Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I laugh, though my response lacks conviction. “Pretty sure.”
Eighty percent sure. Maybe seventy. Fine. Sixty, at least.
“Okay, then.” Blake’s voice is light, but his eyes gleam with something teasing and unrelenting. “But if you change your mind…you know where to find me.”
“Statistically speaking,” I retort, forcing my brain to recover, “Dragon Stadium or your apartment.”
He grins. “Sounds about right.”
“Goodnight, Blake.”
“Goodnight, Lex.”
Warm air crackles between us as Blake leans in. I expect a quick, harmless kiss on the cheek, but at the last moment—probably because of some glitch in my brain-to-neck function—my head jerks.
And his lips land directly on mine.
Tingles erupt across my skin like a live wire, and before I can process what’s happening, Blake wraps his arm around my back, pulling me closer. My hands press against his chest reflexively, and though my brain is spinning in panic, my body betrays me completely because—well, damn.
I push back abruptly, breaking the kiss and sucking in a sharp breath. Blake’s eyes are wide and intense, like I’ve just hit him with a lightning bolt.
“What was that, Lex?” he asks, his voice low and slightly rough.
“It wasn’t anything,” I lie, shaking my head too quickly.
“Bullshit.” He grabs my hand, holding it firmly but gently. “That was something.”
“Fine,” I admit. “It was something. It was research.”
The first step in convincing someone of something is convincing yourself. I’m not sure I’ve achieved that here, but he’s so caught off guard by my assertion, he goes with it anyway.
It was research. It was research. It was research.
Right? Right.
“Research?” He lifts his brow in disbelief.
“Yes. A data input, if you will.”
He stares at me for a beat, then grins. “Let’s input some more data, then.”
“No,” I say firmly, yanking my hand free. “This ends here.”
He shrugs, turning on his heel and laughing as he jogs down the stairs. But before he disappears into the night, he glances back, winks, and says, “We’ll see about that.”
It’s both a threat and a promise. Blake Boden isn’t going away without a fight.
His charisma is undeniable, and once again, hypotheses swirl in my mind. If subjected to this level of swoon for a prolonged period of time, how long does it take to fall in love?
Monday, May 19th
Blake
Hordes of excited graduates hoot and holler in their navy-blue-and-gold gowns, posing for pictures with their friends and family in front of the stadium as I leave drill practice on Monday afternoon.
It’s graduation day and the official end of the spring semester, and by and large, all the students will be moving their stuff out of their dorms and apartments and heading home for the summer. I’ll be here, though, practicing, conditioning, and training for next football season until our first game at the end of August and school starts at the beginning of September.
I’m thankful Ace, Julia, Finn, and Scottie are all local to New York so I’ll still be able to get together with friends other than my teammates, but for the most part, I’m excited for the crowds on campus to thin out a little bit. Brower Center student dining won’t be as much of a crush, and I won’t have to juggle classes and training.
I read a waiting text from my mom before shooting her a quick one back.
Mom: A little sad that you won’t be home this summer but looking forward to using your time in New York as an excuse to come shopping. LOL! Don’t tell your father.
Me: Haha. Noted. Your secret is safe with me.
Mom: Have a good day, hun. Talk to you soon!
I tuck my phone back into the pocket of my sweat shorts and sling my practice bag up on my shoulder. After I head back to my apartment and shower, I’m supposed to meet Ace, Julia, Finn, and Scottie for an end-of-the-year celebratory lunch at Zip’s Diner, and Ace is bound to give me shit if I’m the last one there.
The sun is crisp today, but a gentle breeze means it still feels like spring. The hair on my arms stands on end, so I stop briefly, pulling my bag back off my shoulder and opening it, and I throw on a Dickson University Football sweatshirt.
As the hood clears my eyes, I notice a familiar face across the pedestrian court, headed for the southwest entrance of Ferris Research Lab.
Well, hello, Lexi Winslow. I haven’t stopped thinking about her ever since we kissed on Saturday night outside her apartment building.
A small trill of excitement runs the line of my spine, my mind quickly recalling that amazing kiss, and I hustle up to get my arms in my sweatshirt sleeves and pick up my bag to jog in that direction, but it isn’t without at least three people shouting my name at full volume.
“Yo, Blake!”
“Boden!”
“What’s up, BB?”
Lexi, of course, hears the shouts and turns around to steal a glance, and I’m thankful and even a little hopeful when she doesn’t immediately bolt inside. Instead, she slows to a stop to wait for my approach, so I settle for a few quick chin-jerks at the strangers and keep jogging.