Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Okay, great! Meet you at Burgers a Go Go on Main and Street at seven tonight,” he commands, throwing me a wink before striding off.
A feeling of dread overcomes me. I’m reluctant to spend even a half hour in Chip McCreighton’s presence. It’s for sure the right thing to do, though. After all, a ton of people will see me and the jock at Burgers a Go Go; it’s a hangout spot for the Spencer Prep crowd. So the date is a beard of sorts, a red herring. No one will think that I’m into Mr. Phillips – much less suspect that we’re making love illicitly – if I’m seen with the hottest guy on campus. Literally one that dozens of girls want to go out with. In fact, there are already a couple of girls shooting daggers at me now, jealous of my alleged good fortune.
But still … where is Stone? Where could he be? What was this so-called emergency? I’m worried, and I miss the alpha male, but on the bright side, there’s always biology again tomorrow.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Evie
I hope the date with Chip isn’t as terrible as I expect it to be. I didn’t bother to change; I’m just going in my bodysuit and pleated skirt, too lazy to freshen up. But that’s apparently the wrong move because Chip’s eyes light up as soon as I step into the burger joint.
“Hey, hey, hey, you look nice,” he greets, a real smile on his face. Even his eyes are complimentary.
And I have to smile back. I’d expected him to say something crass and crude like “Yo, yo, yo, lookin’ fine, lookin’ sassy,” but evidently, Chip is better than that. And to my surprise, he pays for my meal as well, whipping out his wallet while we’re standing at the counter.
“No worries. I can treat my best girl to a burger and fries,” he says, glancing at my tray appreciatively. “I like a girl who eats.”
At those words, I just smile weakly. That’s one thing Chip has in common with Stone – they like bigger girls. And I certainly fit into that category. In fact, my skirt is feeling a little tight, so I’m careful to drink only half of my milkshake, saving the rest for later. I don’t want to bust out of my clothes unnecessarily – this isn’t the man I want to impress.
So I chat idly, smiling now and then, but I’m not paying much attention. I’m on auto-pilot. If this date had happened even two weeks ago, it would have been a different story. I would have curled my hair, put on a special outfit, and probably hung off Chip’s every word, listening breathlessly and gazing into his eyes with adoration. But instead, I’m only half present.
I’m in the booth, sure, but my mind is elsewhere, dreaming about Stone Phillips and warming inside whenever I think of the man’s eyes, hands, and cock. I’m so bad. I’m on a ‘date’ with another male, yet I’m dreaming of Stone’s massive prick, eager to feel it inside of me again. Yearning to play with him and let him play with me.
So when we finish our food, I shoot Chip a bright smile, crumpling my paper wrapper.
“Thanks so much!” I chirp. “The burgers were great, weren’t they?”
They were actually nothing compared to Stone’s home-cooking, but Chip has no idea that’s what I’m thinking. He shoots me an admiring glance.
“Yeah, I’ve never seen a girl eat an entire SuperDuper Special,” he states by way of a compliment. “Usually, when I take girls out, they get the salad or some vegetarian option,” he snorts, his nose scrunching. “That shit is disgusting – wilted leaves and alfalfa sprouts. Not that I take many girls here,” he amends quickly, shooting me a worried glance. “My mom gets the salad sometimes, too,” he corrects, stumbling over his words.
I almost laugh aloud because the hottest guy in school is tongue-tied over me, Evie Jones, the curvy girl. But I understand.
“No worries. Sometimes, I get the salad too,” I reply nicely, even though that’s a lie. I never get salad; I hate eating like a rabbit and have never forced myself to diet. But Chip looks relieved, glad he hasn’t mistakenly insulted me.
“Oh yeah,” he agrees, nodding quickly. “Even I’ve gotten the salad sometimes, but not often because I need to build muscle.” He hoists an arm up in a bodybuilder pose. “See? I’ve got the guns,” he notes proudly.
Honestly, his body is kind of gross. His biceps are so huge that his shirt sleeves are almost bursting, the thin cotton no match for the bulging muscles and veins. Some girls would die for his physique, but to me, he just looks like a jungle animal.
“Yeah,” I murmur faintly. “Nice. You must have worked hard for those.”