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)
Garrett and Ramsey left while Tucker and I finished getting dressed. He hefted his bag over his shoulder and said, “I’ll walk out with you.”
“Thanks.”
We headed toward the door. “You ready for our first game this weekend?” he asked.
“You know it.” I really wanted to bring home the W. I probably needed to. The Rush sure as shit weren’t going to keep me around if we didn’t win.
“Heard you’re a bit of a cocky SOB,” Tucker said, making me chuckle. I appreciated people like him who cut to the chase and didn’t beat around the bush.
“Aren’t we all?”
“You got that right, man.” He tugged his phone out. “What’s your number?”
I appreciated him trying to make me feel welcome, so I gave him my digits. Tucker immediately texted me so I had his, too. “Wanna go grab some food or something?”
“Can’t today. Got someone to do. Maybe next time.”
“Someone and not something?”
He waggled his brows before heading for his SUV. We said our goodbyes, and I jumped into the car I’d rented until mine arrived.
I hated hotels.
I wondered what Houston was doing.
No, no I didn’t. I didn’t care what Houston was doing. At all.
Total lie.
I got to my suite and paced around a bit. Don’t text him, don’t text him, don’t text him.
I ordered room service since everyone in Denver had plans to have sex today except me.
Don’t text him, don’t text him, don’t text him.
But then, why had I gotten his number if I wasn’t going to at least say hi? I was a friendly guy like that.
Me: You getting that room all ready for me?
The response came through almost right away.
Houston: I’m going to kill my brother.
I laughed at how he automatically knew I’d gotten his number from Garrett.
Me: Is that why you replied so quickly? He messaged to give you a heads-up and you were waiting for me to text?
That would get under his skin. It really was one of my favorite things to do. Houston liked it, though. At least he had back in the day.
Houston: You’re not moving in with me.
Me: What’s your address?
Houston: Did you not hear me?
Me: Well, I can’t hear words typed on a screen, but I did see them. I just chose to ignore you. You’re the one who said yes.
He hadn’t expected me to call him on his bluff, but I had, and now I wasn’t backing down.
Houston: Just to get G to leave it alone. I’m going to stop replying now.
There was a knock on the door, so I set my cell down to go answer it. I tipped the room service delivery guy, who noticed who I was. He had a million questions, and all I could do was try and figure out how I was going to reply to Houston. Still, I answered him, signed an autograph, and shot the shit for a few minutes.
It felt like for-fucking-ever before he left, and when he did, I wasn’t surprised to see another text.
Houston: No smart-ass reply?
My chest warmed. He could have left it where he had, but he’d texted again. Why would he do that if he didn’t really want to talk to me?
Me: I was busy.
Houston: Let me guess, quick trip to a gay bar to hook up? You seem to like doing that after we talk.
“Fuck.” Why was I such an idiot? I didn’t know why I’d done what I had. Sometimes I just didn’t think before I acted…or I didn’t want to let myself think, so I stopped before I could.
Not letting myself stress too much about it, I clicked to call him. The longer it rang, the faster my pulse went, wondering if he was going to ignore me. Finally, he answered, “What?”
“Listen, I know we talked a little about it last night, but I didn’t fuck anyone that night.”
“I don’t care if you did.”
Not even a little bit? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t let myself. “I was going to screw a guy I met…cute little twink, but he wasn’t what I wanted.” He could take that however he wanted to.
“Cullen…” There was warning in his voice.
“What? It’s true. Like I said, it was frustration. I was all up in my head. I don’t know what it is about you, but you get under my skin.”
“Sounds like I’m an infection.”
In a way, he was, and I couldn’t seem to find the cure. “You know how I get when I can’t shut my thoughts off.”
“Self-destructive?”
I couldn’t say he was wrong. “It’s been a long time…things didn’t end well. Shit just got twisted up seeing you again—hence why we ended up in the bathroom—and then I pulled a typical Cullen move. I’m over it now. Temporary insanity has vanished; now I just want to annoy the shit out of you and win some fucking football games. I’m going to do stuff like stick your hand in cold water when you’re sleeping so you pee the bed.”