Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“Delivering pizzas now? Daddy Dearest finally cut the purse strings?”
“Nah, the delivery guy’s allergic to bitch, so I told him I’d take care of it.”
I give him a bratty smile before turning away, and he follows me inside, setting the pizzas on the countertop.
“How good of you to show up after we’ve done all the heavy lifting,” Thayer says, walking over to open the pizza box, pulling out a slice before taking a seat at one of the barstools.
“I brought drinks,” Holden offers, holding the grocery bag up, the contents clanking together inside.
“You’re forgiven,” Shayne says, making her way into the narrow kitchen.
Holden pulls her in for a hug, ruffling her hair as he releases her. “Congrats on the place, baby sister.”
“Thanks for letting me know about it.” She smiles, taking the bag from his fingertips. She sets it on the counter, digging through the contents before producing two six packs of beer.
Wait. Holden is the reason I no longer have to listen to moaning and skin slapping all hours of the night and risk athletes’ foot every time I want to take a shower? Lovely.
“It’s not fancy or anything, but my mom gave me this to celebrate, too,” Shayne says, gesturing to a bottle of champagne next to the fridge. “I think I have cups in one of these boxes.”
“I’ll take a beer,” Thayer says, leaning forward to grab one.
“Valen?” Shayne asks. “Beer or champagne?”
“She strikes me as more of a tequila girl,” Holden says, making heat crawl up my neck. Shayne casts a curious look between the two of us, confused by his seemingly random statement.
“Champagne,” I say, ignoring him and the memories of his mouth on me, once again. “We’re celebrating.”
Shayne hands them both a bottle of beer before grabbing the champagne from the fridge and handing it to me to open. I hold it out in front of me, squinting one eye shut as I start to push against the cork.
“Give it here before you take my eye out,” Holden says, realizing he’s in the line of fire. He doesn’t wait for me to hand it over before he curls his fingers around the cold bottle, taking it from my grasp. God, even his stupid hands do it for me. This inexplicable attraction to him is ridiculous, and I tell myself that this tension, this pull to him is due to the fact that I’m still wondering what would’ve happened between us if Thayer never showed up that night. I was glad he did. Grateful that he saved me from making what was sure to be a huge mistake. Unfortunately, my brain and my body weren’t on the same page.
The pop snaps me out of my thoughts. Holden hands the bottle to Shayne, who pours two glasses before handing me one. “To being roommates,” she says, clinking the rim of her plastic cup to mine. “And a fresh start.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re full of pizza and champagne, all four of us squeezed onto the single couch as we watch some three-hour superhero movie that I have zero interest in. Thayer’s on one end with Shayne cuddled into his side, his arm slung possessively around her shoulders. Holden’s on the other side of her, knees spread wide, and I’m on the far end with my knees up, sandwiched between him and the arm of the couch. I can feel Holden’s eyes on me every now and then, but I keep my gaze pointed toward the screen, unseeing, my chin propped on my hand.
We really need more furniture.
“That reminds me.” Shayne reaches for the remote next to Thayer and pauses the movie before adjusting her body to face me. “You’re not going home for Christmas.”
I blink at her, unsure of how we got here and what Christmas has to do with anything. “I mean, not that I’m complaining, but care to elaborate?”
She smiles, folding her legs into a crisscrossed position. “We’re going on a trip instead.”
“Where?”
“Vermont. Ski trip. Cozy cabin in the mountains. It’ll be perfect. My mom’s working, and these two aren’t interested in spending Christmas with August, so we figured we’d put their cabin to use before I spend the rest of the break visiting my dad. Plus, now that you’re off the hook with cheer, you have no reason to say no. Unless you’d rather spend the holidays with your mom.”
I sprained my ankle during one of the last football games of the season doing a toe touch back tuck. Things I’ve done hundreds of times. I landed awkwardly and instantly knew something was wrong. I finished out the game, but by the time it was over, my ankle was purple and five times its normal size. The doctor made me wear a boot for two weeks, and when I went back for my follow-up after I got it off, he said I couldn’t go back to cheer for another six weeks, or I’d end up needing surgery. Even though it’s been a couple of weeks and I feel completely fine, my coach agrees with him and doesn’t want me to risk further injury.