Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Before Carson can open his trap—because the last thing I need at the moment is him egging her on—I grumble, “I do not have a crush.”
Mirth dances in my friend’s eyes. I can almost see the temptation to add kerosene to this particular fire.
“Does Mom know about this?” Elle asks.
I’m reminded once again why I prefer not to party with my sister. I don’t need her watching every move I make and reporting back to our parent with her findings.
When she arches a brow, I roll my eyes. “She’s my partner for a project. It’s nothing more than that.”
Elle tilts her head. The suspicious look in her eyes says that she’s not buying what I’m attempting to sell. “And you need to talk to her about a class project on a Saturday night while celebrating your win from this afternoon?”
Fair enough. That sounds lame even to my own ears. Obviously, I should have come up with a more plausible explanation. This one isn’t going to cut it.
How has this become my life?
No, I’m serious.
Taking out a restraining order would have been a hell of a lot easier than all this subterfuge. Clearly, I’m not good at it.
With a glare, I turn the conversation around on her. “What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you would stay away from the football parties.”
Not to mention, the football players.
Make it guys in general and we’ll call it a day.
Something flickers in her dark eyes before being snuffed out as she lifts a slender shoulder. “Do you remember my friend Madison?”
Nope. Not at all. I couldn’t pick her out of a lineup that consisted of two girls.
When I shake my head, she gives an impatient huff. “Anyway, her boyfriend is on the football team. I think his nickname is Sausage.”
Right.
The dude’s actual name is Kevin Anders. One of the first practices of his freshman season, he inhaled so many damn sausages for breakfast that he ended up barfing them up all over the turf. Coach Richards just shook his head and ordered him to clean up the mess. It doesn’t matter how many years—or decades—pass, he will never live down that poor decision which is exactly how he earned his nickname.
If the guy is lucky, Coach will send him onto the field during the last quarter for a snap or two if we’re up by enough points. From what I’ve gathered, he’s not working with a lot of brain cells. And he’s definitely not the type of guy I want hanging around my sister. Then again, I can’t think of any dudes I’d want her spending time with. Luckily, that hasn’t been a problem. If she’s messing around, it’s not in front of my face. And I’ve never caught wind of any gossip making the rounds on campus either.
“Did you come with friends?” I glance around, wondering how she ended up with Carson.
She waves a hand toward the kitchen. “They went to get something to drink. They’ll be back soon.”
Just what I need to deal with—a bunch of underage girls getting drunk off wine spritzers or some equally sugary drink. Cleaning up their puke will be the perfect cap to this disastrous evening.
I narrow my eyes. “Are they bringing a beverage back for you?”
Elle meets my stare head on. She isn’t easily intimidated. Not even by me. “Is that a roundabout way of asking if I plan to drink tonight?”
I give her a tight-lipped smile. “Yup, that’s exactly what I want to know, squirt.”
When a flash of grief fills her eyes, guilt swiftly slices through me.
She draws herself up to her full height before saying stiffly, “You know I don’t drink.”
No, she doesn’t. Not after what happened to our father. Elle doesn’t even like it when Mom has a bottle of wine in the house.
Fuck. This situation with Kira is making me lose my damn mind. I’m tempted to drag a hand across my face.
“Sorry,” I mumble, feeling like an asshole.
An awkward silence falls over the three of us. I’m about to apologize for a second time when a flash of wheat-colored hair catches my attention. Relief instantly floods through me.
“All right, gotta go.” I take two steps before swinging back around. My gaze locks on Carson as I stab a finger in my sibling’s direction. “Keep an eye on her.”
“I don’t need a babysitter!” she yells.
Since I’m not about to get drawn into an argument, I don’t bother with a response. Elle might not think she needs someone to look out for her, but she does. My sister is too damn pretty for her own good. When she showed up on campus freshman year, I had to knock more than a few skulls together before word caught on not to mess with her. I’m happy to report that the guys now steer clear. She’s no longer on their radar and that’s just the way I like it.