Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Even though Crosby’s name isn’t on the rental agreement, his ass is parked on the velour recliner shoved in the corner of the living room. He spends more time here than he does at the place he and Andrew share a couple of blocks away. His roommate is one of those guys who is constantly in the gym, pumping iron. Rumors have always circulated that he takes SARMS, which is just a healthier version of steroids. As far as the NCAA is concerned, it’s still an illegal substance and therefore a big no-no. Obviously, he doesn’t take cycles during the season. One positive drug test and Coach Richards would boot his ass from the team.
Crosby glances at me before his gaze darts back to the television screen and the game he’s playing. “You just work out?”
“Yeah.” Normally, after lifting, I feel energized. All those endorphins are flowing, which puts me in a good headspace. That, however, is not the case tonight. In fact, it’s more like the opposite. I’m worked up and out of sorts. Barely am I holding it together.
“Bray returned about thirty minutes ago.”
“Yeah, I stayed behind and ran the track,” I mutter, not really paying attention to the conversation. I can’t stop thinking about Elle and that fucking guy.
Know what I should have done?
Jumped in my truck and followed them.
Another thought crashes through my head. What if he’s not taking her to dinner at a restaurant?
What if they’re headed to his house and—
“Dude, what’s the deal? Why are you pacing?”
Huh?
I grind to a halt and realize that Crosby is right. I’m walking the entryway outside the living room.
Before I can come up with a plausible excuse, Brayden jogs down the staircase. His dark hair is damp from his shower and he’s wearing fresh clothes.
He points to the dining room before hitting the last tread. “Asher ordered a few pizzas. After that lift, I’m starving. I need some carbs.” He smacks my belly.
Wordlessly, I stare after him as he disappears into the kitchen.
I don’t know what to do.
Should I tell him that Elle took off with her professor?
The dude from the coffee shop. The very same one who gave her a lift home after that disastrous party?
About an hour ago, he’d asked if I thought something was going on between them. At the time, I hadn’t been sure. Now, however, I’d say the likelihood was high. If Brayden finds out, he’ll tear this town apart with his bare hands until he finds her. And if that happens, Elle will know I tipped him off. That girl is already pissed and won’t give me the time of day. Her brother going off half-cocked and beating her professor to a bloody pulp will only make matters worse.
But I can’t allow one of her instructors to take advantage of her. Especially since I know she doesn’t have much experience in that department. The thought of that asshole laying his hands on her—on what’s mine—drives me fucking nuts.
God dammit! I really should have followed them. Better yet, I should have thrown her kicking and screaming over my shoulder before tossing her into my truck. Then I wouldn’t be in this mess. My mind wouldn’t be spinning with every possible outcome tonight could have.
I swear a blue streak under my breath.
You know what?
I can’t sit around here with my thumb shoved up my ass. I need to do something. That realization has me spinning around and stalking toward the front door.
“Hey,” Brayden shouts from the dining room where he’s busy loading down his plate with pepperoni pizza. “Where are you going? Thought you just got back?”
I glance over my shoulder and meet his confused gaze. There is no way I can reveal the truth. “Umm, yeah. I did, but there’s something I need to take care of.”
A knowing smirk spreads across his face. “Maybe you should shower first.”
I plow a hand through my hair. He’s right. After that run, I’m a sweaty mess. Five minutes won’t make much of a difference. I swing around and beeline for the staircase, taking them two at a time.
“Trust me, whomever you’re in such a hurry to take care of will thank me for it.”
A humorless laugh bubbles up in my throat.
That’s doubtful.
Chapter Sixteen
Elle
I shift on the padded chair and glance around the tiny Italian restaurant. This is my second year at Western and I’m familiar with a lot of eateries in the area, but this is one I’ve never been to before. In fact, until ten minutes ago, I had no idea the place even existed. That’s probably because it has more of a romantic vibe to it with the dim lighting and red votives decorating each white, linen-covered table. The wait staff is outfitted in crisp, white button-downs with black pants. Thick, black aprons cover their lower halves. It feels upscale and yet intimate.