Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
His pain lashed at me.
I stood there stoic. I’m sure I said something, but I can barely recall my responses. Guilt coursed through me.
Everything is my fault. I started their relationship; I helped end it.
I’ve been a shit brother to him.
I went to her apartment the night of her birthday and I’ve been telling myself it was for the class, to return her book, but it wasn’t, it wasn’t. I walked into her place with need in my heart. I knew he’d forgotten her birthday and was at the library. I knew she’d be hurt by it, and maybe, just maybe it was a way in. Hell, I’ve known where she lives for months. I’ve driven by her place a hundred times. I watched her dance on her birthday with images of her riding my cock playing in my mind.
It gets worse.
I hang out at the bar where she works. On purpose. She walks by and my eyes follow. She laughs and I commit it to memory. She frowns and I want to know what the hell is wrong.
I ride the elevator with her, and my hands fight to hold her.
I’ve touched her, before they were over, little brushes before class that made her gasp. That was wrong. Fucking wrong.
I knew what I was doing. I manipulated her, knowing there was something there between us, a delicate string. I dipped my toe across the line and tested the boundary, part of me excited, the other side terrified she’d jump across to grab me.
He was getting trashed on tequila, and I told him to dump her. Anastasia will never make you happy.
My eyes shut. I lied to push him over a cliff and then he went and did it all wrong!
Deep down, she would make him happy. Sure, he’d be sad about Harvard, but he loves her. That kiss with Harper? It bothered him. I saw his face when he turned away from her that night at the Delta house—and he told Anastasia the truth about it. He admitted to it. Dude is in love with her, but I tinkered with it, playing on his insecurities about his future and his parents, shoving Harper at him, encouraging him to tap that. Don’t you want to see if something’s there, man? I told him. She’s perfect for you. She’s hot. (She’s not.) You have so much in common. Your family loves her.
Jesus. I don’t know if he fucked her, but…
I. Fucked. With. Them.
I run faster.
When she kisses me, the world disappears.
Yeah?
When I kiss her, the world explodes.
As I round the turn to finish my last lap, I see Crew and Hollis talking to Benji at the bench. I jog their way and snap up a towel to rub the sweat off my face.
“You’re running like someone’s chasing you,” Hollis murmurs, giving me a long look. Not surprised. I came home from the library last night, ignoring Donovan’s texts, and went straight to my room. Then this morning, I didn’t knock on their doors to see their faces. I got up, got dressed, and left.
I slap the towel down. “The question isn’t why am I running so hard, it’s why your lazy ass isn’t.”
Hollis stretches his arms out wide. “There ain’t no lazy on me, boo bear. I’m below ten percent body fat like always.”
“Showoff.” Benji looks down at his body, then at the three of us. “I don’t know why I work out with you guys. I go to the student center gym and I’m a god—here I’m a peasant.”
“You remind us of what we could become if we stopped playing sports. You’re the cautionary tale,” Crew says with a smirk.
We head inside to the weight room.
“What up, River?” asks Chris, a sophomore wide receiver. He’s gifted, but most of his freshman year, he acted like a scared puppy on the field. The transition from high school to college is tough.
I wave and walk over to him.
“There he goes,” I hear Benji murmur as I leave our group. “Talking to his fan club.”
“Why do people adore him?” Hollis says. “He’s a terrible roommate. Messy. Needy. Thinks he’s prettier than me.”
“I can hear you, and I am.” I flip him off behind my back.
“You playing with us next fall or getting paid in the NFL?” Chris asks with a grin as I reach him. He’s about six one with dark skin and hands the size of dinner plates.
“Lots of factors in play. I promise, you’ll be the last to know.” I chuckle.
“Once you’re gone, I’m gonna make all those fans forget you were ever here.”
“Not with skinny little arms like that you won’t,” I say, flexing my bicep and comparing it to his.
“Yo, that’s why I’m here. I gotta get in that River shape. Be Tate 2.0.”
We bump both elbows, a thing I started with the wide receivers after any of us scored a touchdown.