Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Eh. If you ask Dad, Tom Brady cheated.”
Levi cocks his head. “Yet, your brother is named after him.”
“I think after naming me Peyton, they thought they had to stick with the football theme when it came to Brady. And no one wants to name their kid after Brett Favre.”
“Who?”
“Exactly.”
“So, where exactly are you planning to have this amazing yet pressure-filled college football career?”
I don’t answer him right away. I get caught on his hand that reaches inside his jeans and pulls out a cigarette. Oh. Nope. That’s a joint.
“Pey?”
I shake it off and meet his stare. No one calls me Pey except my family, so it’s weird but also kinda cool to hear it from someone who’s taken it upon himself to give me a nickname. “Uh, we haven’t decided yet.”
Levi puts the joint to his plump lips and lights it. “We?” The joint bounces in his mouth as he talks, and then he wraps his lips around it and inhales.
“Brady and me. And our dads, I guess. They want me to go to USC, but Brady doesn’t want to go there.”
“Ah, West Coast. I wish I could go to a school at the beach.”
“Brady and I think Franklin U in San Luco would be a good fit for both of us, but we haven’t told our dads that yet. We are not looking forward to that day.”
“You and your brother do everything together?”
“Yep. It kinda comes with the territory of having the last names Miller and Talon.”
“Why do you have different last names?” he asks.
“It’s a long story.” One I hate explaining because it’s nobody’s damn business.
“I haven’t got anywhere to be.”
It’s a pain getting into it because most people don’t understand, but there’s a method to my dads’ madness. “Everyone assumes Shane Miller is my biological father because I have his last name, but that’s not true at all. I have Talon DNA but am a Miller by name. It’s the opposite for Brady. Our dads wanted us to have a piece of each of them. I also think they were under the impression no one would get confused or even care. They were wrong.”
“Want a hit?” Levi holds out the joint.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Come on. Football season is over.”
“You say that like there’s an actual football season in my house. Every day is football season.” Every minute. Every second.
“Do your dads drug test you?” he asks.
“Well, no. But … I’ve never done it before.”
Levi leans in. “There’s a first time for everything. Why don’t you live a little? Now’s the time to do it.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, inhaling deep.
He keeps moving closer, so close that I don’t want to say no at this point because I don’t want him to move away. My gut flips again and fills with butterflies to the point that when the word “Okay” falls from my mouth, I don’t know if it’s to the weed or him.
I’d probably take both at this point.
Levi moves in, his lips almost touching mine, and I instinctually open for him. He exhales at the same time I breathe in.
I’m trapped, looking into his gray eyes, wanting to move that tiny bit closer and press my lips to his to see if I react the same way to him that I do to girls. My heart thunders in my ears, but unlike when I was inside trying to find an escape, I want to savor this and embrace it. I want to feel the thrill thrumming through my veins.
But Levi moves away, not closer, and glances over my shoulder, back inside at the party.
We both speak at the same time.
“If you need to get back inside—”
“Want to finish this in my room?”
I don’t know if he means the joint or more. Either way, the answer is yes.
When he stands, I swing my legs back over the railing and follow him. He doesn’t go toward the door I came out of, where I can see the party still in full swing, but to a different entrance at the other end of the house that opens to a hallway.
We take the first left, entering a room with royal blue walls, arched windows that overlook the lake, and the most modern furniture I’ve seen in this house so far. Every other room I’ve been in has had wooden and ornate things that look like they’re from the 1800s.
He goes over to the window and opens a panel. “Not supposed to smoke in here.” He lifts his chin for me to join him, and I’m quick to obey.
Levi takes another drag, and I step closer, wanting him to repeat what he did outside, but he doesn’t. He lifts the joint between us instead.
Hmm, guess that answers my question. This isn’t a more … thing. It’s just the pot.
I take it from him and lift it to my lips, sucking in as much as I can. Oh, shit, bad idea. It would be embarrassing to cough all over him, so I take a step back and hold it in until my eyes water and I can’t help breathing out. Luckily, the stinging and tickle in my throat is weaker, and I only let out a single cough instead of the string of barking trying to escape me.