Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“Now what happens?” I ask, sitting back down.
“Now, they go into overtime three on three,” she moans. “You are literally there at every single game. Have you not ever watched?”
“I’ve watched,” I say, “between my sips of wine.”
“Your Instagram consists of all selfies from the games,” she points out.
“Yes, because obviously I’m there,” I say. “You are so annoying.”
The overtime comes, and they lose, but at least Viktor isn’t on the ice, so he won’t feel bad about it. I mean, he probably will feel bad about it.
“Oh, well, maybe next time,” I say and then turn the television off. “Where are you sleeping tonight?” I ask, knowing she usually shares my bed when Evan isn’t here.
“I was going to cuddle you,” she jokes, and we walk up to the bedroom and then her phone rings. “It’s Evan.”
“Go into the spare room and come back later,” I say. “The last thing I want to do is be nauseated before I go to bed.” I walk into my room as she walks up the stairs to the third floor and goes into the spare room. I get ready for bed and try not to think about him. I try to clear him from my mind, but my dreams all night are of the fucking hockey game.
* * *
Sunday morning, I slide my eyes open right after eight o’clock. Reaching for my phone, I see that the Stingers won their game last night. It’s been almost five days since I’ve thought about him. I’m super proud of this. Getting up, I decide to go take the expert boxing class, and they don’t call it expert for nothing. I swear, I think my arms are going to turn to jelly. I can’t raise them to take off my sweaty bra. I put on my maroon yoga pants, a clean sports bra, and my gray Nike shirt. It is cut high in the front and long in the back, showing off my abs. I’m grabbing my purse and groaning when I put it over my shoulder, and the phone rings. I look down and see Viktor’s number.
He never calls me, so something must be wrong. Before I send it to voicemail or talk myself out of answering it, I connect it and put it to my ear.
“Hello?” I say, holding the phone with my shoulder. Walking down the stairs, I hold the railing because my legs feel like jelly.
“Hey, are you around?” he asks breathlessly.
“Depends where around is and what you want,” I tell him, walking out of the gym toward the subway. Better yet, I should just take a cab.
“Near my place,” he says. “I am sort of stuck, and I need help.”
“I’m about five minutes away. I just left my class,” I tell him and start to walk toward his apartment. “How urgent is this situation?” I ask him when I spot Starbucks.
“Um …” he starts to answer.
“I’m in front of Starbucks, and I’m thinking I should get a drink.” I stop in front and hear him huff out. “Jeez, Louise, I was going to offer to get you something too.”
“Fine. Get me an iced coffee with milk,” he says. “And check and see if they have any protein bites.”
“First, you huff, and then you even order food.” I shake my head and joke with him. “I’ll be right over.”
I try to tell myself that I’m just going over to help him as a friend, I would do it for anyone. I buzz his number, and when I get to his floor, his door is open. I step in, and it looks like a warzone.
Boxes are scattered everywhere, and everything from the boxes are laying on every surface that he has. “Oh my God.” I look around to see if anything looks like it’s in its place. “Did you get robbed?”
He looks over at me, his face full of scruff, his eyes a touch darker than normal, and the circles under his eyes also back to being a bit darker. “Why are you naked?” he asks me, his eyes almost glaring.
I look down at my outfit. “If this is what you think a naked girl looks like, I feel sorry for the women who actually got naked for you,” I say, walking in and deciding where to put the drink. When I walk to the island, it’s full of everything that you could need in a kitchen. And then some knickknacks you never use but always have. The only free space to put anything on is the stove. I walk over and place the tray on it, and my purse falls to the floor. I turn back at him. “But seriously, what in the fuck is all this?”
“My life,” he says, and I grab his coffee and bring it to him. “I thought it would be a good idea to unload all the boxes and then put things away.”