Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 120176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
I’d slept with three guys in my life, and was considered a slut.
“Damn, Daniels. Sometimes I think you’re too jaded to be my friend.”
I picked up a fork and threw it at Gavin.
The other guys laughed.
Kyle and I were at the jukebox, picking songs when a commotion sounded.
The hockey team came inside, bypassing the main room. Some went over to our tables, giving their hellos, shoulder pats, fist pounds, etcetera, but kept on into the sports room. They took up the entire length of the long table that ran the middle of that room.
Labrowski. Atwater. Barclay.
It was almost the whole team, minus a few, but then Cruz walked in. The commotion went up a whole notch. They’d just won both games against Minnesota, who was rated second in the nation, so it was a big deal. Cruz led the team in goals, and he opened up a third of the plays for the other players to score.
I hadn’t texted him. He hadn’t texted me either.
We both knew we were too far gone. It was sex or nothing for us, which I kinda hated, but I meant what I said. I didn’t want to sink back into sex and hide from moving forward. I felt for the first time in a long time that I could progress somewhere. Having friends who knew about my shit and still wanted to be friends was a big deal to me.
Right now, it was baby steps, but fuck. Cruz looked good, and he saw me as he walked past.
He didn’t stop.
They must’ve come from a practice because his hair was still wet from a shower, and he had the rough look in his face that he got from whipping around on the ice. He was wearing Grant West sweats, ones that hung low on his hips, and a Grant West hockey sweatshirt. It had his name and his jersey number on the back.
Girls were already descending on their table.
I tried not to let it bother me when I saw a girl plop down in the seat across from Cruz. I recognized her from hanging out at the hockey house. I didn’t know who her friends were, but she was friendly with all the guys.
I didn’t like her.
Or I didn’t like how she was smiling at Cruz, who was grinning back.
“Wait.” Kyle leaned back from the jukebox. “You and Styles. The pictures. I remember now. That’s who you’re with?”
“I’m not.” I turned back to the machine. We needed music, angry, fuck-you, heartbreak in the most toxic and messy way possible. That type of music. I hit a Nine Inch Nails song and then chose a bunch of Eminem ones. Those would do.
Kyle whistled, laughing under his breath at the same time. “I don’t know your story, but I am a hundred percent fascinated by you.”
“Shut up.”
“No, for real, I am. You’re cool, Daniels. Why the fuck haven’t you been coming to our football parties?”
I chose not to inform him that I had; he just hadn’t met me then.
Unknown number calls (15)
Voicemail (15)
33
CRUZ
Angela just left when Atwater took her seat. He’d been socializing, going from table to table instead of studying, which had been the original idea. The guys weren’t keen on the library, but I always got too distracted here. The games on the TVs behind us took most of the attention. Then there were the puck bunnies.
“You see Daniels over there with the football team?”
I grunted because I had. Kyle Ruiz had been all over her, or maybe not all over her, but he’d been giving her the look. Every guy recognized the look. Ruiz wanted to bang her.
She hadn’t come over to say hi, and I hadn’t gone over there either. We were in a contest of wills right now, who would hold out longest. But I caught how she was looking at me. She wanted me. The same went for me, but fuck her whole ‘let’s stop’ bullshit. I mean, it made sense. I should support it, but seriously, my dick had been hard this whole time.
“I’m so confused by you two. What are you doing?”
The question came from Atwater, but I knew every guy within hearing distance perked up.
I shrugged. “She’s got some stuff. I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Bad stuff? Like head shit?” Barclay pointed to his head.
Another shrug. “I wouldn’t say that, but it’s complicated.”
“You’re not going to tell us?” Labrowski leaned in.
I shook my head. “I’m not that guy, no.”
A few of them nodded, understanding.
Atwater’s eyes narrowed. “That’s bullshit. I want to know! You guys are not what you were in the beginning. That much is obvious, and you had her over to the house on Thursday in a hang-out capacity. I feel like I might die without having this closure. Give me closure, man.”
I frowned at him. “You need to chill.”