Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Reese's eyes flash wide, and she shakes her head. “Why would I ever talk to Nash Stokehill?”
Monroe laughs, drawing the attention of a few people from the table over, which only makes us laugh harder. “Maybe because you have a massive crush on him?” Monroe says in a lower tone, but Reese still hushes her anyway.
“That was so three years ago,” Reese argues. “I don’t have a crush on him now. Is he super fun to look at? Absolutely. Neither one of you can deny that, but he’s a player.”
Monroe and I silently consider, no doubt she's visualizing what I'm visualizing—Nash Stokehill, the Badgers’ resident player, gracing all the social media sites with videos or pictures of him without his shirt on, working out in the gym, flexing muscles upon muscles, flashing the ink that decorates his chest, his dirty-blond hair pulled back in a tie, a neatly trimmed beard lining a strong-as-hell jaw.
Monroe and I purse our lips and nod, unable to argue with her, but I've never had any desire to climb Nash like a tree…which were Reese’s exact words after two White Claws second semester of freshman year.
Now Lawson Wolfe on the other hand? I didn't need alcohol to admit I thought about it more than once since that kiss a week ago. Fantasizing about it and actually acting on it were two different things, the latter I had no intention of ever doing.
“Either way,” I say getting back to the original question. “Nash has been cool about it too.”
“Have any of them signed up for private lessons?”
“Yes,” I say. “One rookie, Baylor, and Pax.”
“Aww,” Monroe drags out the word, a prideful grin shaping her full lips. They're painted red today, which you would think would clash with the Badger colors but only makes her look more fire. “That's so sweet of him.”
“It really is,” I say. “Pax doesn't need my help as much as the other guys do, but him being a vet and signing up just like Baylor definitely gives me more credibility.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I quickly retrieve it, wondering if it'll be another player seeking out my services. I can only juggle so many, but I’ll cram as many as I can into my schedule if it means they’re going to take me seriously.
I swipe open my screen, and swallow hard when I see the text.
Brian: You promised me. We planned this for years Blakely. You can't go back on your word. You need to get over this little tiff between us and come back to your senses. I only push you so hard because I know you can be better.
“Fuck,” I sigh, shaking my head and sliding my phone across the table. “He won’t quit.”
Monroe and Reese immediately lean over to read the text, their faces curling in disgust as they gently nudge the phone back toward me. I close out the screen and pocket my phone with no intention to respond.
“It's been over a month,” Reese says. “You've told him a dozen times you're not getting back together. How can he not get that through his head?”
“Because he's a narcissistic asshole,” Monroe answers for me, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms over her chest. “Narcissists only believe what they want to believe. And in his mind, Blakely belongs to him.”
I blow out of breath, my heart ticking up a few notches as adrenaline threatens to flood my veins. Every text he sends me feels like a threat, like he might pop up at any minute and start begging again. Like he did the night Lawson intervened. It was the first time I'd ever seen Brian back off without me having to physically leave the area I was in to get him to leave me alone.
“You'd think that after seeing her with Lawson that night he'd back off,” Reese says as if she's reading my thoughts.
“I don't know if he believed it,” I admit. “It's not like he’d ever seen me with him before, and he's been around enough to know if I had a new boyfriend.”
“Maybe you should keep up the act,” Monroe suggests with a shrug. “Maybe if he saw you out with someone more, he'd take the hint.”
I groan. “Why should I have to concoct something like that? Why can’t he just act like an adult and move on?”
I’d broken up with him in the most mature, respectful way I could. Things had been going south between us for a year before I finally realized I didn't deserve to be in a relationship where I was constantly belittled and put on the back burner. Looking back, I honestly don't know how I endured four years with him, except for the fact that we had the same ambitions when it came to figure skating. His dreams of winning competitions and then landing a spot on the reality show, had been inspirational when we first met. Just like he'd been charming when we first met too.