Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
The car drops us in front of Malone’s exactly four and a half minutes later. The bar is loud, crowded, and chaotic when we walk inside—just the way I like it. Bodies fill every inch of space, forcing me to elbow my way through to create a path for us. Whenever a hockey fan spots us, we’re greeted with backslaps and cheers, which is nice considering we sucked absolute balls tonight. The best thing I did on the ice was smash a Boston College d-man into the plexi to create a rebound for Shane, who scored the only goal of the night. We still got our asses handed to us, 3–1.
The air in here smells like beer, sweat, and faint traces of perfume and cologne. Passing one couple, I make the mistake of taking a breath at that moment and end up inhaling a gust of the guy’s musky bodywash. Jesus. Everything in moderation, mate.
A glance at the bar shows a line snaked around it, people waiting impatiently for their turn to order.
“I’ll grab a pitcher,” Will offers, raising his voice over the music. “Go find the boys.”
“On it.”
Every booth and table is taken, occupied mostly by Briar students. I wander through the main space toward the adjoining room that houses a few pool tables and another long line of booths. I scan the crowd for my teammates. I always look for Patrick first because his bright-ginger head is easiest to spot. Jackpot. He’s in the middle of the room, crammed into a booth with Nazzy, Nick Lattimore, and a few other teammates.
I push my way toward my boys but slow when I glimpse a familiar face. Charlotte from class.
Our eyes lock, and she frowns at me. I respond with a grin. This girl hates me for no good reason other than I embarrassed her on the first day. Which, all right, I guess is a good reason—if I intended to embarrass her. I didn’t realize she was allergic to jokes. Instead of laughing, she turned beet red while trying to scrub sugar off her face.
I would’ve dropped it, but annoying Charlotte Kingston is honestly the most exciting part of Climate Policy. Those lectures are beyond boring. In fact, nearly all my classes are comprised of long, boring-ass lectures instead of fieldwork. I thought as an environmental science major, I’d be doing cool shit like hanging off windmills and single-handedly saving beached whales.
I was lied to.
“Sugar puff,” I say, nodding in greeting.
“Ice Boy.”
It’s too bad she’s always scowling at me, because she’s actually incredibly hot. I heard her tell someone she was born in South Korea but adopted as a baby and raised in Connecticut. She certainly fits the Connecticut bill with the little sweater sets, the pleated skirts. I’m surprised she doesn’t wear shiny Mary Jane shoes. But she prefers these little suede booties. Ankle length. Very proper of her, covering up her ankles. Wouldn’t want the men to get too horny and whip out their dicks at the sight of them.
I’m about to keep walking when her companion catches my attention. “Hey, I know you,” I say with a grin.
The girl sitting across from Charlotte is a slender brunette with big blue eyes and a smattering of freckles on her dainty nose. But her cute girl-next-door face is belied by a body that won’t quit, wrapped in tight jeans and a tiny crop top that shows off a flat stomach and perky tits.
“Go away,” Charlotte chides. “Leave my Little alone.”
“Your Little?” I raise a brow.
“I told you not to call me that in public,” the brunette sighs.
“Blake,” I say, her name coming back to me.
She rode with us to a party a few weeks ago. She came with Diana Dixon, Shane’s girlfriend.
Charlotte’s suspicious eyes shift between us. “You two know each other?”
“Gigi’s cousin, right?” I say to the brunette, ignoring Sugar Puff’s death glare.
“Family friends,” Blake corrects. “We’re not actually related.”
“Your dad is John Logan,” I accuse.
She looks amused. “Why do you say that as if I’ve committed some sort of crime?”
“I’m just saying, how dare you be raised by that man? He should be my dad.”
“You can have him,” she says graciously. “He’s super overprotective.”
“I think I’d be cool with John Logan protecting me. I could curl up in his arms and bask in all that hockey greatness.”
Charlotte speaks up, annoyed. “We’re sort of in the middle of something here. Can you just…” She makes a little skedaddle gesture with her hand.
“One of these days, you’re gonna stop being mean to me,” I tell her.
“I’m really not being mean.”
I turn back to Blake. “Normally, I would do your dad a solid and not leave you at the mercy of a bunch of horny guys at a sports bar dressed like that, because you’re either leaving here with a boyfriend or a one-night stand. But you’re with Charlotte, who I’m pretty sure is a man repellent. So…”