Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“She’s at Briar.”
Something indecipherable flickers in Hazel’s eyes. Her jaw tenses, briefly, before relaxing. She twists her ring again. “All right. She’s at Briar. And?”
“And her father coaches Briar’s hockey team.”
Despite her total disinterest in all things hockey, even Hazel comprehends the foolishness of this move. “Are you serious?”
I nod. “Brenna Jensen. She’s Chad Jensen’s daughter.” I let out a sharp breath. “She’s gotten in my head.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I can’t stop thinking about her. And I know it’s a bad idea to get involved with her, especially since we’re playing you next weekend. But…” I shift awkwardly. “I like her.”
“You like her,” my friend repeats.
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been preoccupied and cranky because she’s ignoring you.”
“Yes.”
Hazel falls silent.
“What?” I demand. I always know when there’s something heavy on her mind. “What are you thinking right now?”
“It’s just…did it ever occur to you that this might be part of her plan?”
“What plan?”
“Do you really not see it?” Hazel stares at me as if I’m the biggest chump in the world. “Everyone knew the conference finals would likely come down to Harvard and Briar, and a few weeks before this hugely important game, the daughter of the Briar coach is suddenly interested in you, and, I quote, ‘getting in your head.’ And now you’re so distracted, I bet you’re not giving your usual hundred and ten percent in practice because all you’re doing is obsessing over this girl. Do you get my drift, Jake?”
I do, and it’s funny, because that first night at the diner, I accused Brenna of doing exactly what Hazel is suggesting. Brenna had denied it, and I believed her then and still believe it now. I no longer have a cynical viewpoint about Brenna Jensen.
“Brenna’s not like that,” I say simply. “Yes, she roots for her team and supports her dad, but she’s not trying to sabotage me.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I do.”
“Would you bet your life on it?” Hazel says in challenge.
“I don’t need to bet my life on it,” I answer in a dry tone. “But yes, I’m confident that this isn’t some dastardly plot on her end.”
“If you say so.”
But the omg you’re such an idiot look on Hazel’s face tells me she doesn’t buy it.
23
Jake
“Do I have a bubble butt?”
I scroll through my messages, but there’s nothing from Brenna. It’s been five days. Five days of complete radio silence. That is un-fucking-acceptable.
“Yo! Are you listening to me?”
I lift my head to glance at Brooks. We’re in the media room at the arena, waiting for everyone else to arrive for the team meeting. We’re scheduled to watch game tape this morning, which’ll be fun. Watching Brenna’s friends skate around on a huge screen.
Shit. Hazel’s right—I am thinking about this nonstop, and that’s not good.
“You’re not going to answer the question?” Brooks demands.
“No, because I don’t understand what you’re asking me.” I set my phone down and lean back in my padded chair, crossing my arms behind my head.
“It’s not that hard, Connelly. Do I have a bubble butt or what?”
I stare at him. “What the hell’s a bubble butt?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.” He rakes a frustrated hand through his blond hair.
“Okay, so like a fat ass?”
“No, not a fat ass. For fuck’s sake. It’s like two perfectly round globes, and they’re usually super tight. You know, like two bubbles, but on your butt. A bubble butt.” He sounds exasperated. “What part of this don’t you understand?”
I’m genuinely bemused. “Why are you asking?”
He flops down in a chair. “Because last night I was banging Kayla—”
“Oh, I know,” I say dryly. “I heard every second of it.”
“—and we were up against the wall, you know, with her legs wrapped around me. I was holding her ass and pushing her down on my cock—”
“Dude. I legit don’t want to hear this.”
“There’s a point, I swear,” he insists.
Our teammates start filing into the room. Coby, McCarthy, Dmitry. Heath and his fellow Whipped Cream Bandit, Jonah. A few seniors.
Brooks is unfazed by the audience. “So we were doing it standing up and she’s clawing at my shoulders. And my closet door was open so she could see the mirror, you know, the full-length one on the inside of the door?” Outrage colors his tone. “And suddenly she starts giggling, and I was like, what the hell are you laughing at, and she said it’s because she just noticed I have a bubble butt!”
“What is happening right now?” Adam the freshman says miserably. The poor kid still hasn’t adapted to us yet. You’d think after almost an entire season he’d be used to the lunacy.
Brooks spins around in his chair. We have a sweet setup here in the video room. Padded chairs that actually swivel, a huge screen that takes up nearly an entire wall. Plus a ton of cool tech that Coach likes to utilize when he’s freezing frames or highlighting certain plays.