Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Ambrose tosses Quinn a clean white towel. “I have lacrosse practice; even though we aren’t in season, we still have to work out, the coach is ruthless, and if I don’t get to school by noon, I can’t play, which means coach will be all up my ass.”
Quinn peels off his shirt and tosses it onto the floor. “What? Like they actually need the captain and starting senior in order to win?”
“These be crazy times.” Ambrose agrees.
I point toward the door. “I’m just gonna go… get ready, and pray that banging my head against the wall will make my headache go away.”
Quinn frowns. “Just hop in the shower real quick. Is it hair wash day? Because I hear that’s a thing.”
“It’s a thing,” Ambrose confirms. “She usually goes about two days before I start smelling her from her room.”
“Ahhh, the curse of the dry shampoo.” Quinn nods, crossing his arms over his lean chest.
I sidestep him. “I can just shower in my bathroom.”
“Don’t waste water.” Quinn shrugs. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, and it’s not like I’m going to stare with Ambrose standing next to a blade and a plunger.”
“What an intriguing way to die, so many creative strategies.” Ambrose leans against the counter.
“Ummmm.” I look between the two of them.
Quinn rolls his eyes. “It’s not weird, you’re the one making it weird, and we have to hurry, so I vote no hair wash day, get in, get out, grab a towel, so nobody sees your bits, and then get changed.”
He turns around so his back is facing me, but Ambrose doesn’t turn; he just looks into the mirror and smirks at me like he’s daring me.
It kind of makes me want to punch him in the face or at least threaten to kick him between the legs. Instead, I quickly peel off the sweats, my eyes locked on his through the mirror, and get into the shower. His hands ball into fists. I kind of like the idea that he’s having a hard time and that I’m weirdly exposed. I drop the clothes to the ground and shakily step into the shower; all Ambrose does is watch me wash myself while gripping the sink. His muscles are stretched tight across his back like he’s physically holding on, so he doesn’t turn around and come into the shower.
I wash my face and body, then quickly grab the towel that’s hanging on the rack and jump out, shivering as the cold air hits my wet body.
Ambrose makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat while Quinn simply checks his phone like he’s bored. I’m taking so long.
I’m just about to dry down my front when Ambrose’s hands are suddenly grabbing the towel from me and patting me dry with it. He’s visibly trembling as he moves the towel down my arms and breasts, stopping at the curve of my hips, gently he brings it between my legs and closes his eyes as he moves the towel down to my feet.
When he stands up, he turns around, pulls down his sweats, and jumps into the shower without looking back.
What was that about? I frown, then realize how different this time was from the last time we were in the shower, almost like he wanted to take care of me instead of take advantage of me. I’m still frowning as I wrap the towel around me and start to walk out of the bathroom past Quinn.
He grabs my elbow gently and leans in. The shower’s loud enough that I know Ambrose can’t hear Quinn’s low whisper as he leans in and says, “I think it’s only fair that you give me a chance too, you know, what if you prefer me to him? What if I’m better for you?” His grin is teasing, but I can tell there’s a bit of truth to it. He’s always flirted, but I also know there is a serious line he won’t cross, and it makes me wonder more about their past.
A shiver runs down my spine. “What if you aren’t?”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.” He winks and lets my elbow go, and I nearly sprint back into my room and grab one of my other uniforms neatly hanging in my closet.
I barely have any time to do my hair, so I toss it up in a bun, throw on some makeup, put on my black boots, then run downstairs to grab a protein bar.
Quinn is wearing a new uniform, maybe one of Ambrose’s? And sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee while Ambrose is grabbing stuff out of the pantry.
“Ready,” I say.
Quinn looks up, and his eyes heat. “I like the messy hair.”
I stick out my tongue. He just smirks. “Is that a promise?”
“Quinn.” Ambrose chucks a protein bar at Quinn’s face. “Could you not hit on her when I’m standing right here?”