Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I couldn’t wait until we were alone.
“You’re killing me, Adrián,” he whispered. “You’re dangerous.”
“I’m not apologizing for it. I like making your heart beat faster.”
“It does. Trust me.”
I grinned my cockiest grin and leaned in for a kiss right on those pillowy lips of his, but a gasp nearby struck between us like another bolt of lightning. We jerked apart just in time to see Brayden and his mother standing in the entrance of the diner.
Chapter Thirteen
Adrián
“You think they saw something?”
The flame of the candle lighter was the only thing signaling Simeon’s location in the room. It’d gone from gloomy to pitch-black in the house not long after we’d returned from the long walk back to the apartment. With only the flashlights on our phones, we’d dug out the devotional candles my mother had stocked one of the cupboards with—all of patron saints. Jesus was literally showing us the way.
“I don’t know.” Simeon lit the entire twelve pack and picked up two. “Bedroom or living room?”
“Bedroom. I want to look outside.”
“You like storm watching?”
“Usually, but now I just feel like I need to see out the window in case the damn river floods.”
“Mmm . . .”
I trailed behind Simeon. He found his way in the dark better than I did, even though it was my apartment. I chalked it up to him being collected in an emergency whereas I was sweating the fact that a snotty kid had seen me macking on a dude. Neither Brayden nor Cheryl, his mom, had said a word, but I had the creeping feeling that they’d been gaping in shock and not just surprise wouldn’t leave me alone.
After awkwardly explaining we’d gone on the quest to find him at the urging of his dad, and our own concern, everyone had fallen silent. No eye contact, no smart comments from Brayden, and not even careful questioning from his mom. Total fucking zipsville.
“I think they saw us.”
Simeon exhaled through his nose. “Do you really think Brayden would have been able to keep his mouth shut had he seen anything?”
“Okay, that’s a good point.”
“I know. I’m much smarter than you. Just be pretty and look at the candles.”
The candles did look pretty cool. My mother hadn’t given them to me for the aesthetic, but stretching out on my bed with crashing waves and beating rain as ambiance and flickering candlelight all around was calming. I let the sounds wash over me and let my eyes unfocus while gazing into one of the flames. Or, I tried for a few minutes. Then I looked at Simeon, who’d settled beside me.
“What the hell would we do if he saw us?”
Simeon’s sigh was louder this time and less patient.
“Hey buddy, don’t forget you only got outed a few months ago. I bet you were shitting bricks when you first found out about the story.”
“Oh, I was. I was shitting bricks from the moment that asshole bragged that he was going to kill my career with that video.”
“Whoa, he told you to your face? I kinda figured you just caught them recording.”
“Nope.” In the shadows, I saw Simeon slowly shaking his head. “And you know what really sets my soul on fire? He did all that because he’s a Predators fanboy.”
I sat up straight. “No way.”
“Yup. That fool boy went through all that trouble to entrap me in a bathroom after finessing me all damn night just because he hates the Barons.”
“Ave Maria.” All I could do was shake my head and wonder what the hell was wrong with people. “Some people really take this rivalry to the next level, don’t they?”
“Yeah, they do. But we all kind of egg it on.”
“How you figure?”
Simeon laughed quietly. “Think about how we all act on social media. Even at games—how many times have both our teams been flagged for unnecessary roughness? Football is already a fanatical type of sport, but then you add in how much we hate each other? Shit . . .”
“At least it’s not like in Europe where fans be burning shit down and getting into huge brawls after matches.”
“Boo, our fans do that shit too. The media just acts like it’s no big deal because football is everything.”
I leaned against the headboard and returned my gaze to the candle. There was no wisdom to be found in Jesus’s illuminated face. When lightning once again struck outside, I told myself it was the Holy Ghost telling me to take responsibility for my part in this mess.
“You know, there was a time when I swore us playing up our hatred for you guys was directly connected to our rival games always selling out.”
“You’re probably right. They even make merchandise specifically for it. My mama owns a “Barons Own the Predators” jersey.”
“Oh man! My mother hates all that shit.”
Simeon shook his head, smiling. “Not mine. Joanne Boudreaux is queen of trash talk and loves her some rivalries. She makes big dinners whenever our teams play and throws a party. If we lose, the party upgrades to dancing and everyone pretends the game was never on.”