Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
"Hi," I murmur, smiling at her. "I'm Crue. You're Ireland?"
"Yes," she whispers, those clear green eyes eating me up behind her glasses. Fuck, she's sweet. "Ireland Fitzgerald."
Fitzgerald. She's related to Shelby? Little sister? I glance at Shelby, instantly confirming the connection. Yeah, they're definitely related. Shelby's watching me like she thinks I plan to seduce her sister right here in front of everyone.
"Mason said you wanted to interview me. Is that true?"
"I…um…yes?" Her gaze drifts to my cock. I swear to God, he grows three sizes. "I have lots of questions about your member."
Shelby slaps a hand over her mouth. Her friends all die laughing. She doesn't notice. She's still staring at my cock.
I reach out, tipping her head back until her eyes meet mine again. "Eyes up here before I let you ask all those questions you have about my member, Éire."
"W-what?"
I grin, trying not to laugh. She has no clue what she just said.
Shelby leans over, whispering something in her ear.
Her eyes grow comically wide. "I did not say that."
"You did," Shelby says.
Her friends all bob their agreement.
Ireland presses her hands to her hot cheeks, clearly dismayed.
"Let me see your phone, baby," I murmur, not wanting her to dwell on it. It's not the worst thing someone has said to me. Hell, it's not even on the list of worst things someone has said to me. Besides, I'm the one who decided to have this conversation while my dick's standing at attention. If she's flustered, that's on me.
She stares at me like I'm speaking a foreign language, which is just fucking cute. Who am I kidding? Everything about this girl is adorable.
"I need your phone, Éire."
She reaches into her pocket and pulls it out before holding it out to me. As soon as I take it, she squeaks like a little mouse and slaps it out of my hand.
"Wait! You can't look at that!" she cries, her face turning bright red as she dives out of her seat after it.
I get to it before she does, kneeling to snatch it up.
She lunges for it, trying to grab it out of my hands, but I'm a lot faster than she is. Instead of her grabbing the phone, I grab her. She lands on my knee, bent backward over my arm, and staring up at me in shock.
"Oh, he's fast," Dani whispers.
"Uh-huh," Brielle agrees.
Not even Shelby makes a move to help her. They all seem content to watch this play out. Which is good news for me since I don't particularly relish getting my ass kicked by a bunch of girls while my dick bobs in the wind.
"What's on the phone, Ireland?"
"N-nothin'," she drawls in the sweetest Southern accent.
I tap the button on the side to bring the screen to life and then turn it around, praying she has facial recognition set up.
"Wait!" she cries as soon as she sees my plan. But it's already too late. The phone unlocks, granting me access.
I immediately see what she wanted to hide. Henry Cavill's Geralt in a bathtub. At least she has good taste. The Witcher is phenomenal. I'm not looking forward to hating Henry Cavill for the rest of my life, but it's inevitable if she's got a thing for him.
"Fucking Henry Cavill," I grunt, flicking my gaze from the phone to her.
"I'm not explaining on account of you invading my privacy," she mumbles, her cheeks still pink.
"You handed me the phone." I scroll to messages and shoot myself a text so I have her number and she has mine. "And unlocked it."
"I tried to take it back!" she cries. "And you used my face to unlock it, so that doesn't even count, Crue."
"Semantics." I finish sending the text and open a browser. From there, I search my name and grab an image. I quickly replace the background on her phone, and then lock it before handing it back to her.
She hugs it as if it's her firstborn.
"I'll call you after rehearsal so we can set up a time to start the interview."
"You mean you're going to call today? As in today, today?" she squeaks as I slowly haul her upright, trying like hell not to think about how she smells like orange blossoms, or how incredible she feels in my arms, or how fucking hard I am right now. Jesus. Is he ever going down?
"Today, today," I confirm, setting her on her feet. "I'll call you after rehearsal. Answer the phone, Ireland."
"What if I'm busy?" She narrows her eyes on me, making me smile. "What if I'm in the bathroom?"
"Fine. Don't answer." I shrug like it doesn't matter to me one way or another. We both know I'm full of shit, just like we both know she's going to answer when I call. Not because of the interview, but because she can't take her eyes off me, and I haven't seen anything except her since I saw her sitting in the front row.