Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Yep. Should I bring steaks again, or are we doing burgers?” I’d started hanging out more with my teammates last season. Initially, it had started as a way for me to distract myself from thinking about Tucker, which I guessed it still was in a way, but over time, I’d started genuinely looking forward to grabbing beers with the guys or cramming in an extra workout, and it’d become a near weekly thing unless we were all toast from an especially brutal practice. Tucker’s enthusiasm about my social life had struck me as odd at first, but now it seemed…almost sweet. The dude put out strong caretaker vibes, loved his crew of Ramsey, G, and Cullen and wanted me to have the same. I would probably always be more introverted than him, but I couldn’t deny that it was nice to have a crew of guys to hang out with.
“I’m thinking burgers, but if your fancy ass wants to spring for steaks again, I ain’t gonna complain.”
“We all know how much your contract renewed for,” I scoffed back. “You’re the one that needs to be buying the steaks.” Not a damn one of us on the Royals was hurting for money, but it was still fun to give each other shit about it at every opportunity, and because of my family name, I remained the easiest target. I didn’t mind it so much anymore, though. Didn’t even care when people referred to me as Bougie, especially Tucker. Hell, him calling me that was foreplay now.
“What I’m hearing is you want hot dogs,” LaForge said.
“I’ll bring wieners, sure.” I snapped my teeth at him, and he cracked up.
“I’ll bet you will.” He flicked his towel at me, but I danced to one side, evading the lash. “I’ll drop a text in the group chat, and we can figure it out later.”
“Sounds good.” I hoisted my gear bag onto my shoulder and headed out to the parking lot, checking my phone as I went. Nothing from Tucker yet, so I fired off a quick text to let him know I was leaving practice. Hopefully, we’d get a FaceTime session in later, maybe even some dirty FaceTime. I bit back a smile while thinking about all the ways I could tease him, then tucked my phone away as Barker fell in step beside me.
“Sup?” I upnodded him. “Sounds like we’re cooking out at LaForge’s again this week.”
He offered me a tight smile. “Yeah, I heard. Ummm.” He wrinkled his nose, and I slowed my pace. He’d had a rough couple of practices this week, and I wasn’t sure what was up with him. Guys hid or downplayed injuries all the time. I definitely had, but the way he winced and cursed softly put me on edge.
We slowed to a stop beside my car, and I dropped my bag so I could fully face him. “Everything okay?” I wasn’t about to comment on the practices because sometimes that just put a player even more into their head, but I would try to be a listening ear if he needed to vent. We weren’t crazy close, but he was usually at our hangouts, and I liked the dude.
“Shit,” he said on a sigh and rubbed a hand over his head. “I don’t… I need to talk to you about something, and I don’t even know how to fucking begin because…” He shook his head. “I wasn’t snooping. I mean, I wasn’t trying to. I’m not eagle-eyeing you constantly or anything, but…”
I felt the blood starting to drain from my face even before he finished.
“I saw…is there something going on with you and Malik Tucker? Or is there maybe someone else in your phone you’re hooking up with named Tucker?”
The hope in his eyes almost had me opening my mouth and spewing out a huge fucking lie, but the weight of the truth on my chest wouldn’t let me.
I closed my eyes, drew a breath, and said a single word. “Yes.” We’d been so fucking careful in every other way that I’d never considered the goddamn phone would be the thing to out us. I shielded my phone most of the time when texting Tucker, but there’d been times when a notification from him popped up and I’d scrambled to darken the screen or disguise it.
“Fuck, dude.” Barker scrubbed a hand along his jawline. “Does Coach know? Does Tucker’s coach know?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “We planned on it staying that way until we figured shit out.”
“Do you two… You’re not throwing games or anything for each other, right?”
“What? No fucking way,” I barked, caught off guard. I’d fucking relished taking the Rush on, and I loved football too much to ever do something like that. But goddamn, I supposed I could understand why he asked that. “I wouldn’t do that shit, and neither would Tucker.”