Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Oh, gimme.” I hold out my grabby hands.
He chuckles as he unzips the backpack and hands me an IPA. “You know why we’re best friends?”
“Lack of options?”
“No,” he drawls. “It’s because you’re the only girl who likes beer.”
“That’s not true. Tons of women drink beer. Your brewery has an entire line of beer dedicated to women with pink bottles.”
“Okay, you’re the only girl I know personally who likes beer.”
I laugh. “That’s not true either. You’re forgetting about Anya.”
“She doesn’t count.”
“She so counts.”
“Little sisters don’t count,” he hops up on the kitchen counter, effortlessly making himself at home. With a nonchalant air, he cracks open his beer can, taking a casual swig as if the counter were his personal throne. “Besides, I don’t want to be best friends with my little sister.”
I open my can, initiating a toast by tapping the aluminum against his. “Fair enough. So, about my article. I honestly don’t even know where to start. He wants an article that is really in depth. Googling some key phrases won’t be enough. ”
He twists his beer can in his hands and then shocks me by saying, “I can help you with it.”
Chapter Two
Paxton
While I take a long swig of my beer, I witness Hartford’s brown eyes widen to a point I didn’t realize was humanly possible.
“Excuse me?” Her expression resembles a scene straight out of a classic sitcom where reactions are larger than life.
“First, can you please blink or at least stop staring at me with your eyes so wide, it’s freaking me out.” I take another sip of beer, waiting for her to comply.
After what feels like an eternity, she blinks. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need your help.”
I raise an eyebrow as she crosses her arms. “You don’t need it or you don’t want it?”
“Paxton, that’s not the kind of relationship we have.”
Her auburn locks frame her face, a soft halo that accentuates her features, and I find myself captivated by the radiance in her light-brown eyes, which seem to sparkle with every smile. I’m well aware our relationship isn’t sexual, but the need to help her, to ease the overwhelmed aura around her, overlooks that part.
She’s always had my back, just like I’ve always had hers, even if she didn’t know.
It started in elementary school. She was more interested in climbing trees and playing soccer than wearing dresses and playing with dolls. The other girls constantly teased her about being a tomboy and hanging out with the boys.
So, I stepped in and struck a deal with the mean girls and told them if they started being nice to her, I would let them play with the boys too. Worked like a charm. Hartford made new friends, and the teasing stopped, all without her ever knowing.
Middle school brought on a new challenge. The boys took notice of Hartford, but not in a cute, flirtatious way. It was more like they were auditioning for the role of bullies in a teen movie. They put her phone number on the wall of the bathroom, drew inappropriate pictures and stuck them in her locker, anything to get under her skin. She didn’t want to tell on them for fear it would get worse, so I took it into my own hands. When I caught Travis Shaw shoving a picture into her locker, I threatened to beat his ass if he didn’t stop.
My role as Hartford’s secret protector worked until our freshman year of high school.
That’s when Hartford morphed from tomboy-next-door to knockout. Her long legs, slender waist, and bountiful tits seemed to appear overnight.
I remember my older brother, Shepherd, standing beside me and saying, “Damn, you’re gonna have some competition keeping your best friend to yourself.”
That’s when I noticed everyone staring at her. Girls were wide-eyed and guys were drooling. Shep was right, I would have competition, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.
I wanted her and not just as my best friend. And not just because of her looks. It’s always been easy between us. She’s the most real human I’ve ever known.
However, she went on date after date, had boyfriend after boyfriend, all while I faked a smile with each story she told me.
When I finally got the balls to tell her how I felt, she was dating some asshole. So, I kept my mouth shut, and realized she’d friend zoned me, and I haven’t ever tried getting out because I rely on her in my life too much.
What if we ruined everything?
So I watched from afar, the silent protector, ready to swoop in before anyone could hurt her.
Hartford never knew the truth about why I got into so many fights. She thought I had a short fuse, or football was stressing me out.
“I know that’s not the kind of relationship we have. But, no offense, I have a lot more experience in this than you,” I say, lifting a brow.