Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 12381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 62(@200wpm)___ 50(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 12381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 62(@200wpm)___ 50(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
“That all sounds…legit.” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice because quite frankly, it all sounds so boring.
“Well…” Ryder’s hesitation hangs in the air.
“What?” I lean forward. “Do you have dirt on people? Tell me the good stuff.”
“I can’t—I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“Right, right.” I pause. Then, “But I mean…one little tidbit? Please?”
He hesitates another few seconds. “One guy did get locked in a bedroom in only his boxer shorts.”
“What!” I screech. “Stop it! He did not.” I have so many questions. “Why was he in his boxers? Why was he locked in?”
Who even has a lock on the outside of their bedroom door? Holy hell, what kind of girl does that?
My thoughts stray to Mallory—because that’s the sort of thing she might do—then I shrug it off, knowing she would have told me all this. Besides, all she had Jackson do was give her a foot rub and take her for tacos.
“Dude, if I knew more details, I’d tell you, but I can’t imagine it took much to convince him to get undressed—I know who the girl is, and none of this surprises me.”
“Was it a prank?”
“No.” He laughs. “I think it was seduction gone terribly wrong.”
“That sounds like an understatement.”
“Ya think?”
“I’d never…” My voice trails off.
“Lock a guy in your room?” Ryder finishes. “That’s because you’re not bat-shit crazy.” Pause. “Are you?”
“Uh, no. And if I was, would I tell you?”
“Good point.”
“So…”
“So.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
I look down at my yoga pants—which are just glorified sweatpants—and the tattered hem of my hoodie then smirk. “Oh, it’s gonna be a crazy night for me. Lots of bars and parties and…craziness.”
“Was that sarcasm I’m detecting?”
“Yes. I was laying it on pretty thick.”
“Any chance you want to, I don’t know—hang out?”
Hang out?
Hang out.
What does that even mean anymore? Does he want to sit in his apartment and watch TV, but together? Does he want to go somewhere? To a bar? To a party?
On a date?
Scrub my tub while I sit on my toilet?
I need him to be specific—I haven’t been asked on a date since Jack Wiedmeyer took me to the movies my senior year of high school.
“Hang out? What did you have in mind?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. We could…” His voice trails off, because in this college town, there really is nothing to do. The school might be huge, but the town it’s situated in is not. In fact, the largest employer in the county is the college itself.
“We could go bowling,” he suggests after a long pause.
My silence is extended enough to answer for me.
“Okay, so not bowling. How about we go have coffee somewhere?”
“At eight o’clock at night?”
What the hell am I saying? Who cares if it’s eight at night—the guy wants to hang out with you! The guy you have had a crush on for six semesters!
“How about we go to that place on Main Street where you can paint canvases and drink wine and shit?”
Now he’s talking my language. “Oh! That sounds fun.”
It actually does. I’ve painted pottery before, never a canvas, but I always see pictures on social media when my friends go do it.
“What’s your address? I’ll come get you.”
“Oh gosh, don’t worry about it—I can meet you there.”
Ryder’s long pause is palpable. “Okay, if that’s what you’re comfortable with.”
I know I’m being difficult, but I can’t help it. I’ve always been awkward around men, mostly because I have so little interaction with them. It’s a million times worse conversing with someone I actually like—not to mention Ryder is showing an actual interest in me, which is kind of freaking me out.
Not kind of—it is. A lot.
Like, a lot a lot.
What does Ryder Williams want?
“Give me an hour to take care of a few things then I’ll meet you downtown?”
Translation: Give me an hour to take off these yoga pants, slap on some makeup, and untangle this mop of a mess atop my head so I can show up looking cute and not dumpy.
“Sounds good. See you in an hour.”
Chapter Four
Ryder
I’m early.
Of course I am. I’m always early because it’s in my DNA. My father is military and didn’t tolerate tardiness. I learned pretty damn fast to be on time—or early.
Piper isn’t here yet, so I check us in, paying for two canvases and two glasses of wine but waiting to allow her to choose what kind when she gets here.
7:50.
Ten more minutes.
I don’t know what possessed me to ask her to hang out. I’m positive she was confused by it, and I know for damn sure when Kevin finds out, he’s going to be pretty pissed at me.
He might have had a crush on her for a few weeks, but I’ve had a crush on her for years. So, however mad he is about me breaking bro code, I’ll deal with it later.