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)
Her stare is intense, the breeze kicking up her hair as she studies me, lips still parted in surprise. “And ruin a perfectly good evening?” She scoffs, breath kicking up a puff of air. “I don’t think so. Maybe next time.”
My eyes flicker to the empty street. “Then let’s get you home.”
“All right, Rowdy Wade, I’ll let you drive me home.” Brushes a strand of hair behind her ears. “I probably should have gone home first and thrown on some pants, huh? I don’t know what in the world I was thinking.”
A loud banging from inside interrupts, followed by raucous laughter and chanting.
“Jesus,” I groan. “They’re acting like idiots—beer pong tournament and drinking games. We’re not missing out.”
It’s true tonight, and on any given Friday. It’s hot as hell in there, though—she’d be plenty warm in that dress and those heels.
“You don’t think I’d enjoy a beer pong tournament or a drinking game? Shame on you—I’m so good at beer pong it’s stupid.”
I laugh when she winks. So fucking cute.
And pretty.
Really stupid pretty.
“I’m kind of hungry anyway. The restaurant we went to had tiny portions—my chicken was this small.” She makes a circle with her hands, demonstrating the size of her main course. “It was the size of an appetizer—you would have hated it, and then you would have died from starvation.”
“So you went someplace fancy?”
“Real fancy—hence the dress.” She does a little twirl, showing off her legs. “We’ve gone out before break the last two years. It’s kind of a tradition.”
I should have taken her out tonight.
Scarlett shivers. “Can we go now, please? I’m f-freezing.”
“Shit, I’m sorry—let me tell them I’m leaving real quick. Give me one sec.” When my hand clutches the doorknob, I turn, shooting her a cocky grin, gaze raking her up and down. “Don’t go anywhere.”
She shifts on her heels, eyes twinkling. “Very funny, wise ass. As if I’d walk the entire way home in these shoes.”
It takes me a record sixty seconds to dash inside the house, take the stairs two at a time, and retrieve the duffle bag I threw in one of the upstairs bedrooms earlier. Another two to let my friends know I’m heading home.
“Amado, I’m gonna bounce.” I walk through the kitchen, swiping an apple from the counter, sinking my teeth into the juicy meat and taking a huge bite. Wipe my chin when it drips juice.
“Where the hell have you been, amigo?”
“Front porch.”
“For the last few hours?”
“Look, long story, but I’m heading out. If anyone needs me for anything, do not fucking call.”
I’ll kill anyone who interrupts me tonight.
“Where you goin’?”
“I’m taking Scarlett home—it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside.”
“Wait, who?”
“Scarlett.” I sigh. “You know, Cock Blocker.”
I practically choke on the words but say them so he knows who I’m talking about, and it works.
His face lights up with recognition, dark features curious. “You’re taking that chick home? The legs God gave her don’t work? If she’s not going to leave on her own, have one of the freshmen take her home for you.”
Yeah, no, that is not fucking happening.
“Nah. I got this. She’s cool.” I tamp down my actual feelings; now is not the time or place to begin a conversation about it—not with her waiting on the porch for me, in the cold.
“She’s cool.” He’s skeptical, tipping his beer back and gulping. “Tengo dudas.”
His use of Spanish has me glowering. “I have no idea what you just said—speak English.”
“I said, ‘Somehow, I doubt that.’ But whatever dude—suit yourself.”
“I will.”
He laughs. “Whatever you say, bro.”
“She’s outside freezing her ass off, so I’ve gotta go.” I hold out my closed first for knuckles; he bumps them. “See you tomorrow in the gym?”
Already and always training for the season to start.
His black brows go up. “¿A las seis?”
“Did you just say six o’clock?”
He laughs. “Sí.”
“See you at six.”
Scarlett
“Never have I ever…” His deep voice cuts into the dark cab of his truck.
I groan, head hitting the back of the passenger side seat as Rowdy’s sturdy hands grip the steering wheel, driving in the direction of my house.
“You are becoming obsessed with this stupid game.”
He glances over at me across the center console, the glow from each passing street lamp illuminating the interior, casting a bright mask of light across his gorgeous green eyes.
They slide down my torso and to my legs.
“Your answers amuse me—it’s my new favorite game.” He ignores my protests. “Plus, this is the best way to get to know a person.”
The fact that he wants to get to know me makes the butterflies in my tummy stir.
“By asking them embarrassing questions?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Can’t you ask normal questions? Like, ‘What’s your favorite color?’ Or ‘What are your biggest pet peeves?’”
“No, because those are boring, and I don’t really give a shit what your favorite color is—that’s something I can figure out on my own through the power of observation.”