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)
She narrows her eyes at me as she stuffs a fry in her mouth. “What about Ryker? He’s hot.”
“There is no me and Ryker.”
She looks at me.
“What?” I say. “I don’t do football players.”
She thinks on this, her finger tapping her chin. “What I find interesting is that Ryker chose to kiss you to make Connor jealous. There are a dozen other things he could have done, like told Connor how nice and sweet you are.”
I shrug. “He had a gut feeling and just went with it, I guess.”
She dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “Listen, I have gut feelings too, and mine is telling me Ryker has his eye on you. He watches you.” Her gaze darts over to the football table in the back. “In fact, don’t turn your head, but he’s looking right now. And his face is so dang serious.”
I stiffen, and it’s everything I can do to not turn my head. It’s been a couple of days since we had our talk in calculus, and it feels as if he’s giving me space.
I lean in over the table. “What’s he doing?”
Charisma’s gaze brushes across the restaurant, lingers in their direction, and then comes back to me.
“Well?” I ask
She shrugs. “Looking hot and cocky as usual. Definitely a PILF.” Player I’d Like to Fuck. “Not me,” she adds, “but you know…the rest of the world.”
“Who’s next to him? Jersey chaser?”
She grimaces. “There is a jersey chaser there, but he’s not into her. I’ve been scoping him out periodically and he’s barely looked at her. Blaze is on the other side talking his ear off.”
“He didn’t ask for me to be his waitress tonight,” I say, almost to myself.
“Interesting. No more garçon?”
I shrug. Honestly, I was a little disappointed.
She looks at me. “By the way, remember the guy I hooked up with at the toga party last year?”
“Yeah.”
“Pretty sure it was Blaze.”
I snort and nearly choke on a fry. After taking a long drink from my soda, I say, “How do you know?”
A sheepish grin crosses her face. “Just something he said. Apparently, he was also at that party and can’t remember much of it.” She gets a faraway look on her face. “All I can recall about him is this thing he did with his tongue—”
I hold my hand up. “Just stop right there. I want to be able to talk to him in the future without picturing what you’re about to describe.”
She giggles.
“And back to Ryker…I’m not his type, so nope. You’re wrong.”
Charisma thinks. “Hmmm, if you say so. But you did just bring him up again.”
I tuck more fries in my mouth.
She sighs and smirks down at her curves. “I wish I could eat like you do.”
“At least you have boobs.” I wave at my chest area. “Underneath this vintage Buffy the Vampire Slayer shirt is a sixty dollar push-up bra. Thank you, magic brassiere.” I look around the room and lean in. “With the cutlets stuffed in this contraption, everyone thinks I’m at least a solid B cup.”
“Stop it. You have tits,” she says.
“Correction. I have titlets.”
She giggles. “That’s not even a word! How do you come up with this stuff?”
I tap my head. “But in my stories, the heroine always has big boobs.” I twist my lips. “Maybe I should get a boob job.”
She shakes her head at me. “Do it for you, but no one else.”
I nod. “Of course. The man who falls for me will love my titlets.”
“Please stop saying titlets.”
We both laugh.
I shrug and check my phone for the time—my break is almost over—and eat a few more bites of my burger. “Will you feed Vampire Bill for me when you get home?”
“No. He hates me.”
I wave her off. “The pellets are in the pantry, and if you can chop up some kale, maybe some banana, he’ll be all set.” I give her a grin. “Also, if you can tell him the word of the day again. We’ve been working on llama. Tell him I love him, too.”
She glares at me. “Seriously. Anything else? He’ll try to peck me. And llama? Ryker inspired?”
I shrug.
“It was!” A gleam grows in her hazel eyes. “I’m going to teach him something good, something that will definitely make him a cool bird.”
I give her a look. “He already has enough dirty words. I know he learned ‘shit’ from you.”
“I know nothing.”
I sigh. “Just give him a little head scratch before you put him in my room, okay? Maybe turn on some music so he doesn’t get lonely. Backstreet Boys is his favorite.”
She takes a sip of her soda. “I don’t mind. I just hate that you work so much. You know your dad would pay your bills, right? All you’d have to do is ask.”
I exhale. He has offered to pay what my academic scholarship doesn’t cover, but I refuse. Mom left me the house and some insurance money when she passed. I’m not destitute.