Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“I’m celebrating signing an endorsement deal.” Cullen’s grin widened as I eyed the dark liquid in his glass and lifted a brow. “Just Coke. Still a guilty pleasure.”
“So I hear.” There’d been a story about some party he was at months ago, mildly scandalous compared to other stories about him I’d caught from the tabloids. I couldn’t remember the details, though. Not as well as the scent of his cologne, anyway.
“You know better. My tests are always clean. Always have been, always will be. What everyone else does is none of my business.” He shrugged. I couldn’t challenge him on that. There were a lot of things about Cullen I could question, but his single-minded dedication to the sport wasn’t one of them, for better or worse. He might toe the line with his antics, but he’d never risk sabotaging his career with drugs or excessive booze.
“No entourage today?” Cullen was typically hounded by fans and paps anywhere he went. Not that I stalked him or anything; he just happened to pop up frequently on socials, and I liked to stay on top of football-related news. The media had kept him under a microscope for years, one of their favorite bad boys. Cullen seemed to court it at this point.
“I guess traveling home to see your sister doesn’t have the same panache as flying to Miami to party on yachts. Paps gave up before I even got to security.”
“How is she?” I took a testing sip of my vodka tonic. It tasted a little wrong in the morning hour, but the immediate warmth in my stomach was a welcome change from the knot in my gut over being in close proximity to Cullen.
“Good. Same old Charity. Just a little older.” She and Cullen had been close in college—she’d visited him several times and was the only member of his family I’d ever hung out with—so I was glad to hear that still seemed to be the case. “Caught some of the news about your brother and Ramsey. Guess that worked out pretty well for them.”
“It did. They’re doing great.” I sucked down another third of my drink, trying to drown the pit in my stomach. Fuck this conversation. I wasn’t sure there were any safe topics with Cullen, but this one? Probably among the most dangerous, and I was almost certain that in the abrupt silence that followed, he felt the tension between us balloon outward as much as I did. I definitely should’ve just headed to my gate.
“It’s good to see you,” he said after a beat, offering a wan smile. Yeah, he definitely felt it.
I gave him a vague nod of acknowledgment. Seeing him was a lot of things, but I wasn’t sure I’d classify it as good.
We both turned our attention to the safety of the screens behind the bar, and I commented on Kansas City’s new QB. The next ten minutes were peppered with attempts to keep another awkward silence at bay. I remembered when it used to be comfortable, when we could sit next to each other and not say a damn thing, the secret connection between us an electric thrum beneath quiet anticipation. I decided I’d stay long enough to finish my drink, then offer him a polite handshake and make my exit. Hopefully, we wouldn’t run into each other again for at least another five years. Preferably a decade.
I cast a sidelong glance at Cullen as he rattled the ice in his glass, then sucked the rest of the Coke down. He eyed me right back, running his fingers over his jaw speculatively. I’d found him attractive the second I laid eyes on him at training camp our freshman year at Southern U, though I wouldn’t have called it attraction back then, would’ve just said he was the kind of guy who made you take notice. A little rough around the edges. Scruffy-jawed and angular, eyes that darkened with his temper.
He was a full-blown looker now, with wavy honey-gold strands hanging loose, untamed as he was. It’d been short in college, and I’d never been into the long-hair thing that seemed to be so popular now until this very second. Next to him, the neat, basic haircut that I’d had since the beginning of time, my plaid shirt, and jeans made me feel old and out-of-date.
As I sat there, all I could hope was that he wasn’t about to engage in some kind of “way back when” conversation. It was way too fucking late for a come to Jesus between us. I definitely needed to go.
“I’m gonna hit the restroom,” Cullen said, his tone gravelly and confidential, like a secret spilled in a dark corner.
The farewell died on my tongue.
I knew that look in his eyes, maybe more familiar to me than anything else about him and one of the things I’d wished a hundred times I could truly forget. The way they darkened when he narrowed them slightly at the corners, the provocative challenge within them. Jesus, it still got a rise out of me.