Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Shock silences me for a moment. Judd is upset with me? I honestly had no idea. “Oh.” I clear my throat. “Oh. I…ah, I’m sorry, man. I…”
“Forget about it,” he mutters, reaching for his drink again.
“No, I’m not going to forget about it. I really am sorry,” I say roughly. “I should’ve told you about Annika, but…I was embarrassed, I guess. You were all happy about getting back together with Therese, and I didn’t want to admit that I got dumped.”
He raises an eyebrow. “She did the dumping?”
I nod.
“Fuck. I didn’t know that. Therese just said you guys broke up.” Judd lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, too. I mean, I figured you’d tell me about Annika eventually, but you weren’t saying anything, and you’ve been acting all weird lately—”
“Weird?” I cut in. Shit. Does he know something?
“Like, distant,” he clarifies. His jaw tightens. “And then this morning I see you leave here with Luke-fucking-Bailey—”
“He needed a ride,” I repeat. “We’re not best friends or anything.” The denial burns my throat. Except we’re really not friends. I merely let him fuck me last night.
But that’s top secret. Judd can never know.
A flutter of panic fills my throat. Christ, what have I gotten myself into? I wasn’t panicking this morning when I woke up next to Bailey. And when I remember the sex, it doesn’t evoke much anxiety, either.
But this—the notion of telling my friends that I…like dudes. Or, oh God, telling my parents? How the hell are they going to react? Look at Luke’s family, for fuck’s sake. I’ve never met anybody who seems more secure about their sexuality, and yet Luke’s own brother calls him a faggot.
No. I’m definitely not ready to share this with anybody.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been distant,” I add. “I was caught up in finals, and the holidays, and this Annika mess. Not to mention that our season ended so poorly after that winning streak…” Bad as I feel about it, bringing up football is a calculated move on my part. It’s a tried and true method to distract Judd Keller.
“I know, right?” he laments. “I can’t believe New Hampshire made it so far in the off-season. We’re like a million times better than those fuckheads.”
“Right?”
“Next season, I’m taking charge of the defense,” Judd says firmly. “Dano was such a shit captain. He was so bad for morale, and you know how important morale is when it comes to…”
I tune him out. Again, I feel bad doing it, but my mind is elsewhere. This thing with Luke is confusing. I’m wildly attracted to him and I want to have more sex—that much I know. But anything else, whether it’s friendship or something more...I have no fucking clue about.
Luke sleeps until dinnertime. I know this, because I’m studying in my bedroom and I don’t hear a peep from his room until six o’clock rolls around. Then he’s a symphony of noise—footsteps in the hall, the shower cranking on, water running. After his shower, I hear him in his bedroom again. Music comes on, and my cheeks heat up at the sound of the sultry beat. It’s not the same track he danced to last night, but very similar.
I wonder if he’s warming up for his shift at Jill’s tonight.
And look at that, my dick is hard.
I rake both hands through my hair, the bio textbook in my lap all but forgotten. Luke Bailey is definitely messing with my head. Not only is this newfound attraction to him making me act “weird” in front of my friends, but apparently now I can’t even think about the guy without developing a full-blown erection.
Screw it. I drop my book on the bed and head for the door. For his door. I don’t even knock, I simply walk into Luke’s room unannounced. Because, hey, if he’s jerking off, even better. I’ll just go over there and finish him off.
But he’s not jerking. He’s sitting cross-legged on the patterned bedspread, staring at his laptop screen. His teeth dig into his bottom lip in frustration.
“Hey,” I say over the music.
He glances up. Instantly, suspicion fills his expression, and I wonder if there’ll ever be a time where he sees me and his default emotion isn’t mistrust. I hope so.
“What’s up?” he asks, his gaze returning to the screen.
I close the door and move deeper into the room. As I pass his wireless speaker, I turn down the volume. “I wanted to see if you, ah, wanted pizza for dinner,” I lie, because he’s plainly busy and I’m certain he’ll reject me if I suggest fooling around. “We’re all pitching in.”
He flicks me a knowing look. “Is that so.”
“Yeah.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my sweats. “Well. No.”
Luke grins. “You wanted to hook up, eh?”
I blow out a breath. “Yes.”