Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
It was simple and believable, but then Rachel piled on. “And my phone has been like an alien lately. I swear, there’s some strange Martian life form taking it over. Like, hello, alien. Why are you messing with the alarms on my phone too?”
Her parents were not fooled. They were pissed at me, too, for trying to cover for her.
What’s she covering up now with her ramblings?
“So now the guy who left the dick review and the wife of the dick reviewer are on the board,” she declares as she sets a mixing bowl in the sink with a flourish.
Oh, shit. I’ve got a sinking feeling about what’s gotten into her. What if it’s the girlfriend lessons? Is she getting cold feet now? I should point-blank ask her, but I need to figure out the best way to say it. Rachel’s sensitive at the moment. Hell, she’s always been sensitive. But she’s particularly sensitive about romance stuff. I busy myself by grabbing a kitchen towel and wiping down the counter as she launches right into another tale of the whiteboard.
“And Axel was on there once,” she says, then adds, “Your brother.”
In case I’ve forgotten who he is.
But as I empty the crumbs into the sink, I’m no longer in the mood to guess. I had a hard practice. Coach worked us to the bone. Yeah, I love football, but it’s also exhausting. I don’t have endless energy, despite what some people think.
Besides, a good boyfriend would ask. And whether Rachel has changed her mind or not, I promised her I’d be an excellent platonic boyfriend.
Here goes.
As the timer beeps, and she removes the cookies, I run a couple of conversational plays in my head. Then, I flip a coin and pick one.
I set down the can. “Hey, Rachel?”
“Yes?” she chirps as she slides the next batch of cookies into the oven.
“Remember that time when you threw me a surprise birthday party when I turned twenty-five?”
She cringes as she sets a new timer. “Yes?”
“And you told me you were taking me to a rock-climbing gym for my birthday? You sent me a whole list of things I needed to bring. You said you even checked with the NFL and that rock-climbing gyms were allowed in player contracts?”
She covers her face with the oven mitt. “Don’t remind me.”
I step closer and tug on the cloth, so she’s looking at me. “What’s really going on? I thought we were going to talk about this whole girlfriend lessons thing and dates, and you’ve been going on about Hazel’s whiteboard. Maybe you changed your mind. Maybe you didn’t. But something’s amiss, and if you want to know how a man who cares would handle that in his woman, here’s how I would.” I make sure she’s meeting my gaze, then I add, gently but firmly, “Talk to me.”
She gulps. Meets my gaze. Her lower lip wobbles as she puts the mitt on the counter.
Holy shit. Something is really wrong. I should have been more sensitive. “What is it?” I ask, a little alarmed.
She jerks her face away, toward the window in the living room.
“What happened? Did some fuckface leave another shitty review?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Then what is it? You’re freaking me out.”
She lifts her face and draws a breath. “You’re going to hate me. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did this. I’m the worst friend ever,” she says, her voice wobbly and worried.
And it’s totally wrecking me. She is backing out of our four dates. This bothers me so much more than it should. “What happened? Just say it,” I say, trying to be cool though I’m not.
I’m fucking annoyed.
“I watched you last night,” she mutters, barely audible.
And I’m still clueless. “Watched me?”
“I woke up on your couch last night, and I walked into your bedroom. I thought I was at my home. I didn’t realize I was there. It took me a minute to register that I’d fallen asleep at your place,” she says, the words pouring forth like they’re spewing from a geyser. “And I was taking off my clothes to get into bed, and it wasn’t till I was in next to nothing and a few feet from your bathroom door that I realized where I was, and I saw…”
She stops. But I can connect the dots. Oh hell, can I connect them.
Maybe I should be embarrassed.
But I’m not.
I’m just not. Not about my body, my sex drive, my solo flights. Did I want her to find me in the shower? Now that I think about it, maybe some subconscious part of me did.
Maybe I’ve been wanting an opening with Rachel for longer than I’ve realized. Maybe this is it.
But I need her to be very clear about what happened last night. “What did you see, Rachel?”
Translation: how much did you see?