Series: Torn and Bound Duet Series by K. Webster
Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“I’ll text you later and check up on things,” I say to her, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Just because I need some time to figure this shit out with Drew, it doesn’t mean I want to stop being around you. I don’t have tons of friends, Mia, but you’ve been one of the best to me. I can’t lose Drew after everything, but I can’t lose you either.”
“I’ll be right here.” She forces a smile. “Now go study.”
I give her an exaggerated salute as I back away from her door. “Yes, ma’am.”
This time her smile is real. She closes the door, but rather than feel like a weight has been lifted, I feel the crushing sense of disappointment.
As I walk down the hall toward the elevators, I can’t help but think this is all Ashton’s fault. All of it. He’s the wrench in all of this. Fucking with Mia and Drew. At least with me and Mia, I really like spending time with her. I wasn’t using her to experiment with my sexuality. I wanted her. Hell, I still want her. But I can’t ignore this thing with Drew. I need to face our past and try to work through it with him, even if it lands us back to being best friends again. He’s such a huge fucking part of my heart that’s been detached from me for so long. I feel like now my heart is starting to beat again.
I can’t let Ashton fuck Mia over, though. He didn’t tell her about him and Drew, which means he probably won’t ever. She doesn’t deserve to be involved with some lying asshole. If he’s lying about that, who the hell knows what else he’s lying to her about.
Sorry, Mia, but as your once-almost-boyfriend, it’s my duty to threaten this dickhead.
I take the long hike across campus to the building with the pool. Once inside, I make a beeline toward the chlorine smell. I slam right into someone exiting.
Travis.
His stumbles back, his water bottle hitting the floor, but he rights himself just in time before he falls with it. Quickly, he bends to pick it up. When he stands back up, I crowd him, sniffing.
“You stink, douchebag.”
He stumbles back, away from me with eyes wide from fear, and then bolts out the side door. Fucking freak. Ignoring his weird ass, I stalk into the pool area. I march my angry ass over to where Ashton left his bag last time and plant my ass beside it. It reeks of chlorine, I think. I don’t know how he puts up with the god-awful smell all the time. My eyes drag along the pool like a net until I find him.
I hate that the asshole has to demand attention.
I further hate that I unwillingly give it to him.
Ashton glides through the water, faster and more furious than before. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ll admit, since the last time I watched him, I looked up swimmer videos. The only swimmer I’d ever heard of was Michael Phelps. Ashton makes that guy seem like a novice. He owns the pool like he’s Poseidon. All the other swimmers watch in awe as he does his thing.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
He swims with speed and grace and it’s fucking mesmerizing.
Finally, he climbs out and stands near the pool edge. His muscular body drips with pool water as he looks my way, cocking his head in confusion. I pin him with a hard, challenging glare.
He begins sauntering my way as he peels off his blue cap and goggles. His dark hair flops over one of his hazel eyes that gleam with wickedness. I hate that I once again have to scope out how he compares to me. My gaze roams down his chiseled abs, taking in the way his obliques flex with each step he takes. Today he’s wearing skintight red spandex shorts that leave very little to the imagination.
Swim team is basically eye porn for everyone else.
I jerk my gaze back up to his, finding his lips curled into a knowing smirk. It pisses me off. He tosses his cap and goggles into my lap.
“To cover up your hard-on,” he taunts.
“Fuck off,” I growl.
He smirks as he snatches up his towel and dries off. “Why are you here?”
“We need to talk.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Talk.” He drops the towel and grabs his water bottle. After he unscrews the cap and pulls it off, he lifts a brow. “Dude, stop staring at my junk and say what you need to say.”
My nostrils flare as I jump to my feet. He lifts his bottle to his lips. I smack it hard out of his hand, sending it flying to the ground.
“What the fuck?” he snarls, getting in my face. “Is this about Mia—”
“Not now.” I push past him to pick up the bottle. Bringing it to my nose, I inhale. “What the fuck?” Whirling around, I shove it in Ashton’s face. “Is that—”