Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“It just means Beckham is that special,” Will said. “He woke something up in you. Something no one else could.”
“He really did.” I threw another nervous glance over my shoulder. Parking spot still empty.
I jumped when I felt a hand land on my knee. Will pulled back like he had touched a hot oven. “Sorry, I was just going to ask for more water.”
“Yeah of course, Will. You don’t have to ask.” I grabbed the empty glass off the coffee table and stood. “Twinkling titties, you spooked me.”
Will chuckled at that and followed me into the kitchen. “I didn’t think you were so offended by my touch.”
“Not offended, just spooked.” I filled the glass with water from the fridge.
“I was gonna say.”
“Oh? What were you gonna say?”
Will took the glass from me and shook his head, smiling as he walked back to the living room. “Nothing, nothing.”
“No, now I’m curious. What were you going to say?” I crossed my arms and cocked a hip. I was close to arching a brow, but Will cracked before then.
“I was gonna make a stupid joke. About that one time. Just forget it.”
Oh.
Instantly, I knew what “one time” Will was talking about. There could be “one time” and “one time” only.
Seven years ago. We were two seventeen-year-old boys who got way too drunk and way too loose.
“Will, Will, look, it’s a full moon out!” I dropped my shorts and flashed my best friend. We both fell down into a heap of laughter in the grass. My parents were out of town, and my brother was staying over at a friend’s, so it was just Will and me and the unlocked liquor cabinet.
“That was the whitest ass I’ve ever seen. I think I’m blind.”
“Oh please, it’s a cute white ass.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Wait, when did Will’s hand land on mine?
“You want another drink?” I asked, getting up on shaking legs. I had to hold on to the wall to steady myself.
“No.” Will was standing, too. He was looking at me funny. Like I was a stiff-as-a-board actress and he was an interestingly hot but potentially constipated vampire staring at me from across the classroom, an owl statue looming over his shoulder.
And then I wasn’t holding the wall. My back was against the wall. Will was on me.
His lips were on me. His hands on me.
A car door slammed shut outside. All thoughts of that one night disappeared as I turned my attention to the door. If I were being honest, I hadn’t even thought of that night for years now. It had taken us a few days to talk about it, but when we had, we squashed any weirdness between each other, and Will went on dating his girls, never making another move on me again.
Two hard knocks matched the hard pounding of my heart. I hurried and unlocked the door, opening it and immediately feeling a mixture of relief and worry.
“Beck! What the hell happened to you?”
I grabbed his hands, looked at the red and bloody knuckles. His lip was busted, too. And his eyes, they were clouded with a raw anger I’d never seen before.
“Mario and his brother happened.” He leaned down to kiss me. I tasted blood when he pulled back. I wiped some of it off his upper lip, Beckham wincing slightly at my touch.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
We came back into the apartment. Will must have gone to the bathroom since he wasn’t around in the living room. I gave Beckham one look-over as he took a seat on the couch, his head dropping into his hands. Other than the bruises and bloody lip, he looked good, no other injuries that I could see. I hurried around the apartment, grabbing what I needed.
“You don’t have—“
“Here,” I said, handing him a bag of frozen peas. “Let me clean this up first.” I crouched down in front of him, holding a warm wet towel in my hand. I gently dabbed it on Beckham’s lips. He shut his eyes as I cleaned up the little blood that still slipped from the cut.
“So, what the hell happened?” I could barely wait any longer. I handed him the peas and sat down next to him, putting a hand on his thigh.
Beckham went into what happened, starting at the beginning. He didn’t get far into his story before we were interrupted by more knocks. These were so hard that they rattled the doorframe. Mason, who had come to cuddle with Beckham, bolted off the couch and ran into his cat cave with Jar.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Beckham asked, standing up before I could.
I shook my head. This felt wrong. Something rocked in my gut. It felt like that feeling you get when you’re walking across a suspended bridge and look over, down at the steep drop to a certain death. It was an instinctual feeling. A survival mechanism.