Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Goodnight,” I said to Vince when we made it to our rooms. I was already tapping my key card and opening my door when he just leaned against the frame of his, watching me.
I paused, arching a brow.
“You’ll be in my bed soon.”
My mouth parted at his words, and I blinked before letting out an incredulous laugh. Then, I let my door shut without going inside it, crossing to where Vince was, instead.
I folded my arms, lifting my chin high. “Never going to happen, Pigeon.”
He pushed to stand, invading my space so quickly I backed up and hit the wall in-between our doors. Vince stared down at me, a lazy smile on his lips.
“I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”
He pressed into me, just a little, just enough to make my breath catch. He reached up and trailed the back of his knuckles up the line of my jaw, tugging on my earlobe as if to remind me that his teeth had done the same tonight.
Then, he grinned wider, stepping away completely and unlocking his door.
“I love that face, by the way,” he said, glancing at where I was still frozen in place. “The one you make when you realize you’ve met your match.”
• • •
I didn’t think to check my phone when I made it inside. I was buzzing from his touch, mind and body on fire from the night’s events and how I felt about them. I was also exhausted, so much so that I barely washed my face before I fell into bed and let sleep take me under.
The next morning, I woke to a flurry of texts.
Reya: Camilla and I are freaking out over last night’s post. In the best way. Call me when you’re up!
Camilla: I smell an assignment extension… way to break the Internet! And every Tampa girl’s heart. ;)
Livia: Told you you were in trouble. Can you tell me I was right over a glass of red soon? I need details.
I clicked out of my best friend’s text with my heart hammering in my ears, pulling up Instagram next. I clicked on my profile picture, quickly tapping through the stories I’d posted of last night’s game until I came to the picture of me and Vince.
The image was so striking, I covered my mouth with one hand, staring at it in disbelief.
My eyes were a bit squinted from the flash, which just made me look sated, the smile on my lips subtle and soft. My normally curly hair was styled in soft waves and blowing in the wind, fresh from the blowout I’d had done earlier in the afternoon. Strands of it stuck to my lips, my hands clutching Vince’s arm tightly, fingertips curled into the fabric of his jacket. And even though I knew that I’d just been tired, I looked like I’d just been freshly fucked.
And there was Vince behind me, wrapping me up like he owned me, his eyes low and sexy and commanding all of the camera’s attention.
His lips were pressed against my hair.
My chest tightened. How had I not noticed that?
But I didn’t focus on it long before I was gaping at the text overlaid on the screen.
night out celebrating with my girl
I clicked out of it, blinking, only to be hit with it in my feed.
The photo had already been picked up by ESPN, and they’d reposted it.
Sonofabitch.
All the Right Webs
Maven
I pulled my hood over my head in the back of the plane the next morning, ignoring Vince, along with the rest of the team, as my phone continued to blow up. Reya and Camilla wanted me to call as soon as I landed. So did Livia.
When we touched down in Tampa, I bolted, getting my own ride downtown so I could make my calls in peace. But before I had the chance to call my best friend, my phone buzzed in my hands with my parents’ faces lighting up the screen.
It was a photo from Christmas two years ago, all of us in pajamas and huddled together for a selfie by the tree. Dad had taken it, his long arm stretched out and his smile wide. Mom was curled into his side, and I was there in front of them, a blend of the two humans who made me.
I always felt that I favored my mom — the same gold eyes, same slight frame, same warm smile. But my dad was evident in all my features, too. Our eyes were the same shape, we shared the freckles smattering our cheeks, and I knew I got my attitude solely from him. Dad’s skin was a pale white, though it turned red with emotion, alcohol, or even ten minutes in the sun. Mom’s skin was a deep brown, like the soil of Mother Earth. And I was a blend of the two.