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)
“Yo,” Garrett crowed as he burst through the side door. “Ellis said you went this way. Man, you need to get back in here. I’m dying. Rams is so fucking ripped. It’s been forever since he’s been this hammered, and you need to witness this shit so we can rag the hell out of him tomorrow.” He paused, registering Cullen’s presence. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt nostalgia time.”
“It’s loud as fuck in there,” I blurted in weak explanation.
Garrett cocked his head and gave me a funny look.
“Alright, old man.” Cullen snorted softly and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Houston’s filling me in about where I should look for a place.” His smile was tight around the lie but his delivery smooth.
“Ahh, sweet.” Garrett clapped him on the shoulder. “Hopefully, he told you not to buy in Cherry Hills Village. Way overpriced.”
“I have no idea where to buy or if I even will. Maybe I’ll rent. I just know I’m not into long-term hotel stays at this point.”
Garrett glanced between us, his grin widening. “You should totally stay with Houston in the meantime, then. That’s what I did when I first got back. He’s got an extra room. He’s absolutely shit for a roommate, obviously, but—”
“Cullen wouldn’t want to stay with me, trust me,” I interrupted.
“Oh, now you speak for me?” Cullen’s voice carried an edge I was certain only I could hear. To all outward appearances, the crooked grin and his casual tone sounded amused.
“Houston likes to speak for anyone he can.” Garrett nodded, not helping a damn thing. “Not just you, bro.” Goddamn, I loved my brother, but sometimes I hated him.
“Tell me about it.”
“How sweet. Team bonding already in effect.” I needed to get out of here. Clearly, my duty was done.
“Oh, so you know him better than I thought,” Garrett continued, unruffled by my interjection. “Houston hardly talks about college ball, and back when he was still doing it, we didn’t talk as much because I was busy chasing girls and dick.”
“Something else you two have in common,” I pointed out.
Cullen cut me a sharp look, and I was almost certain he made a noise low in his throat akin to a growl. Then his lips tipped up in a wolfish smile I didn’t trust. “That’s not a bad idea, though. What do you say, Houston? Maybe I could crash at your place until I get my bearings here? For old time’s sake?”
The glint in his eye was anything but amused now. It was penetrating, challenging, calculating, and I reacted the way I had a hundred times before to that look. With a mixture of heat in my groin and bullheadedness that seemed genetically encoded, I smirked back at him. “That’s a great idea.” It was an idea on par with boarding the Titanic, but I’d call his bluff. “For old time’s sake.”
“Awesome.” Garrett beamed. “We can all grab dinner one night, and Cullen can give me the real lowdown on Whitt. You know we’re up against the Royals in a couple of weeks, and he’s not letting any-fucking-thing through this season.” Whitt had been a cornerback at Southern U before transferring to Franklin U after freshman year and was probably the best in the country. “Houston says he’s pretty chill. I think he’s just being diplomatic.”
“He’s being diplomatic.” Cullen grinned as I cut a look sideways at him. Whitt had been okay, as far as I remembered. Tucker seemed to disagree, but that was between them.
It didn’t matter either way, though. There wasn’t going to be a cozy dinner, and there definitely wasn’t going to be a Cullen Atwood staying in my spare room. I held up my phone. “Let’s go find Ramsey and make a highlights reel for him to enjoy tomorrow.”
Garrett yanked the door open, and we followed him inside, Cullen tugging on my sleeve and making me pause long enough for him to speak in my ear. “So should I bring my stuff over tomorrow?”
I flipped him off and kept walking, knowing I’d be thinking about the former comment for the rest of the night.
3
CULLEN
Houston turned me into a fucking idiot. That was my story, and I was sticking to it. Plus, it was like ninety percent true…okay, maybe it was more like fifty-fifty, but close enough.
It wasn’t fair to put all the blame on him. I made a lot of mistakes when he wasn’t in my life, but I was clearly on a roll, making even more since the second I saw him in the SkyAir Members’ Club.
I should never have gone into that bathroom.
I sure as shit shouldn’t have gone into the club that same night.
And I shouldn’t have asked to talk to McRae last night. The whole time, I’d told myself that I needed to clear the air. I didn’t owe him an excuse for why I’d ended up in a gay bar after he fucked me. Hell, he probably hadn’t wanted one, but I’d felt the dumb need to give him one anyway. At least, that’s what I’d told myself I was doing, but really, I just got a lot of terrible ideas anytime McRae and I shared the same space. Something shifted in the air, and I was done for. It was an issue—one I planned to work on because I’d hoped he would kiss me last night, and I’d had no business thinking that. See? Fucking idiot.