Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“I don’t know, a little bit of everything. We play games.”
“What’s he like? Like, what are his hobbies and stuff?” Cameron wants to know.
“Why? Are you collecting data so you can stalk him?” I tease.
“No, but maybe if you got a little more personal you’d—”
Tessa cuts her off. “Cameron, stop. She’ll figure it out on her own.”
But we have been getting personal, the deeper into Never Have I Ever we got. I learned he’s broken his arm twice, and neither time was while playing baseball. He’s never gone skydiving but it’s first on his Fucket List. Once, he dumped a girl he really liked because his friends dared him to, and it was over the phone, then felt so terrible he wrote her a letter.
He’s run red lights, almost been arrested for disorderly conduct, and his parents locked him out of the house once to punish him when he was two hours late for curfew. He sobbed on the steps like a baby for a solid half an hour before they let him in.
He was seventeen.
“So you have a crush on him?” Cameron confirms.
Yes.
Yes, yes, yes.
“I keep coming back because it’s entertaining. Is that so wrong? I think we’re becoming…friends? Is that weird?”
I hate sounding so insecure, but I haven’t hung out with these two in an entire year, and I’m not about to go spilling all my well-guarded secrets, no matter how well they have me pegged.
I make a mental note to spend more time with them during the week instead of just hitting parties on the weekends, really get to know them again. I want to be a better friend, not just their third wheel.
“Friends to lovers?”
If I blush any deeper, I’ll spontaneously combust and burn myself right out of this thick jacket.
“No, Tessa, not friends to lovers. Rowdy Wade is way out of my league.”
Cameron snorts. “No, he’s not. You’re fucking adorable.”
Adorable.
Great! I’m sure cute and adorable are exactly his type.
Cameron says it with such conviction I believe her—I believe she actually thinks Rowdy Wade could like me.
The butterflies in my stomach awaken as the baseball house comes into view. First, they roll, stretching. Then, on delicate wings of hope, they begin fluttering. Dancing.
Baby steps.
Little by little, one at a time.
And then suddenly, there he is.
Rowdy watches as we approach, removing his hands from the pockets of his thick, black jacket and placing them on the railing of the porch. He leans over, braced himself on his elbows, green eyes wrinkled at the corner, amused, watching us.
Watching me.
Damn him and his insane level of attractiveness, charisma, and charm.
My knees protest, giving a tiny wobble when he smiles.
“Ladies,” he greets us. “Scarlett.”
Tessa and Cameron do their best to hoof it up the stairs in their heels, toward the beat of the music, loud noise, and the smell of flowing alcohol.
“Come here often?” Rowdy teases when my first foot hits the bottom of the staircase leading up to the house.
“Har har.”
My feet gingerly take each step one by one until I reach the top. Tessa and Cam are understandably fascinated with our easy exchange; they hesitate by the front door, waiting for me, though their hungry eyes are locked on Rowdy.
Aggravated by their obviousness, I wave them off, shooing them inside. “You go on ahead. Give me a second.”
“Make it a few hours.” Rowdy coughs into his fist, masking his words like boys did in middle school, juvenile and immature.
My friends hesitate.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to wait with you?”
This is the first time they ask, and I’m unexpectedly heartened. “No, you go ahead. Have fun—I’ll text you if…you know.” If he won’t let me in.
“All right. Let us know this time, okay? It’s so cold out here.” Tessa chatters her teeth dramatically, cueing the need for them to hustle inside, both of their gorgeous blonde heads
disappearing from sight with the slamming of a screen door.
Rowdy and I stand wordlessly, listening to the noises from within at the same time my butterflies flap their pesky wings.
I inhale an anxious breath, wondering what he’s going to say when he finally speaks. Exhale, watching the small puff of steam float away.
His mouth opens. “Three weeks in a row, eh?” Rowdy clasps his hands. “I can’t decide which one of us is a bigger glutton for punishment, can you?”
“It’s definitely you.” I laugh. “We both know you could easily assign someone to babysit me—it doesn’t have to be you.”
But I’m glad it is him. I wouldn’t have shown up if I thought it was anyone else, and I certainly wouldn’t have stayed—not in this weather. I’m not a total sadist.
I’ve looked forward to seeing him every Friday since we met.
Rowdy is goofy and entertaining and witty, not to mention his handsome face and ridiculous body.
It’s no hardship being sequestered on the porch with him, and if he took me inside right now, I’d be indisputably