Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
And it was only a scrimmage.
Under the brim of my ball cap, I continue watching as Molly Wakefield tries to scoot her ass out of her chair. In that short jean skirt, it’s pretty obvious she’s trying not to give me a crotch shot.
I watch her anyway, just in case she does—what can I say? I’m always looking on the bright side of things.
Damn, she’s got a great pair of legs—ones I’ve tried not to appreciate the entire period, because I have a shit ton of homework. I cannot afford any distractions, especially not during my senior year, and not with my schedule.
School.
Hockey practice.
Hockey games.
Repeat.
But seriously…her legs are fucking amazing. Long, tan, and toned, Molly must have been overheating during the entire class period, because there’s a slight sheen to her skin that resembles an…afterglow.
I can’t take my eyes off her.
Jesus Christ, what the hell am I talking about? Afterglow?
I sound like a douchebag.
She knows I’m watching her, and yeah, it’s completely obvious she’s embarrassed. How do I know this, you may be asking yourself? Well, for one, she’s avoided all eye contact with me for the entire period, which is fifty minutes, not to mention the way she’s hustling out of here like her panties are on fire, which of course makes me think of her in nothing but underwear.
I’m visualizing a low-rise thong.
Here’s another thing I keep asking myself: Why the fuck have I never noticed her before?
Sure, I know who she is. I think everyone does. She’s pretty and popular, and her dad is on the school board. I’ve seen her in passing, but I guess I’ve never stopped to really look at her. Oh, that’s right: girls are hanging on me all the time, so I never have the chance.
I trail out of the library behind Molly, taking in her features from her head to her fine ass. Her hair is loose and hanging halfway down her back, swaying gently as she walks. It’s this really pretty shade of brown, not red and not brown. I don’t know what the hell color it is, but I like it.
A lot.
Unexpectedly, she turns and looks back at me. Our gazes connect, but her stare remains impassive, which surprises me. I feel my eyebrows shoot up into my forehead because I don’t often get blank stares from girls. Mostly when they look at me they’re trying to appear sexy—licking their lips, batting their eyes, gushing uncontrollably—which drives me fucking nuts. I’m not entirely led around by what’s in my pants.
I’ve got news for you, ladies: Desperation is not an attractive quality.
Molly disappears into the crowd, and I stop.
Hesitating for the briefest of seconds, I finally turn in the opposite direction and head toward my locker.
CHAPTER 3
MOLLY
“Don’t flatter yourself, buddy! I wasn’t looking at you, I was checking out your truck.”
– Jenna
“A few of us are going to the lake, you wanna come?” asks Jenna. We’re standing at my locker, where I’m both collecting my homework and shoving books into the tiny cramped space. I hold back some papers from falling out with my palm and quickly slam it shut.
“Well…I hadn’t really planned on it, no. My parents aren’t home, so I kind of wanted the house to myself for a few hours. You know how it is….” I shrug and stand there, shifting my weight, wanting to hit the road. I mean, seriously, is there anything better than having your parents out of the house? My mom, who has been a stay-at-home-mom since my brother was born, is home most afternoons. If she isn’t home when I walk in the door, she’s usually home shortly after.
Tonight, as luck would have it, my parents are attending a fundraiser for a new girls’ school that has just been renovated. My dad works in finance but is also on the school board for our district, so they attend these sorts of things every so often.
“Yeah, I get it, Molly, but can’t you do your homework at the lake? Just bring a blanket. Run home and grab your suit and meet us there. Cool?” Jenna stares at me with her big blue eyes and pushes out her bottom lip, which I consider her trademark move to manipulate me.
And…it works.
“Fine,” I relent begrudgingly. “I’ll run home and grab my suit.”
Ugh, I’m such a pushover.
What I really wanted to do was go home and watch Pretty Little Liars on demand while eating Cheetos on the couch. For the record, Cheetos are a big no-no at my house ever since the time my idiot older brother got caught wiping his orange fingers on the arms of the La-Z-Boy.
Food hasn’t been allowed in the living room since.
I call it “The Incident of 2010 that Ruined it for Everybody”.
Now my mom watches us like a hawk.
“Wear that new suit you bought at Macy’s last week,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at me in a suggestive manner. “Just in case! You never knooww…” She sing-songs this last part. “I want to make sure you have a hot date for Fall Formal so you can double with me and Alex again this year.”