Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“And what would that be?” he asks, his stride never faltering.
The man is practically refusing to look in my direction, and as much as I want to question why, I can’t seem to bring myself to say anything that has the power to set him off. I don’t want him angry with me because that isn’t going to get me what I really want, and although my cock back in his mouth is high on that list, I really just want my friend back. He was such an integral part of my life for so long, it feels as if I haven’t been whole for the last several years.
“Smiling.”
His steps falter, the one-word confession making his feet stutter on the sidewalk.
“You smile all the time,” he says, his tone marked with the same bitterness I’ve felt often in recent years.
“I fake it more often than not,” I whisper, the lack of people around us making it easy to hear each other.
“And what is making you smile for real right now? If one of the freshmen get—”
“You,” I interrupt. “I’m smiling because of you.”
He scoffs, the disingenuous sound making me want to spin him around and beat the truth into him.
“I’m serious. Tonight is going to be loads of fun.”
I watch his throat work on a swallow, and I know this could possibly be the best opportunity I’ll get to try and draw him back into my life as my friend, but I chicken out. His refusal would leave a crater inside of me, and I’m not sure I’d have the ability to heal from it, so I choose to be a coward instead.
I don’t bring up our history.
I don’t mention last night.
I don’t beg this man to look me in the eye and confess that he’s missed me too.
“Tyler is going to be trouble,” I say instead.
Rick chuckles. “You think? He’s exactly like you.”
I grin, having seen a lot of myself in the way Tyler refused to be looked at as anything other than part of the team tonight. The man didn’t care that he was a freshman. He stood ramrod straight and demanded to be part of the conversation.
“Hopefully, he’ll be as dedicated,” I say as I grab Rick’s arm once we approach one of the buildings. “This is where we need to be.”
Rick looks at the closed sign hanging in the window of That’s Another Story, the local bookstore.
“It’s closed, and even if I were interested in winning, which I’m not if you were wondering, I’m not willing to break into a closed business to do so.” He looks up and down the vacant street as if he were already doing something wrong. “The townspeople would run us out with pitchforks if we even thought about it.”
“Always so cautious,” I tease, as I lift my hand to knock on the door. “We aren’t breaking in. That’s Oakleigh’s bike.”
I point to the bike leaning up against one of the huge windows just down the sidewalk. That’s one of the amazing things about Lindell.
“She works here,” I say before knocking again.
His eyes narrow at me, grumbling something about all the girls I’ve hooked up with in the past.
“She was in one of my classes last semester. I overheard her talking about it,” I explain.
This seems to appease him a little, and a zing of awareness shoots up my spine.
“I like it.”
“What?” he snaps.
“The jealousy.” I lean in closer as I see a shadow move inside the store. “It makes my dick hard.”
“I’m not—”
“We’re closed.”
I snap my eyes to Oakleigh, a wide smile on my face. I’m a handsome guy, and with that comes the knowledge that a little bit of flirting always seems to work regardless of a woman’s age. College girls, for the most part, are easy prey on that account.
Rick chuckles when instead of grinning back, she simply tilts her head to the side, nose scrunching up like she smells something foul.
“I need a book on weird animals.”
“We’re closed,” she repeats, slower this time like I don’t have the mental capacity to understand the two words.
“I know,” I say, equally as slow because… rude.
“Let’s go,” Rick mutters, but he doesn’t risk touching me in front of someone.
I fucking hate that he feels like he can’t. Before he kissed me that night, it wouldn’t be unusual for us to be sitting side by side, the length of our bodies lined up or my arm around his shoulder as we watched a movie on one of our phones. Now the man doesn’t even feel comfortable brushing against me.
“Please,” I beg, unwilling to give up on trying charm to get this girl to help us out.
“It won’t work,” Rick argues. “I’m sure Calhoun intended for us to have a live animal.”
Oakleigh cringes, taking a step back as if we disgust her. “What are you going to do with a live animal?”