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)
Whitt’s gaze became more discerning. “The two of you were close back at Southern. I always kinda wondered if you two had a thing—”
“We didn’t,” I cut him off. Technically, we hadn’t been together when Whitt was there. That came later.
He put his hands up. “Easy, tiger. Just speculating. We all played football together. Not out to mess anything up for you. Or him. I was just curious.”
“Sorry,” I grumbled and took another sip of my drink. “We get a lot of questions like that. Media scrutiny and stuff. Puts me on edge. Thought I was done with that.”
“You won’t be so long as you’re with him or working with LA. That’s straight-up facts.”
I’d considered that, of course, but then dismissed it. As long as we rolled with the original plan, eventually, the scrutiny on my love life, at least as it related to Cullen, would cease, and I’d fade into the background. “Yeah, I’m aware. I can handle it, though.”
He nodded. “I know you can. You were always good under pressure.” Except when that pressure involved anything related to Cullen. “The Rush seems like a good fit for him, yeah? He gets along with all the guys? There are a few on there…” Whitt trailed off with a shake of his head, but he’d piqued my curiosity.
“You still butthurt over Tucker getting drafted to the Rush instead of you?” I laughed. The man could hold a grudge longer than anyone I’d ever met. Well, besides me. Whitt had really wanted the Rush for his rookie year, and a lot of people thought that was where he’d end up, too. LA snatching him up had caught everyone by surprise, but no one more than Whitt himself. The entitled fucker thought just because he wanted something, he’d automatically get it. “You should be thanking your lucky fucking stars every day you wake up. LA’s one of the winningest teams of the last decade, you shit.”
Whitt cracked up. “Fair point. But what’s football without a good rivalry? Gets the ratings, too. Gets my face onscreen, gets me more sponsorships.”
“Like you didn’t have enough money before you got signed.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s nice to know you’re still the arrogant prick you’ve always been.” I’d never had a beef with him the way others did; I just accepted Whitt for what he was and suspected underneath all the entitlement and ego, there was a heart in there somewhere. Maybe.
We spent the next hour reminiscing about freshman year at Southern, and then he called it a night since he had practice the next morning.
At the hotel, I stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the twinkling lights of the city, trying to imagine myself there. I could see it in a way I hadn’t been able to see Dallas or Phoenix. Flying back to Denver for a visit would be easy, too.
I opened up my messages to text Cullen and found one already there from him asking about the interview, along with one in my group chat from Ramsey and Garrett asking the same. I replied to both, then clicked back over to Cullen’s.
Cullen: Good deal. They’re going to want you.
Me: Hard to say. Interview went well, but I think they have reservations since you’re in the picture. Think I won’t want to come.
Cullen: I can break up with you tomorrow. Start throwing your shit out the windows, make a big scene.
Me: Throw my own stuff out of my own apartment?
Cullen: Next-level PR move. The tabloids will be all over it.
Me: Not sure how that would help me in any way.
Cullen: Probably wouldn’t, but you have to admit it’d be entertaining AF.
Me: For you.
Me: I had dinner with Whitt.
Cullen: He still an arrogant prick?
I had to laugh at the echo of my earlier comment to him.
Me: Oh yeah, but it was good to catch up.
Cullen: He hit on you?
Me: Seriously?
Cullen: Yeah.
Me: Lol. No.
Cullen: Anyone else hit on you?
Me: Are you okay?
Cullen: As your “boyfriend” isn’t it my job to be jealous?
Me: Not in a healthy relationship. Or so I hear.
Cullen: Hmmm. So are you saying our fake relationship is toxic? Shit, might be time for some couples counseling.
Me: Can you imagine us in couples counseling?
Cullen: We’d get kicked out. “They’re fucked.”
Me: Yep.
Me: You’re not actually jealous are you?
Cullen: Yeah…
I waited, eyes narrowing as the bubbles onscreen continued to bounce, and not sure why his answer was important since it was likely gonna be BS anyway.
Cullen: Of 75 degrees and sunny skies. If you run into Lily there, tell her I said hello.
He followed that with an angel emoji. Typical Cullen.
Me: Funny, Whitt told me to tell you hello on her behalf.
I was lying, but I knew it would rankle him, which made it worth it.
Cullen responded with a middle-finger emoji, and I tossed aside my phone to peel my shirt over my head. Tomorrow’s flight back to Denver was gonna come early, and I was pretty sure that prickle of anticipation in my stomach was for being able to sleep in my own bed again. It had nothing to do with seeing Cullen.