Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I say, “shall we go inside?” I hold out my hand for her to walk in front of me. She looks over at me, and the only thing I can think of is how long before I can leave without her thinking I’m an asshole.
I wish I could say the rest of the date went well. It didn’t. Keely tried to ask me questions, but my answers were one word. I would counter, ask the same questions and just nod, not putting in a word more. Let’s just say when we left there, I wanted to kick my own ass. Luckily for me, I don’t have time to dwell on it because there’s a preseason game tonight.
We end up winning three to one, but it doesn’t count, so no one cares. When I get home, I look at my texts to see if Koda texted me, but obviously, she didn’t. The only one who texted me is Keely.
Keely: Thank you for today. It was so much fun.
My eyebrows pinch together because it was not fun. Nothing about it was fun. It was like getting a root canal over and over again. Or watching wet paint dry.
Keely: Hope we can do it again.
She ends it with a smiley face, and instead of just saying yeah, that sounds good, let me check my schedule, my head has other ideas.
Me: Yeah, that sounds great. If you aren’t busy in two weeks, how about you join me for the first game of the season?
I press send before I even think about what a stupid, stupid mistake it is. I look down and my hands shake because I did not want to do that. And now there isn’t anything I can say that won’t make me look like a complete and ultimate asshole. A text comes in before I can do anything and think of an excuse.
Keely: Oh my goodness, I would love that.
“What the actual fuck are you doing?” I ask myself, looking down at the phone, closing the chat before I do something else that is totally fucked up and not right.
I pull up a thread with my cousin Zoey, who is more like my sister. I go to her when I don’t want my sisters to know anything or catch on to things.
Me: Question.
I wait for her to answer my text, knowing she always, and I mean always, has her phone on her. She’s a PR guru, so she always waits for one of her clients to get into a scandal. Sadly, they’ve never had the chance, and she is always left waiting.
Zoey: I probably have an answer.
Me: If I have coffee with a girl and it’s like the worst time, and then I ask her out again, is she going to think it’s a date-date?
Zoey: If you had the worst time, why invite her out again?
Me: Because.
Zoey: That’s a solid response.
Me: I don’t know, I felt bad she thought it was the best time ever.
Zoey: Wow, good thing she didn’t declare her love for you or you’d be having her baby.
I snort out laughing.
Me: It’s a great thing, or I’d probably ask her to marry me.
Zoey: But seriously, did you ask her out again?
Me: I did.
Zoey: Why would you waste her time like that?
Me: If I knew, I wouldn’t have texted you with the question, now would I?
Zoey: Well, you can always cancel.
Me: Then won’t I be an asshole?
Zoey: You are taking her out on a date you don’t want to go on.
Me: But at least I’m not canceling.
Zoey: Yes, that’s much better than you not wanting to be there with her.
Me: Ugh.
Zoey: If you don’t want to be an asshole, go on the date, but then you have to tell her you aren’t looking for anything more than a friend.
Me: That is going to make me even more of an asshole.
Zoey: The minute you asked her out on a second date, you became an asshole. This is just you being less of an asshole. You’re welcome.
Me: Fine. I’ll do what you said.
Zoey: Good man, still an asshole, but good man.
I can’t help but laugh at her.
Me: Good talk.
I toss my phone to the other side of the bed before I rub my hands over my face. “You are an asshole.”
CHAPTER TEN
dakota
“Is Uncle Christopher coming?” Rain asks as we walk out of the house on our way to their hockey practice. Or whatever it is that this is. All I know is we have to meet him at the rink by seven thirty on a Saturday. I mean, it’s not like we sleep in, but still.
“I want Uncle Chrissy to tie my skates,” Luna mumbles as she steps out of the door while I wait to close it.
“If he’s not there, I will tie them,” I tell her, and I don’t have a chance to say anything else because the girls squeal his name.