Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
“Fuck yes!” we scream, smiling wide enough to match theirs, and Mason and Brady wrap their arms around Chase’s neck.
“You saw our fuckin’ boy?!” Brady howls. “He caught that son of a bitch with one hand!”
“Hell, yeah he did. That’s the strong hand, isn’t it, Chase?” Cameron jokes.
Chase dips his head with a laugh, and Mason playfully punches him in the chest.
“You know it,” Chase tells her, his eyes on me. “I got your message.”
“Oh my god, you Mossed that guy!” I grin. “Wait until you watch the replay! You pretty much jumped over that guy’s head!”
“How about I wait and watch it with you?”
My response freezes on my tongue, my abdomen sucking in.
Chase chuckles then, pointing his eyes past the camera.
“We’ve been celebrating!” Cameron smiles, pulling the bottle in her hand in the camera’s view.
“Damn!” Mason laughs at our near empty bottle, moving closer to the phone, so we can hear him better through the growing noise in the background. “Don’t get too fucked up, road trippin’ into the mountains tomorrow night won’t be fun if you do.”
“To be fair, it was already half gone when we confiscated it from the game party.”
“Booze thieves!” Brady accuses.
“Hey, we pitched in for the party favors. We just can’t use our fake IDs at that mini mart to buy the actual shit.” Cameron giggles, taking another drink. “Why you think we’re drinking watermelon vodka? Like we’d ever pick this out!”
“Is that their locker room?” I ask, leaning to the side as if I can peek around him.
“Dude, yeah, and I feel like a hillbilly in the Hamptons,” Brady jokes.
“Here/” Chase snags the phone from Mason. “Check it out!”
He turns the phone to face away from them, slowly dragging it along the room. As his team realizes we’re on the screen, they whistle and play stripper with their gear, making Cam and me laugh.
“Meet this guy!” Chase quickly flips the phone back around until he and a shirtless, sweaty blond guy are in the shot. “If it weren’t for his block, I’d have never hit the endzone.”
“That and Noah’s bomb of a pass!”
“Fucking, right?!” The blond guy laughs, smacking Chase in the chest.
Chase licks his lips and looks away, Mason coming into view in the next second.
“Love you, baby sisters!” He grins. “See you tomorrow! We’re getting fucked up!”
“Fuck yeah!” Cam throws her arms up.
“Bye!”
We smile, letting him be the one to end the call.
“Woohoo!” Cameron jumps up, dashing into the kitchen and pulling open the freezer. “Our boys are beasts and I’m starved! Are these fettuccini bowls any good?”
“Stupid good. I’m talking Bella Italia good.”
Cameron gasp. “No!”
“Yes.”
“All hail the cooking quarterback,” she teases. “Come help me.”
Pulling up my message thread, I send Noah a quick text.
* * *
Me: hey MVP! CONGRATS on a killer game! That pass was highlight gold!
* * *
Me: PS Cam is about to get a taste of your alfredo! Be prepared for the aftermath. My girl is not above begging.
* * *
I toss my phone, skipping into the kitchen with Cameron.
A half hour or so later, we’re stuffed, our drunken haze begins its transition into exhaustion and we’re dropping onto our beds, but two more hours go by and I’m still awake, so I pick up my phone.
Noah messaged me back while we were eating, saying thanks and that he’d call me tomorrow; they were just getting loaded onto the bus for the long night’s drive home.
I text him now anyway.
* * *
Me: Are you awake?
* * *
He responds almost instantly.
* * *
Romeo: I am.
* * *
Me: I thought for sure you would have crashed from adrenaline.
* * *
Romeo: Nah, I don’t sleep well after games. Takes me a long time to knock out. Pretty sure the rest of the bus is out cold. The lights have been off since we hit the highway.
* * *
Me: Do you have headphones?
* * *
I grin, knowing he’s smirking on the other side.
* * *
Romeo: I do. Do you have a turtleneck on?
* * *
A laugh spurts out of me, and I don’t hesitate.
I hit call on FaceTime.
It takes him a few rings to answer, and when he does, he lifts his finger to his lips. Noah slips his earbuds in, shifting so his body is wedged half against window, half against the seat.
He pulls his hood up to get more comfortable, the thick gray cotton now pressed against his cheekbones, accentuating the sharpness of his features, and casting a low shadow off of his lips. But every few seconds, the window provides a low flicker of light, allowing me to see all of him. It’s like watching a thriller, nothing more than a quick flicker of clear sight to get your blood pumping.
Finally, he grins.
“I wish you weren’t so far.” The words slip from me before I even realize how true they are.