Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“What’s up?” he asked over his shoulder, disappearing behind the wall.
I frowned at the unusual coldness but stepped tentatively more into his room. “I, uh… I baked muffins,” I said.
Like an idiot.
“A lot of them,” I added. “So, I brought some to share.”
Holden padded out of the bathroom again, one hand running a small towel over his head as his eyes fell to the muffin in my hand. I offered it to him, and he glanced up at me before taking the muffin, turning it over in his hand, and setting it on his desk.
“Thanks,” he said, and then he drooped the towel he’d been drying his hair with over one shoulder and opened up his top dresser drawer. He pulled out a t-shirt and basketball shorts, dropping them to his bed. His hands found the top of his towel, the muscles in his back flexing with that light sheen of water on them as he did.
He glanced over his shoulder at me, and I flushed, turning to give him some privacy.
I heard him drop the towel to the floor once my back was to him.
I swallowed.
“I thought we should celebrate,” I said, picking at dirt under one of my nails to give myself something to focus on other than the fact that Holden was naked behind me. I heard the distinct sound of him shrugging on his shorts and then his t-shirt as I continued. “You getting cleared for practice, I mean.”
Holden brushed past me, dressed now, and hung his towels in the steamy bathroom as I followed and leaned a hip against the door frame.
“It’s just practice,” he said, indifferent and far too moody for my taste.
“Yeah, but it’s one step closer to playing again,” I pointed out.
He shrugged. “We’ll see.”
He walked past me, squeezing as close as he could to the opposite side of the door frame where I leaned, almost like he was afraid of touching me.
I blinked, face screwed up in confusion and maybe a bit of annoyance as I turned just in time to watch him sink into his desk chair. He pulled out a textbook from his bag and splayed it open like I wasn’t even there.
I noticed the CDs he’d grabbed at the yard sale laying on the corner of his desk, and I smiled a little, picking one of them up and turning it to read the song list on the back.
“Have you listened to any of these yet?”
“Nope.”
He answered without looking up, the word a pop on his lips.
I ignored his shortness, persisting. “Still running to Green Day?” I probed, reaching for his Discman, but before I could pry it open, he snagged it out of my hands and shoved it in his top desk drawer, slamming it shut.
“Can you stop touching things?”
“Can you stop being such a grumpy jerk?” I shot back, crossing my arms. “You haven’t even looked at me since I walked in this room.”
He shook his head, pretending to focus on the words in his textbook even though I knew he couldn’t read a damn thing with me there.
I sighed, wondering if this was residual upset from the win on Saturday. It was a good thing that we won, of course, but I knew even though he’d never admit it out loud, it bothered Holden a little bit, too.
Because they won without him.
I watched him for a moment before I said, “It’s just a couple games. They still need you. And now that you’re cleared to practice, you’ll be back out there before you know it. You’ll be—”
“Save the pep talk for someone who gives a shit,” he interrupted, flipping a page so haphazardly he nearly tore it.
My head reared back as if he’d slapped me. “What is your problem?”
“You!”
The word rolled off of him like a bellowing roar of thunder, loud and menacing, his chest heaving as he slammed the textbook shut and glared up at me.
I didn’t know what to do, what to say, so I just stared back.
“You,” he said, his voice still rough and ragged as he splayed his hands on the desktop and used it to stand, to push into my space. “You’re my problem. You, and your hot and cold bullshit, your blatant annoyance with me followed quickly by trying to make me laugh, make me feel better. You and your leave me alone attitude one minute and your let’s play attitude followed right after.”
My breath caught in my throat as he stepped even more into me, his chest touching mine, the fresh scent of him hitting my nose.
“You,” he said on a shaky breath that touched my lips. “And the way you’ve scrambled my fucking brain.”
He lifted his chin, just a notch, so that he was staring at me down the bridge of his nose. Every cell in my body vibrated under that stare. I noted how the muscle in his jaw ticked, how his throat was tight on his next swallow before he blew out a breath and shoved away from me.