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)
I nod. Wade plays pro soccer and doesn’t know shit about hockey, so he’d never heard of Lach until one of us brought him up one day; Marissa filled him in on “all the gossip” while I sat there pretending that hearing it didn’t kill me. She left out the part about the attack and made it seem like I just up and left him because I wanted him to chase his dreams without holding him back. It’s the closest to the truth she could say, without getting him to ask questions.
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
“You’ve been here a little over three years now,” Wade says, looking at me like I’m an alien. “Of course, he’s moved on. Soccer is arguably the least popular sport in America, and women always launch themselves at me.”
Across from us, Marissa laughs. Prescott looks like he’s trying not to. I just stare at Wade.
“Thank you for enlightening us on how much ass pro athletes get,” I say. “I have friends who play in the league too, you know.”
Not that I talk to them anymore, but I don’t have to talk to them to know he’s right. I’d just rather not hear about it.
“So,” Pres starts. I look at him. “I saw Banks the other day. He asked about you.”
“Oh?” My heart squeezes when I think about my friend. He’s the only one I truly regret not being able to speak to, these days.
“I told him I’d seen you once or twice and that you talk about him all the time.” He smiles sadly.
I pick up my menu again. My own father stopped asking Pres about me. He did hound him a lot in the beginning, I'll give him that, but then he just stopped. According to Prescott, my father is actually really hurt by me leaving without saying goodbye. I don’t know if I believe that. I toss all thoughts of my dad in the trash bin inside my head, along with everything else I hate to think about. We spend the rest of dinner talking about other things, like the popular Broadway show coming soon and how tickets sold out immediately, since this is more of a young professionals and college city. The kids live out in the ‘burbs and only drive in this way for sports and museums. Whenever something kid-friendly comes around, the parents rejoice that they have a new place to take them, and the shows sell out in less than ten minutes. I like that about this place. It’s a great city, but it has a small-town charm. Not everyone knows each other, but if you go to the same places all the time, you’ll see the same people.
As the night goes on, we all have too many drinks and share some laughs, which is nice. This is normalcy — grabbing dinner and drinks with friends without worrying about anything. That’s the kind of stuff that’s priceless to me. Well, it came with a pretty hefty price, considering I lost the only man I’ve ever been in love with, but aside from that, it’s okay. When we’re done drinking and eating, we head outside, where Marissa suggests we go to a nightclub a couple of blocks down.
“I don’t know, Mar.” I purse my lips.
“Come on, Lyles. It’s Marissa’s birthday,” Pres says. “And we haven’t celebrated you finishing med school!”
“Well, we celebrated it but you weren’t here,” Marissa says. “BUT it’s my birthday! Come on, Lyles.”
“And you’ve never been to a club,” Pres says.
“You’ve never been to a club?” Wade screams. “How?”
“I don’t like people. That’s how.”
He frowns. “You work with kids all day.”
“Okay then, I don’t like adults.”
He stares at me for a moment. “Let’s just go for a little while. If you want to leave, I’ll walk you home.”
“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll go, but know I’m going to hate every second of it.”
“You hate every second of every day, unless you’re surrounded by kids or working at Tackle, so. . .” That’s Prescott, who didn’t hear Wade’s previous statement. He and Marissa agree with Pres, earning a middle finger from me, which makes them laugh.
I’m pretty sure I laugh too. I’m so tipsy that as we walk in that direction, my curiosity gets the better of me and now I’m dying to see what the hoopla about dance clubs is about.
CHAPTER 24
DELILAH
It takes me exactly three seconds to confirm that nightclubs are not my scene. I feel my face pinching as I look around. It’s beautiful and upscale, I’ll give them that. The music is loud, which I’m okay with. The sea of people willingly grinding against each other? Absolutely not. Marissa must see my apprehension, since she grabs my hand tightly. When she starts pulling me through the crowd, I want to die. Like for real. My skin starts to crawl when hands touch my back, my ass. I’m sure they’re not trying to feel me up, but it still creeps me out. I focus on breathing and keep moving. I don’t think it’s weird that they’re having fun dancing. I love dancing. I think it’s weird that they enjoy paying to listen to music that’s blasted through a speaker in the dark, getting sweaty, and dancing on a sticky floor with a bunch of strangers. It makes no damn sense. And the strobe lights. Jesus Christ, you’d think they’re looking for a fucking criminal in here.