Misfit (Prep #1) Read Online Elle Kennedy

Categories Genre: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance, Young Adult Tags Authors: Series: Prep Series by Elle Kennedy
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Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
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And at that I grab my warm-ups and pull them on over my suit.

“You’re not worried your dad might catch you with your hands all over me?” I ask, lifting a brow.

Her answering smile is smug. “He and Casey went into town for dinner. So don’t you worry, rookie, I can rub your hairless chest as much as I please.”

“Save it for the janitor’s closet,” I warn her.

She gets a mischievous gleam in her eye that both troubles and excites me. “You want to have a quickie next to the jugs of chlorine? I think I read somewhere an endorphin release is great for anxiety.”

“I keep telling you, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Sloane grins and smacks a kiss on me, biting my lip.

I growl against her mouth. “Don’t start unless you mean it.”

“Is that a dare?” She arches an eyebrow at me. I know those eyes. The ones that watched us in the mirror when we fooled around. If she thinks I won’t drag her into the locker room and throw her legs over my shoulders, she’s out of her fucking mind.

“Get a room.” Fenn groans and looks away, embarrassed to be seen with us now.

Much as I appreciate Sloane’s subtle offer to suck me off before my relay, I should probably harness the sexual angst for energy. The lack of breakfast this morning is starting to feel like poor decision.

A sharp whistle pierces my ears. We all flinch at Coach’s voice shouting at us to cop a squat on the bench. Which means the meet is about to get underway.

“Good luck,” Sloane whispers against my ear before leaving me with another kiss.

I think Sloane might be more excited about this meet than I am. Or maybe she has more confidence in me. Either way, there’s no hiding now. Time to nut up. My old guidance counselor’s voice creeps into my head. She used to try getting me to do breathing exercises with her. Self-actualization and meditation bullshit. I can’t say it ever took, but apparently some part of me absorbed the information because I fall into a kind of fugue state once we’re called to the pool for the four-by-one hundred relay medley.

I understand the concept of practice now. I mean, obviously. But in particular, the automation. Training our muscles to work independently of our minds. When we’re tired. When we’re sore. When we’re nervous or stressed or too busy thinking about a midterm in math. Automation takes over and carries our bodies through the task.

I’m in and out of the water from my first swim almost before I even know it’s happened. My split is good, within the range Coach told me to aim for. I come in second on my laps, which is enough to give our anchor the time he needs to overtake first place on the return.

To my complete astonishment, we win the heat.

“You didn’t drown.” Silas shakes me. He’s sporting a huge smile, face red from celebrating.

I don’t even remember the race, but I’m glad it’s over. I’m thankful I don’t have to swim again today and get to watch the rest of our team’s heats. A few of the events are close. Razor-thin. All of us anxiously watch the scoreboard for the official times then launch into celebrations when we see that tenth of a second difference. With each win I feel myself becoming more invested in the team, addicted to this feeling of caring about something enough to feel my heart sucked up into my throat.

I never imagined I’d give a shit.

When it’s all over, we’ve dominated. In the stands, Sloane is going berserk. You’d think we just swam the Olympics, the way she’s jumping around and screaming. And I realize she’s up there cheering for me. Annoying the piss out of everyone around her and making a complete ass of herself for me.

“Never thought I’d see the day.” Lawson comes up beside me, following my gaze. “What’d you do to our girl Sloane, Remy?”

I let the nickname slide because I’m still riding the high of victory. “What do you mean?”

“You turned the ice princess into your own personal cheerleader.” Lawson sounds impressed. Then his gray eyes glaze over a bit. “Fuck. Look at those tits bouncing up and down like that—”

I elbow him. “Knock it off. That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about.”

“Oh, that’s fucking adorable. Busting out the girlfriend card.” He chuckles to himself. “Fenn was saying you text her every other second, but I didn’t realize you’d gone and wifed yourself up.” Lawson claps me on the shoulder. “Bad move, man. Once you give ’em the commitment, you lose all the power.”

My gaze returns to Sloane. Bad move? Yeah right. More like the best move I ever made.

A strange sensation takes hold and I’m not sure what to do about it. Looking at this girl, I feel the stupid grin pulling at my cheeks. I’d be embarrassed at myself if I didn’t enjoy it so much. Whatever she’s done to me, it’s in my bloodstream now, thick in the marrow. I’m not sure what to do about it or if I’d want to if I could.


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