Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Whether it’s your heart”—he lightly touches my chest, and a hot shiver rolls through me—“or, you know, getting yourself killed by driving on the wrong side of the road.”
“The right side,” I correct.
But I’m smiling. I reach up and touch his cheek, sweeping my fingers along the stubble dotting his jawline.
“I like how you care,” I say shyly.
A screech suddenly tears through the stadium.
“You can’t be here,” a voice chides over the loudspeaker. “Hurry it up, you two.”
Jack shoots a middle finger over his shoulder as his mouth brushes mine in another kiss.
“You rebel,” I tease against his lips.
After one last peck, he quickly lifts me to my feet. “Not really. In fact, we better get the hell out of here. Coach’ll have my head.”
We make a run for it, sprinting out through the player tunnel like the cops are chasing us.
An hour later, we’re at a pub with Jack’s teammates to celebrate their win, but I beg off early because I have a bunch of course readings I need to get off my plate. Besides, the rugby boys are noisier than a marching band and a bit much when they’re drunk. So I leave him with his friends and slide into an Uber.
Halfway to Notting Hill, I get a text from Nate.
Despite having spent the entire day with Jack, my heart still skips a beat seeing Nate’s name on my phone. Knowing he’s thinking about me.
Nate: Popped into the library at Trinity College today to photograph it for you. The boys thought I’d gone mad.
Several pictures pop up in succession, each one making me drool. Oh sweet Lord. This library. It’s perfection. Heaven. I actually feel a tingling between my legs.
Me: I have never been more turned on in my life.
Nate: Yeah? Hold on. I got more.
Three more pics appear. One is a close-up of a page from the Book of Kells. The other two are panoramic shots of the Long Room.
Me: Stop. Please. I’m in an Uber and I don’t think he’ll appreciate me moaning out loud.
Nate: Getting you that hot, yeah? One sec. Got another for you.
When the next image appears, I give a sharp intake of breath. Which draws the attention of my driver.
“All right back there?”
“Fine,” I reply through the mound of cotton now stuffed in my mouth.
I can scarcely breathe. Nate just sent a picture of his long bassist fingers curled around the very obvious bulge in his faded jeans.
Me: OMG. That’s a dick pic!
Nate: Nah. It’s dick pic adjacent. At best.
Nate: You’re welcome.
Me: Cheeky boy.
Nate: Gotta go. Sound check in 20 minutes.
Me: Break a leg at the show later.
Biting my lip, I set my phone on the seat beside me. It occurs to me that I went from making out with Jack on the rugby field to flirting with Nate via text in the span of two hours.
This is…not good.
I never understood how some girls could date more than one guy at once. But now…I think I get it.
Jack and Nate are so different, yet they each complement me completely. Jack’s become one of my best friends. He makes me laugh and we have fun doing even ordinary, mundane things together. With Jack, everything is easy. But Nate… Nate draws a raw passion out of me I’ve never experienced with anyone else. He’s spontaneous and unencumbered and possesses a sense of adventure that calls to that same instinct in me.
But I can’t be with both of them.
Right?
Come on, Abbey.
Okay, fine. I can’t have them both. Eventually I’ll need to make a choice.
The problem is I genuinely don’t know who I’d pick.
34
WITH ONLY A COUPLE WEEKS LEFT IN THE SEMESTER BEFORE holiday break, I’ve become a near permanent resident in the library. My Tulley research project isn’t due until the end of spring term, so that’s resting on the back burner for now, a fact that’s caused me to dodge various invitations to meet up with Ben Tulley, who’s apparently back from Ibiza. Between writing essays and studying for exams, I can’t squeeze a single extraneous distraction into my schedule. Well, except for Jack, who’s been proving to be the best kind of distraction.
At first, our hookups were this little secret we carried around the house, acknowledged in winks and lingering glances. But then, when we weren’t found out, we started to test the boundaries of what we could get away with. Sneaking off to make out while Lee and Jamie sit unaware in the next room. Stealing a kiss or two when no one else is home. Quietly fooling around in my room after everyone’s gone to bed.
We’re still treading well clear of that hard red line, never going past third base. Somehow, without speaking about it, we both seem to understand that actually having sex would irreparably change the dynamic. If we take that next step and it ends badly, there’d be no way we would both stay under the same roof. I know I couldn’t stand it.