Series: Peach State Stepbros Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
But then, this is who we are, Troy and me. We make dumbass bets and do stupid shit. He’s clearly a fucking mess because Troy is perfect and has probably never gotten an F in his life, and though I’ll never admit it, I don’t like to see him this way. “What if I have a way to help you?”
7
Troy
“You have a way to help me with my grades?”
After assuming the worst about him while he actually bought me the alternator, maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt, but what if he’s fucking with me because of what an ass I was about it? It’s hard not to be skeptical.
“If you’re just gonna assume I can’t, then you’re welcome to leave.” He steps out of my path. I’m tempted to head straight for the door, but as is Atlas’s talent, he said the one thing that can keep me on the hook. I’ve never withdrawn from a class in my life over my grades. I don’t hide from my problems; I face them head-on.
“What is it?” I ask as he plops back down on the couch. He opens a pizza box on the coffee table and grabs a slice of pepperoni, eating it as though I’ve already walked out. “Atlas?”
Chewing, he leans back on the cushion, his gaze wandering like he’s working something out in his head. After he swallows, he says, “You remember that panty bet we made junior year?”
“How could I forget it?”
“Remember what it was about? You were running your mouth that the Raptors were going to beat the Eagles, who were undefeated that season—”
“Yeah, I remember how annoyed you were.”
“And we said if the Raptors won, I’d cough up a hundred dollars, and if the Eagles kicked your ass, you’d buy some lacy panties and wear them to school for a day.”
“And you won the bet. I felt like a loser the day of the game and then again that day when I was wearing those panties around school. Congratulations. What about it?”
Why is he bringing this up?
He places his pizza slice on the box, then wipes his hands on a napkin. “You guys were just one point away from victory.”
“And…?”
“You played really well that night. Maybe better than usual.”
“Not that you’d know. That’s one of the only games you came to, and, I should add, were sitting on the opponent’s side.”
The corner of his lip curls up as he shrugs. “That’s who I was rooting for that night. And did you or did you not play harder because of our bet?”
I hate when he’s right. Yeah, I played a lot damn harder, which only made losing hurt that much more. “Sure. What are you on about, A? I’m lost.”
He picks up a beer and takes a swig, then says, “What if we made a little bet around your next test?”
Now I’m downright suspicious. “What do you need?”
He grins. “It’s not something I need, but I could use you for a few hours one night. I’m not telling you what it is before the end of the bet, but whoever wins, if I tell you, you’re not allowed to tell Ellie and Glen, or anyone else, really. That’s officially part of the bet.”
“So if I fail this Thermo test, then I’m basically your servant for a few hours? Doing anything? Why would you think I’d ever agree to that?” How stupid would I be to let him have an open-ended request where he could make me do anything he wanted?
“I promise it’s nothing unreasonable. It’ll be like coming to a party some of my friends want you to come to. It’s not that, obviously, but just so you have a rough idea. I’m not going to tie you to a motel bed and pimp you out for a few hours, if that’s what worries you.”
“But it’s a little creepy that you said that, right?”
“I can be creepy sometimes. What of it?” He winks, making me chuckle.
“So that’s all I get about this thing I’d have to do for you?” Why am I even asking? It’s not like I’m going to do it! “In a hypothetical world where I say yes to this, what do I get out of it?”
Despite wanting to blow this off, I’ve got my mind fixed on my name scrawled across his ass. There’s this competitive part of me that would welcome the opportunity to mark him again. Do I really want that so bad, I’d be open to doing whatever he wanted for hours? No, this is a horrible idea.
“Use your imagination,” Atlas says. “You want to write on me some more?”
It’s like he pulled that right out of my head, and I hate that he knows me that well.
“I know you enjoyed it that first time…senior year,” he adds.