Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Ari is the heir and I’m the spare.
I didn’t ask to have ADHD. It’s been a pain in my ass, but I deal with it the best I can.
What other choice is there?
The medication helps, but it’s not a cure-all. Football is the only thing that holds my attention. When I have that ball in my hand and I’m searching the field for an open receiver, my mind slows down and I’m able to think clearly. Or maybe it speeds up and I can see all the possibilities. It only takes a split second to process my surroundings. My brain cuts through all the guys and I find a receiver who can complete a pass and take it down the field, eating up the yards with his cleats.
God, but I fucking love it.
It’s my reason for living.
The only other thing that’s come close to holding my attention is Mia. Until this point, she’s kept me at a firm distance. I don’t blame her for it. Mia is gorgeous, smart, athletic, and focused on her future. She wants to be a lawyer.
We’re complete opposites in every way.
I’ll never be good enough for that girl.
As soon as that thought creeps into my head, I push it away.
For whatever reason, the stars have aligned, and I have the two things I want most in this world. Football and Mia. I don’t want anything to fuck it up.
The moment I cross over the threshold into Dad’s office, he glances from the computer screen and points to the leather armchair parked in front of his antique mahogany desk. I slip onto the chair and wait for him to read me the riot act.
Should I have invited so many people over last night?
Probably not.
My bad. Won’t happen again.
When I open my mouth to apologize, he cuts me off.
“What the hell was Mia doing here?”
I raise my brows, thrown off by the question.
This is what he wants to talk about?
“We were swimming.” When he glares, I shift on my seat and tack on, “It’s hot out.”
He snorts in disbelief. “What I walked in on was more than,” he uses his fingers to make air quotes, “swimming.” There’s a pause. “She was practically naked.”
“She was wearing her bra and underwear,” I mumble, embarrassed to be discussing the situation with my father. “She didn’t bother to go home and change. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
My parents have never questioned me about my relationships. Dad has even slapped my back a time or two and told me to make sure I wrap it up tight. The last thing I need is to get some chick pregnant at this stage of the game. And he’s right.
This fall, I’ll be attending Wesley. As long as I can prove myself in training camp this summer, the starting quarterback position is mine for the taking. That’s unheard of for a freshman and I damn well know it. What I need to do is work my ass off so these guys can see I’m the key to a winning season.
I’ve tried to convince the old man that entering the draft after my sophomore year would be better, but he’s not having it. The deal is that I wait until my senior year and earn my diploma. As long as I don’t get injured, there’s no reason everything shouldn’t pan out the way it’s supposed to. The plan is to major in communications so I can lay the foundation for a broadcasting career at ESPN after I retire. Without playing ball, that communications degree won’t be worth the paper it’s printed on. Dad likes to remind me of that every chance he gets.
“What was she doing here in the first place?” he growls, drawing my attention back to the conversation.
“Helping me clean up after the party last night.” Hell, I would much rather discuss that situation. Even thinking about what he walked in on has the tips of my ears burning. If it had been any other girl, I wouldn’t have given a shit. I would have patted her on the ass and sent her on her merry way. But I can’t do that with Mia. I should have been more careful with her.
“It better not be anything more than that,” he snaps, shaking his head.
I straighten on the chair. There’s something about his tone that rubs me the wrong way. “Why does it matter so much?”
“You know why it matters.” His booming voice echoes off the wood-paneled walls before he strains forward, resting his forearms on the polished wood. “I don’t want you fucking around with that girl.”
“We weren’t fucking around.”
“It sure as hell looked like you were.” He stabs a finger at me. “Whatever plans you might have hatched in that brain of yours, get them out right now!”
What the hell?
Are we seriously having this conversation?