Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“No one’s up for a big party. The next game is in three days so it’s just the guys and a couple of their girls.”
I stop towel drying my hair and take a deep breath. It’s time. It’s past time actually. “I can’t,” I find the courage to voice out loud while I absently stare into my closet.
“Yes, you can. Brock went shopping. We have chicken wings, steaks, salmon. I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes to pick you up. The bus is pulling into campus now.”
“No, I can’t. I have plans, Reagan.”
“Plans?” The note of surprise in his voice grates on my nerves.
“Yes, plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“A date.” Funny how life works. When I finally stopped getting my hopes up that Reagan would see me as something other that his security blanket, Simon asked me out this week. On a real date. With plans and everything.
“A date? As in a date?” he says a good sixty seconds later, sounding genuinely shocked. That really ticks me off.
“Yeah, you know, not the oval fruit of the Medjool variety. Not the one on a calendar, either. The other one. Two people go out, eat food, talk, see if they like each other.”
“I do know, Bailey. We do it all the time.”
“Except this guy is interested in me romantically. We may even want to see each other naked.”
Pause. Long, heavy pause.
“You’ve seen me naked––”
“And then you got weird on me again,” I jump in, talking over him. I can’t. I really can’t do this, the back and forth, anymore. So here we have it, a test of true friendship. Can it survive us dating other people?
Aside from idle background chatter, another sixty seconds of silence passes. “Shady Sean?”
“Simon. His name is Simon. And he’s not shady.”
More silence. This time with the addition of an occasionally hollered, “Bailleeeyyyy,” in the background.
He exhales loudly. “I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” His voice is low, laden with disappointment. Join the club. I’m disappointed too.
“Hey, good game,” I tell him. He’s one step closer to winning his first championship as captain of this team, and he should know someone recognizes how hard he works. And regardless of everything, I’ll always root for him.
“You watched?”
“Of course, I did. You were amazing. Played your heart out.” When he doesn’t respond, I put us both out of our misery. “Night, Rea. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Reagan
“Knock it off. Not in the communal living area. I mean it, D,” I bark.
Across from me, some chick is straddling D’s lap and his hand is on her ass, pushing her shorts aside. Even one handed, he’s dangerous.
My mood is currently taking a tour of hell and everything is pissing me off. The guys playing video games in the living room inside. The ones smoking at the edge of the beach. The one practically fucking in front of me.
All I wanted to do was come home, hole up in the privacy of my room, and get wasted. But no, the guys wouldn’t have it. Now it’s almost midnight, half of them are still here along with a bunch of girls I barely recognize, and I’m stuck on the patio watching Dallas get it on. I’m not drunk enough for this shit. Unfortunately, I’m not drunk at all.
He pulls his tongue out of her throat long enough to flip me off. I think she said her name is Karen, or Katherine. Not sure. Don’t care. He slaps her ass and she gets off his lap, walks inside with an unsteady swing to her gait.
For the millionth time tonight, I pull my phone out of my pocket and stare at it. No texts from Alice. My finger hovers over the screen. I start typing…erase it. Type…erase. I can’t. The phone goes back in my pants. I’m not drunk enough to fire off a text that will probably end our friendship for good.
Across the way, I catch Dallas eyeballing me. He comes over and inserts himself between me and a passed-out Cole whose head is on my shoulder. He had the right idea, went straight for the tequila when we got home and now he’s contently snoring like a middle-aged man.
“Where’s your girl?”
“Not my girl.” The words taste so fucking bitter on my tongue I have to wash them away with a mouthful of warm beer.
Do I want her to be mine? From the day I met her she’s made me want things I’d never considered before. Companionship, affection, stability, someone all mine. Yeah, I want her. And I was sure we were finally going to go there on Thanksgiving until Dallas showed up to ruin the moment.
After he finished explaining what happened and we called Coach to let him in on it, Alice was looking so painfully awkward I didn’t want to push it. Besides, I’m still not sure I won’t screw it up. And then what will I have? No friend, no girlfriend, no Alice. And we’ve already established I can’t be without Alice.