Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Get out of my face, Blaze,” I say, my eyes not wavering from Archer’s.
“You’re a leader, man. You can’t be pushing people around,” he says, bouncing around us.
I grit my teeth. “We’re playing like shit. No one cares. Why should I?”
“I care, man.” Blaze looks around for help, but the rest of the team is silent, waiting. I feel their eyes on me. Hell, everyone is watching me. All the damn time. I’m sick of it.
“This is exactly what Coach was talking about.” He gives Archer a glare. “Plus, Archer was just kidding, right?”
He nods and attempts to raise his hands in mock surrender. “All I’m saying is it looked like you have a thing for her.”
“I don’t.” I move in closer and put my nose to his. “And if I really wanted her, I could have her.” The words feel wrong, but I can’t pull them back. The truth is, part of me was wired up and excited during the bet—excited to see if she’d say yes. What if she had?
Would I have stood her up? Maybe. I don’t know.
A sly expression grows in Archer’s eyes. “Prove it.”
I frown. What the hell is he talking about?
“Prove it,” he repeats, louder and with a bit of shrill in his tone. He looks around at the players. “Everyone listen up. We’re going to have us a doozy of a bet—one we don’t put on the board.”
My jaw twitches again. “I’m not playing your games.”
“The bets are good for the team. We’ve been doing it for years,” someone says, and I see most of the players nodding. A few rumble amongst themselves.
“…yeah, Ryker…”
Archer smirks and gives me a victorious look. “I bet you can’t tap that, number one. I bet you can’t score that girl before homecoming. Defense against offense for the whole shebang. If you lose, the whole offense loses. Got it?”
Some of the offensive players agree and clap me on the back, offering words of encouragement.
“You got this, dude.”
“Easy peasy.”
“Don’t you want that trophy?”
I eye the guys surrounding me, reading their excitement, and tension wraps around me. My teeth grind together. A bet to fuck a girl is not in my wheelhouse.
I release Archer with a push.
He gives me a hard look, one that tells me he isn’t going to let this bet go. “It’s all up to you, number one. If you want to win that trophy, you’ve got to bang Penelope.” He curls his lip. “I don’t think you can do it.”
Bang Penelope.
My gut tightens and my fists curl at his crude words. Penelope and I may not like each other, but I do respect her, and I don’t like him talking about her like she’s a piece of meat.
“Fuck off, Archer.” I give him and everyone a final glare then stalk out of the locker room with Blaze on my heels.
“Come on, man,” he says as we walk out of the field house. “What’s so bad about the bet? I don’t think she hates you. There’s something between you and her already.”
I frown. “No, there isn’t.”
“I disagree.”
I give him side-eye and he shrugs. “What? Everybody thinks I don’t notice shit because I’m spastic, but it looked pretty steamy behind that plant before she dumped the water on you. She was into you.” He sighs as we walk to the parking lot to get in our cars. “Besides, wouldn’t it be awesome to get one over on Archer? It would bug the shit out of him.”
I get to my black Chevy truck and unlock it with the clicker.
He watches me. “Dude, take one for the team. Ask her out again. Hell, you never know, you might really like her.”
“Nope. Not interested.” I motion to the passenger side. “Now, do you need a ride to class or what? You don’t need to miss that upper level psych class. I saw the F you got on your paper. Focus, man—we need to keep those grades up. What if the NFL doesn’t work out?”
“Yes, Mom, I’m going to class.” He exhales and gets in the truck. “I just don’t see why you won’t at least play along.”
“Football isn’t fun and games,” I tell him as I crank the vehicle. “It’s serious shit and we can’t screw it up. The draft is coming, and everyone’s watching us.”
“You thought the ketchup was fun.”
I sigh.
“You like annoying her,” he adds in a singsong voice.
“Maybe.”
He exhales.
We pull out of the parking lot, and I should be thinking about my next class, but in the back of my mind I’m still replaying Archer’s wager in my head.
I bet you can’t score that girl before homecoming.
Penelope
I’m standing in my kitchen, about to feed my bird when my phone pings with a text from an unknown number. I set the food down and study the message.
Hey, you there? I want to talk.