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 wonder if she knows I can see her tits through that top, but far be it from me to point it out.
I’m an athlete, not an idiot.
Peeling myself off the bed, I grab my shower shit and vow to get in and out in as little time as possible.
Five minutes.
Tops.
“Be right back.”
***
“Are you excited about tomorrow?” Scarlett asks when I slide back into bed, dressed only in a pair of black boxer briefs.
We’re hitting the beach in the morning, renting snorkel gear and swimmin’ with the fishes—so to speak.
“If you’re asking if I’m excited about seeing you in a swimsuit, the answer is yes, I’m excited about tomorrow.”
“Did you have fun today?”
“Eh, it was all right. I enjoyed spending the day with you, but man, I am so fucking tired.”
“It was a long day—the drive with your parents was fun.”
I give her a side eye; the two-hour ride was torture, not fun.
“What part of my mother’s inquisition, exactly, did you enjoy?”
“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad.” She laughs, pulling up the sheets to hide her smile.
“Scarlett, my mom had a list—an actual fucking list she was asking you questions from. How did you not think that was weird?”
“It was harmless, but you don’t think she’s going to…ya know, put my answers in any of her books, do you?”
I toss my head back and laugh. “Oh ho, oh yeah—she’s definitely putting that shit in her books. Somehow she’ll find a way to make it work.”
Scarlett pushes the coverlet down, rolling to her side, bending her arm and resting her cheek there. “It was a good day. Tomorrow is going to be better.” She’s quiet for a few beats. “Have you ever brought anyone on a vacation with you?”
“No. Have you?”
“No, and besides, we never really took many family vacations to begin with. I do go on the trips through the science department, but that doesn’t really count, does it?”
She shifts, the straps of her tank top slipping a few inches down her right shoulder. My gaze fastens there briefly then drags itself reluctantly back to her eyes.
“Are we a couple?”
“Yes?” I hope that’s the answer she’s looking for.
“And…other stuff?”
Other stuff. Fuck yeah to other stuff.
“You’re my friend, Scar. I feel like the physical part is the natural next step. Plus, I want to bone you so hard it’s becoming both physically and mentally draining.”
“I don’t even know how to respond to that,” She giggles.
Laughing is a good sign, right?
I swallow the lump forming in my throat, pressing on my Adam’s apple, to make it go the hell away, so I can say what I’m about to say.
“You know the night you went to dinner with your friends from bio lab? I knew I wanted to be more than just your friend.”
“How?”
“Don’t you ever just look at something and know? I just…did.”
I fell in love with her that night.
Gag.
“I can’t believe we’re having a relationship talk.” My mother must be rubbing off on me, dammit.
“I love that we’re talking.”
Love.
There’s that word that’s wreaking havoc in my damn chest. I wish she’d stop saying it so my heart would stop racing.
Scarlett
“My mom said I should talk to you more about this stuff more often.” He averts his eyes, watching the ceiling as he speaks, a lopsided smile plastered on his face. “Feelings and shit.”
He’s pleased with himself for opening up to me.
Truthfully, I am, too.
“Oh?” I feign ignorance. “Did she?”
“Yeah. Both my parents are a wealth of infinite wisdom. Today when we got on the boat, my dad told me to use my common sense this weekend and wear a condom.”
Condom, condom, condom.
My body temperature skyrockets, and I brush my gaze toward the thermostat. How hot do they have it set in here, anyway?
“He never had the sex talk with you when you were growing up?”
“Oh, we’ve had the sex talk all right—a few times, actually.” Rowdy readjusts his large body on the bed, folding those thick biceps behind his head, mattress dipping from his weight.
“My senior year of high school, they both sat me down to explain that since I’d signed my letter of intent to play for Iowa, girls were going to be coming out the woodwork.”
“Were your parents right?”
A brief hesitation. “Yeah.”
He casts me a guilty look, thick eyebrows knitted into a frown as if just realizing what that one word implies: he took full advantage. Had lots of meaningless sex with countless meaningless women.
Well.
That information I certainly could have lived without, but I asked, so I have no one to blame but myself for the small crater of jealousy forming in the pit of my stomach.
“They’re always riding my ass about groupies, and safe sex, and using my head—not the one inside my boxers.”
“I don’t blame them. I bet it’s not easy watching your son work his ass off, keep up his grades, and then have to fend off all the girls.”