Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Yeah?” I ask, my breath catching in my chest.
“You wouldn’t happen to be avoiding me, would you?”
“Blake—”
“Because I’ve texted a few times, and you haven’t responded,” Blake says, his voice sharp, but the hurt beneath it is unmistakable. His jaw tightens as he holds my gaze. “And I don’t know, maybe this is crazy talk, but as a guy who had his face between your legs the last time we saw each other, I thought reaching out would at least garner a response.”
The heat rises to my cheeks, and my grip tightens around the strap of my bag. “I’ve been really busy,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper. Avoiding you because you make me feel out of control.
“Oh, I imagine you have been,” he shoots back, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Very busy talking yourself out of liking me and out of whatever this special thing is between us. Very busy figuring out how to scrape me off without having to say it out loud. Very, very busy.”
“That’s not what I’ve been doing,” I snap, my voice trembling slightly as my defenses kick into high gear. My chest feels tight, like there’s a weight pressing down on it, and I force myself to meet his piercing gaze. I need to hold the line, but his words threaten to crawl under my skin and dig into places I don’t want exposed.
“No?” he asks, stepping closer, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes me want to squirm.
“No.”
“Then what have you been doing, Lex?” His voice softens, but the frustration remains. “Because I’m trying to understand here. Should I cut and run now, before the heartache really sets in? Before it hurts so much to be shunned by you that it turns me inside out? Or should I hang in there a little longer, hoping you’ll change? Hoping you’ll see the potential in the two of us like I do?”
“It’s more complicated than that, Blake,” I manage, my voice shaky. I fidget with the strap of my bag as if the motion can steady me. “You don’t…you don’t understand what it’s like in my head. You don’t have the thoughts or the pressures that I do. You don’t… Your brain doesn’t work like mine.”
“Well, of course it doesn’t. No two people think the same, Lex. None. So, what makes us so different? If I’m willing to learn and understand who you are as a person, why can’t you do the same for me? Why can’t it work? Opposites end up together all the time. Look at Finn and Scottie, for shit’s sake. You want to tell me they’re the same? Not a chance.”
“It’s just easier this way.”
His face crumples at my words, and I know immediately that I’ve hurt his feelings—I’ve hurt my own too. But it’s true. Trying to make it work with him is the harder road. Period.
He nods then, his eyes a little sad as he holds out the bag of food. I lick my lips to try to stop myself from freaking out. Emotionally, this all feels like too much.
“Here. You can have the food.”
“Blake.”
“Take it, Lex.” I grab the bag before it drops as he shoves it off his own finger. “I, for one, am not feeling all that hungry anymore.”
I flinch as he pushes open the door to the lab, effectively nudging me and the abandoned food bag out of the way. The door slams against the wall outside from his powerful shove, echoing through the empty, dark hallway as he powers down it without looking back.
My heart pounds and my stomach flips over, sick to itself.
What have I just done?
Thursday, June 19th
Blake
My calves burn as I push to run harder and harder with every suicide. We take the field in ten-yard increments, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until we cover the whole thing, and for as much as it hurts, I wish it would suck just a little more.
Maybe that makes me insane, but the last ten days have been more fucking pain-ridden than any football hell week training could even dream to be, and it’s all my fault.
Fucking cocky, stupid, ornery—I just had to prove a point to Lexi by standing up for myself, and look where it’s gotten me. Alone, sad, ten fucking days without her in my life at all and no choice but to hold my dick in my own hand and dream of what it was like to touch her.
Fuck.
“Boden!” Coach Gordan yells, his voice hoarse with irritation. “Take it easy, would ya? I don’t need a fucking injury before the season even starts, for shit’s sake!”
I power even harder for the last fifty-yard sprint, and Coach blows the whistle when I’m halfway there. I don’t stop, though. I pump and I pump and I pump until my heart feels like it’s going to blow a hole wide open in my chest.