Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Holy fuck. I may have ruined his life, his career, his—
“Hey, Vaughn. You here to get some extra laps in?” Coach Burton stood at the gate outside the aquatic center.
I looked up in a daze at the familiar signage. I’d walked clear across campus yet somehow, I wasn’t surprised. This was my happy place. At least it used to be.
“Um…no. I—”
“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
“Yeah. I—no. No, actually I’m not okay. I’m sick. I’m not gonna make it to practice today.”
Coach stepped into my space. He looked more like a worried parent than a badass coach. “Is something bothering you?”
I shook my head emphatically and tried a smile. It wasn’t pretty, but I figured I’d get points for effort. “No. Everything’s fine,” I lied.
“Take care of yourself, Vaughn. We need you.”
I inclined my head, then turned to the gate and started moving. And I didn’t stop.
Block after block, through business and residential sections. From good parts to bad parts and back again until I could see the ocean in the distance. It took well over an hour to get home. I didn’t mind. I needed the time to think, clear my head, and come up with some sort of plan. By the time I opened my front door, I hoped to have one. I didn’t. I was more confused than ever.
No. That was too kind. I was a fucking mess.
I turned off my cell and concentrated on homework and did my best not to stare at my watch, mentally ticking down the minutes until practice began and Gabe realized I hadn’t shown up. He’d know something was wrong. Fuck. That wasn’t cool. I didn’t want him to worry. I turned my phone back on and almost dropped it when it lit up like a Christmas tree with texts and voice messages from Chelsea, Troy, Evan…and Amanda. And one from Gabe.
Where r u
I stared at his name on my cell and thought about how to respond. I typed and erased three possible versions of Everything is cool. Don’t worry, and was putting the finishing touches on a fourth when my doorbell rang. I went perfectly still for a moment and was rewarded with silence, then a nonstop barrage of knocking and ringing.
I jumped off my bed and hurried to answer the door, poised to yell at whoever was standing on the other side. The overzealous junior high schooler selling chocolate bars, the neighbor whose kid threw another ball in my yard, or who wanted to borrow sugar…I was prepared for anything. Except Gabe.
“What are you doing here?”
Gabe set his hands on either side of the doorframe and glowered at me. “I’m looking for you. What the fuck is going on?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, blatantly stalling.
Why was he here? I didn’t know what I was doing yet. I didn’t have a plan. I only had problems.
Gabe cocked his head. The slight movement was vaguely dangerous. “Coach said you were sick. I guess he saw you and thought you looked pale. Then Troy overheard our conversation and—are you sick?”
“Um…come inside,” I said, gesturing for him to enter. I moved into the kitchen and paused in front of the sink. “Do you want some water or something?”
I remembered asking that same question the night he’d brought me home a few months ago. If I hadn’t been drunk, I would never have accepted a ride home from him that night. We weren’t friends. He was the enemy. My nemesis. He was dangerous. Everyone said so. Yet I’d invited him inside and…everything had changed. I’d changed. Or maybe I’d simply opened my eyes. He’d challenged me and made me aware of a whole new side of myself. One I knew existed but didn’t want to face.
And now…I didn’t know how to be myself and protect him. I’d been wrong all along. I was the dangerous one.
“No, thanks.” Gabe stepped into my space and set his hand on my forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“That’s not how you’re supposed to read a temperature.”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Fine. Where’s your thermometer? Would you prefer it under your tongue, in your armpit…or in your ass?”
“I’m not sick. I don’t need my temperature taken,” I said in a low voice.
He crossed his arms and leaned on the counter. His black pullover accentuated his broad shoulders and muscular biceps. I noted the way the late afternoon sun streamed through the window, highlighting his stubbled jaw. Fuck, he was beautiful. I wanted to brush my face against his, pull his arms open and curl against his chest where I belonged. I wanted to block out the excess noise and outside world. They shouldn’t have a say here. This was ours. And I wasn’t ready for this to end.
“Tell me what’s going on, Der.”
“Amanda saw us together.”
“So…is that a problem? I don’t get it.”