Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together, Snowflake,” BJ whispers against my lips.
“I think you should put your hand down my pants.”
He pulls back again, gaze moving over my face like a caress that echoes through my body and pings between my thighs. “The environment is lacking in romance.”
I point to the sky. “The stars are all starry, and the crickets are being cricket-y. How much more romantic does it need to be?”
“How about we make a deal?” He rolls my nipple between his fingers again.
I dig my nails into the back of his neck. “This is highly unfair. I’m too horny to think straight.”
He ignores me and keeps on with the nipple attention. “We hang out for the rest of this week, and if you still want my hand down your pants on Friday, I’ll make sure we have privacy and don’t have to use the back seat of my Jeep.”
“But we can still make out between now and then?” I kind of love that he’s negotiating for ambiance.
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. Deal. Fingerbang Friday is on like Donkey Kong.”
He laughs, kisses me one last time, and moves my sports bra back into place. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it.” I pick up my hockey bag and slide my arms through the straps, then hop on my bike.
He waits until I reach my driveway before he drives away.
My dad’s car is sitting at a wonky angle in front of the cabin, which makes me wonder if he stopped at the Town Pub before he came home. I leave my bike and hockey bag in the garage, grab the backpack I keep inside the hockey bag, and turn off all the lights before I enter the cabin. My dad is passed out in the lounger, the TV droning in the background. I assume my mom is already in bed since she has to get up at five to be at the diner by six.
I tiptoe across the kitchen and disappear into my bedroom, locking my door. I unzip the front pouch of my backpack and retrieve today’s tips—fifteen dollars. Not a lot, but every dollar counts.
I lift up on the handle of my dresser drawer and pull to the right. The drawer sits askew on the track. It’s hard to open, and if done wrong, it makes a horrible squealing sound. I could fix it, but it’s where I keep the things I don’t want my dad to know about, including my tuition money.
I remove the book-shaped lockbox, unlock it, add my tips to the roll, wrap five ones around the outside, secure it with an elastic, lock the box up, and shove it to the back of the drawer.
My fingers brush over the thick envelope, the other thing I don’t want my dad to know about. What I wouldn’t give to be able to accept the offer of admission and the scholarship. Until today it felt like an impossible dream. But now…I have hope.
I understand why my mom cautions me against dreams, though. Because the only thing worse than not having them at all is getting close enough to touch them, only to have them snatched away.
9 EMBRACE THE CHANGE
Winter
As agreed upon, all week BJ picks me up after my shift at Boones—but at the library since I’m done between one and two in the afternoon, and he’s on the ice until three. We make out for a handful of minutes before we get on the ice and he helps me strengthen my weak areas. We talk and skate and laugh and flirt.
I find out that BJ and the rest of his friends all go to the same college I have a scholarship for: Monarch. I haven’t mentioned the letter to him. I don’t want to get ahead of myself. He lives off campus with his friends, and he’s in his senior year with a major in psychology. I’m working on a degree in social work, but because I’m only part-time and online, I’m a sophomore when I should be a junior.
Later, when practice is over, BJ drives me home, and we spend a good twenty minutes making out. But he keeps stalling us at second base. As frustrating as it is, BJ is an amazing kisser, and if I’m honest, I kind of like not rushing things.
So far I haven’t said anything to my parents about the Hockey Academy, using homework from my online summer course and internet access at the library to explain my late nights and missing dinner lately. It’s not a complete lie. With daily hockey practices, my homework is allocated to later in the day now. After the first practice, I started filling the takeout containers with items that could be from Boones, so they were easy to explain away if I didn’t polish them off before I got home.