Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“Most of them.” Marissa had a gleam in her eye like she was holding back a joke.
I wanted to know more. Why didn’t she go to our games? Prescott said she hadn't been to any recently, but that didn't mean she'd never been. Prescott was a close friend of hers so it wouldn’t be far-fetched, and if I was being completely honest, I didn’t look up at the stands much. Drew started talking to Marissa before I could ask any questions.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Nash said, looking at Lyla. He smiled. She didn’t. “I’m Nash.”
“Lyla.”
Prescott leaned in to whisper something in her ear and set his hand over hers on the table. I was going to fuck him up tonight at practice. Maybe I’d jam a finger or two. I didn’t care that they’d known each other forever. His hand over hers made me see red. Fuck. When was the last time I’d felt like this, if ever? She was driving me crazy. She took her hand from under his and picked up the menu, studying it longer than necessary. There were only six choices on it. It didn’t take more than a minute to narrow it down. Marissa’s phone buzzed in her purse, and she excused herself when she looked at the screen. She leaned in and told Lyla what to order her.
Without her as a buffer between us, I had a much better view of Lyla, but I couldn’t keep staring without looking like a creep, so I decided to talk to her instead.
“Is this a nightmare for you, being around all these people?” I asked quietly.
“Kind of.” She turned her face to me. Christ, that face, those lips, those eyes. “They make a mean chicken and waffles, though, so dealing with you guys is a small price to pay.”
I bit back a laugh. “This is a new look on you. Do you only ditch your baggy clothes on Sundays?”
She set her hand on Marissa’s empty chair and leaned closer to me like she was telling me a secret. I did the same, setting my fingers just centimeters from hers. She licked her lips. I bit back a groan. She was doing this on purpose. She had to be. For some reason, probably because she showed no interest, I wanted her to want me. It was beyond my comprehension because, as Nash stated, I had countless women constantly throwing themselves at me. None of them held my attention. Not like this. When Lyla finally decided to grace me with her words, they were low, almost a whisper.
“Do you and your douchebag friends only make bets on who will fuck me first on Sundays?” Her eyes danced. Fuck. How much did she know about that?
“Would you like me to take that bet?” I moved my hand closer to hers, the tips of our fingers touching.
“Only if you intend to lose.” She took her hand back and sat straight in her chair.
I’d never lost anything in my life (my father’s affection notwithstanding), but I had no comeback for that. I spent most of the meal talking to the guys and ignoring Lyla. At least openly. My ears perked up whenever she spoke, which wasn’t often. I hated Mason, who was sitting across from her with the best view in the house. I was irritated with how Prescott got all up in her personal space whenever he spoke to her. I took out my phone and Googled how long I’d go to jail if I kidnapped her. After breakfast, we all walked outside to take in the view of the marina and golf course. Everyone scattered on the terrace to take selfies while I watched Lyla. The spring temperature was just right, but she kept running her hands down her arms like she was cold. I unbuttoned the shirt I had on and set it around her shoulders.
She jolted and looked up at me. I thought she would fight me on this for a moment, but she just said, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I looked out at the marina. “Do you come here a lot?”
“Sure.” Her eyes darted to mine briefly. “I’ll put myself through just about anything when I’m in my self-loathing phase and want to torture myself.”
I laughed. I tried not to because I didn’t want to give in to her little attitude, but she was funny. I caught her looking at my bare chest for a second before she turned away. I grinned at the back of her head. Mayyyybe I was getting somewhere. Everyone else walked inside, but Lyla stepped forward, setting her forearms on the wall and closing her eyes as the breeze hit her face. I stared at her. I’d never noticed how much shorter than me she was. Then again, even though she stood at eye level with my pecs, she carried an air of grandeur.