungover, yeah?
Tilting my head, I debate: should I light a few candles? Or would that come off as being a try hard—or will it just come off as being a fire hazard?
Note to self: Google "romantic gestures to set the mood for dummies.”
I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart.
I push the doubts out of my mind by doing some last-minute tidying up. A whirlwind of socks and magazines are still scattered, and I pull the covers up on the bed, giving the pillows a hard thwak.
I find myself standing in front of the mirror, straightening my shirt for the umpteenth time. Do I look presentable enough? Should I have worn something less…sweatshirty? Is my hair doing that weird thing where it sticks up in the back?
Fuck. How do girls see the back of their heads when they’re doing their hair?
I give my head a quick pat-down.
Get down on my floor and start doing push-ups, cause nothing dials down the anxiety like an adrenaline rush although Lizzy is the best kind of dopamine.
In a few short minutes I won’t have to—
Suddenly, there's a knock at the door.
My heart skips ten beats before leaping into my throat.