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)
I just couldn’t resist kissing you.
“Er, is everything okay over here?” comes a low masculine voice. It’s Connor and he’s moved to stand next to me, looking earnest and concerned as he takes us in. A tingle of excitement shoots through me. Oh, wow… This close up I see the luminous gold color of his eyes and the cleft in his strong chin. He really is handsome in a boy next door kind of way.
“It’s none of your business, Dimpleshitz,” Ryker says tightly, but his tone lacks heat.
Connor ignores him—good for him—and moves his attention to me. “Are you okay? Should I alert the security guard?”
I shake my head rapidly and clear my throat. “No, but thank you for checking on me. Everything is fine. Ryker and I just…” My words trail off. Shit, we don’t have a backstory except for the article, and that doesn’t fit here. “He’s sorry. Right?” I look over at the first-rate kisser, and my eyes implore him. Is this what I’m supposed to do—be the helpless female he rescues?
Ryker gives me a little nod. It’s about time you figured out the plan, his eyes say. Then a smirk dances across his face and I read it well: My kiss really knocked you out.
“In your dreams,” I mutter.
“What was that?” Connor asks me, and I dart my eyes from Ryker to him.
“Nothing,” I say, shaking myself. “Ryker was just…uh—”
He interrupts me. “I asked her out, and she turned me down. I thought kissing her might change her mind. Guess you can’t win them all.”
“Well, just don’t do it again,” I say as I cross my arms, playing my part.
“If that’s what you want,” Ryker says sardonically.
“I do.”
“If you say so.”
“I just did,” I snap.
“Sometimes your body says more than your words,” he retorts, arching one eyebrow.
How does he do that? It’s virtually impossible for me to only lift one eyebrow.
“Sometimes you need to just move on,” I quip back.
He smirks. “If you really mean that, why do you think about me all the time?”
How does he know I think about him?
I frown. “I don’t.”
“Uh-huh.” He gives me a look like he knows something I don’t.
I glare at him, widening my eyes. What’s his game? He’s gotten Connor over here—shouldn’t he be moving on now?
“Uh, did you guys used to date?” It’s Connor speaking as he moves in closer, and he’s definitely wearing Polo cologne. My nose flares at the familiar high school scent, and my first reaction is to recoil, but it’s not the worst scent in the world, I suppose. It’s not Old Spice.
“No,” we both say.
“Ah, well, you heard her then,” Connor says. “Maybe you need to give her some space.”
A long exhale comes from Ryker. “I think you’re right, Dimpleshitz.” With that, he grabs his backpack, gives us one more look, and takes off down the aisle.
I shake my head, watching his broad shoulders as he walks away. “He might be a genius,” I say, mostly to myself. Even though Connor does hear it, he doesn’t appear to understand my meaning.
He watches him, a small scowl buried in his forehead. “He’s an enigma for sure. Too bad about his involvement in the gambling thing.”
I turn toward him, wearing a frown. “It wasn’t gambling, and he was cleared by the NCAA.”
He gives me a careful glance. “I see…but didn’t you write an article about him?”
I nod. “I wrote a follow-up one as well.”
“Ah, you’re defending him.”
My lips flatten. “No.”
Connor’s face is thoughtful. “But you’re into him?”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not.” Work with this, Penelope. Ryker has given me an opportunity, and I’m not going to screw it up. Make conversation. I touch his arm and smile brightly. “Trust me, we’re just friends.”
He smiles boyishly, one corner of his lips turning up in a crooked grin. “I thought you two didn’t like each other, but then I can be a little oblivious.”
I nod. “Same here. I barely notice anything. Look at us, two peas in a pod.” I laugh. “So, how are you? How’s calculus?” I’m rambling and gazing up at him with doe eyes, and the attention seems to be working.
He blushes and dips his head. “Great. I saw that you were in there. Are you on your way to class?”
I nod, and when he helps me pick up some of the books I scattered on the floor in my earlier haste, it’s the closest we’ve ever been. I take in a small pimple near his chin and the tiny piece of pepper he has stuck in one of his teeth, probably from breakfast—I hope—and it’s a decidedly unromantic thought, but I figure he’s human like the rest of us. We make small talk, and I nod right along as he goes into a rather long and detailed discussion about Professor White and how much he enjoys his teaching style.