Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
I paced the room, trying to decide where to crash. My instinct was Kellan’s, because of course it was. To be honest, it had less to do with an overflowing toilet and more with spending time with him. Even if it was only to sleep.
He might think differently, though. Supposed all I could do was ask.
Before I lost my nerve, I headed out of my room and padded down the hallway toward his.
I raised my hand to knock on Kellan’s door. Fuck, I was nervous. This could go one of two ways—he could either turn me away or invite me in. Mind made up, I thumped softly, hoping none of my teammates spotted me standing in the hall. But it was late, and most were probably asleep or at the very least tucked in their sheets and on their phones.
It took Kellan a minute to get to the door, and when I heard him stumble over something, I winced, feeling terrible for disturbing him. But there was no turning back now.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in a hoarse whisper, glancing up and down the hall with panicked eyes. “And why are you carrying a pillow?”
“Our room is sort of underwater right now,” I explained. “Hollister clogged the toilet, literally, and it overflowed into our room. Smells like ass in there.”
I detected a smirk before Kellan’s hand flew to his mouth.
I motioned behind me. “We decided to evacuate the room and find another place to sleep while the front desk sends maintenance up.”
He looked into the empty hall again. “So why did you come to my door?”
“It’s not that complicated. Hollister went to Girard’s room, I saw your door, knocked, and only want to get some sleep,” I explained with a false sense of bravado, the kind I had to muster frequently with him. Why did he look so cute in those nylon shorts, a baggy T-shirt, and with rumpled hair? “Mind if I crash here?”
He stepped back, motioning me over the threshold, which was a relief because at least I wouldn’t be standing in the hallway.
“Thing is, I only have one bed.” He lifted his thumb over his shoulder to the single queen mattress.
“I’m totally okay sleeping on the floor,” I said, but when I noticed the hesitation still there in his eyes, I figured I’d pushed my luck too far. No way I wanted to make a bigger fool of myself. “You know what? It’s okay, I’ll go knock on Maclain’s door.”
I turned to leave when I heard his soft voice. “You can stay. I just didn’t want anyone to think…”
That he’s being overly friendly. Coach probably schooled him good on that. I could tell by the way he tracked his son’s movements sometimes when the team was together. It should’ve deterred me from my trips to his seat on the bus, but it didn’t. Besides, it was all innocent banter.
“I get it, and they won’t.” I didn’t like being called the coach’s pet either. “I’ll be back in my bed early morning.”
When he closed the door behind me, I tossed my pillow on the floor in front of the bed. I knew to bring one because no way my teammates would give up their creature comforts for me.
We stood there awkwardly, staring at each other, and I felt like shit again for even entertaining the idea. I was an idiot.
“Um, I don’t know what… Here, have something to cover up with in case you get cold.” Kellan pulled the comforter off the mattress and dropped it to the floor near my pillow.
“Thanks.” Okay, maybe this was going to work out just fine.
Then he plopped down on the sheets and aimed the remote. “I was actually clicking around the channels because I couldn’t sleep.”
“I have to do that sometimes too.” I sank to the floor and arranged my pillow and comforter parallel to the end of the bed. “Don’t let me stop you.”
I craned my neck toward the television to see what sort of selection he had.
“Oh my God,” he said when he scrolled to the next channel. “I love this movie. I’ve seen it at least—”
“A dozen times,” I said, finishing his sentence without meaning to.
When I glanced over my shoulder, he was staring at me in amazement. Then his gaze swung back to the screen.
“I mean, what baseball fan doesn’t like Moneyball?” I motioned toward the movie. “Besides, this is totally up your alley. The statistical analysis, and whatever that method is they use to scout players…”
“Sabermetrics,” Kellan replied, getting a dreamy smile on his face. “Plus, Brad Pitt still has it going on. I mean—” He clamped his hand over his mouth, his cheeks tinging pink. “Sorry, I forgot I wasn’t at home, spouting off with Jasmine. We like to rate movie stars based on, uh…certain criteria. Never mind.”