Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“Ugh,” she moans. “I’m so tired.”
Yeah, same. My body is beaten down from all the practice and conditioning. I’m drained from waking up early and going to class. I’m drained because I’ve been eating my meals on the fly and haven’t had decent home-cooked food since I was home with my mama this summer.
I don’t tell her any of this.
Complaining isn’t my style.
“Did you at least eat?” The last thing I want to do is take her to a party when she has an empty stomach; not sure Schneider will have any food, and he sure as shit won’t want me digging through his cabinets.
In fact, some people keep actual locks on them so when they throw parties, their stashes don’t get eaten—but that’s not the point. The point is, I should feed Ryann if she’s hungry.
Don’t need a drunken mess on my hands later.
“I had a burger at work.” She pauses. “And fries.” Pause. “And a few chicken tenders.”
I shoot her a side-eye. “Do you dip those tenders in anything?”
She nods. “Ranch, usually.”
“What about the fries?”
“Ketchup and mayonnaise.”
I nod.
“Why?”
“Just seein’ if we’re compatible in other ways.”
“And what are your findings?”
“Yup.”
Ryann looks out the window as we make our way to Schneider’s off-campus dump—I mean, house. It’s a big home but run-down, and I’ll be honest, no way in hell would you catch me sleeping there. Place should be condemned, but Schneider loves to throw parties, and you can’t very well do that in a house that’s decent.
It would get destroyed.
None of these kids have any respect.
Kids.
Ha.
Young adults, technically, but still, the majority of them act like assholes.
Present company not included.
Schneider doesn’t live far, but I couldn’t very well walk there if I was picking up Ryann, could I?
Too cold.
I park in the driveway when we arrive, party already in full swing if the students spilling out onto the porch are any indication.
Beside me, Ryann groans.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just…I haven’t been to a party in a long time.”
I can sympathize. “It’ll be fine. We’ll stick together, make an appearance for appearances’ sake, and bail in an hour. Deal?”
Slowly, her head moves up and down in agreement. “Do you think we should come up with a few more rules? Just in case?”
“In case what?”
She grins in the dark. “In case you get drunk and get handsy.”
I bark out a laugh. “Handsy? With you?”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, you ass.” Ryann scoffs. “I meant in case…I don’t know—just in case.”
“What kind of rules?”
“One drink maximum? So we don’t get drunk.” She hesitates. “And maybe…no flirting with anyone else inside. It would look bad if you’re trying to convince people you’re dating me.”
“Are you worried I’m gonna flirt with other chicks? What about you flirting with other dudes? That wouldn’t be cool.”
She snorts. “Trust me, I’m not going to flirt with any other dudes.”
“Good. Then we agree, no flirting.”
“With other people,” she clarifies.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, yeah—’cause you love flirtin’ with me so damn much.”
She tosses her hair. “I don’t know. Get a drink in me and I might forget myself for a few minutes.”
My arm goes up, resting on the back of her seat. “Any other rules you wanna lay down before we’re miserable for the next hour?”
Ryann nibbles at her lower lip. “Mmmm…I’d say no touching, but you’ll probably have to at some point to keep up the ruse.”
“Right. Likewise.”
“Right.”
A long, tense, silent stretch fills the truck before Ryann blows out a puff of breath.
“Well. Guess I’ll take this off before we go inside so it doesn’t get lost.”
She twists her body in the passenger seat, zipper whirring down to the hem and coming undone. Wordlessly, she shimmies out of it.
I stare.
An expanse of collarbone and cleavage is on display, and I have no idea where to fucking look. Granted, it’s not as if she’s naked—she’s wearing a black, off-the-shoulder top—bodysuit?—tucked into high-waisted jeans.
I mean. I’ve seen bare shoulders and tits before, but…
Whatever.
I glance away.
Indifferent, obviously.
Her tits are of no interest to me.
“I should take my jacket off, too,” I rumble, shrugging mine off in the same way and tossing it to the back seat where it will probably be forgotten until the next time I’m looking for it.
When Ryann opens the door, I notice her shiver, the cold air hitting me at the same time.
Several steps ahead of me, she slows.
Falters.
“I don’t want to walk in first.” Her hand goes to her belly, flattening. “I’m kind of nervous. Don’t judge me.”
Nodding, I take the lead, conscious that she’s behind me so I don’t lose her. I’d most likely take her hand if we were dating in real life ’cause that seems like something a boyfriend would do, but we’re not dating, so I don’t.
Friends? Eh.
Debatable.
It’s fair to say it takes us a considerable amount of time to actually get inside the house; the number of people saying hello or wanting to say hello and wanting to chat drags it out for-fucking-ever.