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 try to pay attention—I really do—but before long I feel a pricking, as if someone is watching me, and I glance around the bookstore.
My perusal around the establishment lands one aisle over where I see a sliver of khaki pants behind a tall display of atlases. Craning my neck, I see his mass of wild hair.
I stuff down my grin. Ryker.
He’s listening to us.
Maybe it’s part of his…tutelage?
Admittedly, it does encourage me to try harder.
My phone vibrates with a text, and while Connor is checking out the mechanical pencils and going into detail about which one is best for each class, I pull it out stealthily and read.
Good job with the talking, Red. Keep it up and he’s all yours.
“Hmmm,” I say to Connor’s question about paper choices as he bends down to look for a five-subject notebook.
What do I talk about? I text.
Find things you both like. Books? Chess? Dungeons and Dragons? Hell, I don’t know. Nerd stuff.
I’ve seen you reading in the library before. Does that make you a nerd, Baby Llama?
I get no reply and focus on Connor, who’s still talking as he stares at the notebook selection. I feel my phone buzz and arrange it on top of the workbook so I’m not actually holding it but I can still read it. Being stealthy, I peek at Ryker’s response.
I’m guessing you call me Baby Llama because of my hairy chest, is his reply. I see you looking at it. It hypnotizes you. I actually wore my button-down today so you’d get a good view.
Oh, he is such a scoundrel!
I’M NOT FASCINATED BY YOUR HAIR, I reply. Maybe I call you that because your face is rather long.
I think you want to touch my chest, he replies. Maybe later after Connor is gone I’ll take my shirt off for you. I bet you won’t touch my chest.
Go to hell, quarterback, I text.
I remember that time you saw me coming out of the shower at the Tau house with only a towel on. I saw your open mouth. You were…IMPRESSED. Do you have fantasies about my naked chest?
I’m going to slap you again next time I see you. Or pull out one of those hairs.
As long as I get to kiss you first, he says.
My breath sucks in. Oh, he’s just teasing me. Then he sends me a string of laughing crying emojis with a string of llamas. See. A joke.
What a player, I think with a small smile.
It was a great kiss, I tell him.
I know.
I roll my eyes. Thank you for getting him over here.
Another text comes in a few minutes later. By the way, where is Forks, Seattle?
It’s where the Cullens live. Hello, Twilight?
You’re really into bloodsuckers.
If he only knew. I have most of the books and movies memorized.
Edward’s face is on my pillow.
LOL, he replies. Maybe it’s time you gave up your book crushes and focused on real life more.
And I assume Sexy as Hell Athlete is the one to help me with that?
Did I not just get you Connor? Now stop texting me and talk to him.
I’m chuckling when I hear my name and look up at Connor. His face is inquisitive.
“I’m sorry.” I gesture to my phone. “Important message. Did you say something?”
“I asked if you liked to play pool.”
I squint. How did we get from school supplies to pool? I flounder, my eyes running around the store, trying to recall details of a game I played once or twice in my aunt’s basement when I was a kid. I reach into my purse for my lipstick, a sure sign I’m nervous. I know there’s an eight ball…
He gives me a slightly perplexed look. “You know the game with the balls and sticks? Billiards, if you’re fancy.”
“Oh, pool. I thought you said tool.” I laugh. “I played in high school actually, was even in a league with…teams and such.” God. Do they have those?
“I didn’t know schools had those.”
I nod. “They do! I went to a private school here in Magnolia, and it was all the rage.”
His face lights up. “That’s awesome. It’s one of my favorite pastimes since my dad owns a pool hall back in my hometown.”
I’ve read that widening your eyes when you talk to the opposite sex shows interest, so I flare mine open. “Where’s that?”
“Memphis.” He gives me an odd look. “You okay?”
I nod emphatically. “Yeah, why?”
“Your eyes got big.”
“Oh, just a speck of dust. It’s fine.” I wave dismissively. “I love Memphis! Graceland’s there, home of Elvis, right? It’s the best. Lots of dancing and music…stuff.”
He brightens. “You like Elvis?”
“Achy Breaky Heart guy with the great hair and shiny outfits? Totally.”
He frowns. “No, that was Billy Ray Cyrus, and I’m not sure where he’s from. Elvis sang in the 60s and 70s—and he’s dead. You know that, right?”