Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Sally turns those big brown eyes on me. They shine with a funny little spark, igniting the flecks of gold in her irises. “Really?” Her flat delivery of the word drips with judgment and something else. Something that sounds suspiciously like…curiosity?
“Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just play by them.”
She grins. “Hate the game, not the player. That would be your MO.”
“C’mon, Sunshine.” I’ve missed how much this girl makes me smile, despite the seriously unfunny things happening inside my chest. “You could never hate me.”
“Show me, Wy.”
My heart does that lurching thing again. “Show you what?”
“How to play. It’s been forever since I had fun like that.”
Heat rips through my skin. Sweat prickles along my scalp and inside my collar.
God almighty.
This girl don’t know what she’s asking.
She doesn’t know that asking me to show her has me thinking about showing her lots of things. Most of them involving nudity and my face between her legs.
Legs that are very much on display in tight jeans. She’s wearing a pair of fire-engine-red Bellamy Brooks boots, which hug her calves like a second skin.
“I’m not helping you get laid, Sally,” I manage, bringing my beer to my lips.
“I’m not asking, Wyatt.” She’s still grinning.
There ain’t a thing on God’s green earth I wouldn’t give this girl.
And, yeah, maybe the thought of making Beck Wallace jealous appeals to me, even if Sally’s endgame doesn’t.
Tonight, Sally will be in my arms.
Tonight, she’ll only have eyes for me. That’s enough.
That has to be enough, because the whole point of me doing this—showing Sally how to play the game—is for her to ultimately end up in someone else’s bed.
Who knows? Maybe seeing her with Beck will finally make it click that she and I aren’t meant to be. It’ll suck, but it’ll be like ripping off a Band-Aid. Once it’s done, it’s done.
I’ll be done with the world’s most serious case of unrequited love.
“You wanna learn from the master”—draining my beer, I set it on the bar—“you gotta do as I say.”
“Ooh.” Sally wiggles her shoulders in an adorable fake shiver. “I like the bossiness, Wy.”
I nod over her head to the dance floor. There’s no live band, but the playlist tonight is a vibe, filled with the kind of country that makes you wanna move. It’s a mix of new artists and ’90s greats—from Shaboozey to old-school Alan Jackson. Couples flock to the floor, along with girls in groups of two or three.
“Let’s go.” I push off the bar and motion for her to walk in front of me.
Sally digs her teeth into her bottom lip. Her eyes are soft now. “Thank you.”
“I ain’t going willingly.”
“Yes, you are. And I love you for it.”
My heart lifts. I love you too, Sal.
But then I’m crushed by a familiar sense of disappointment when it hits me that her words don’t mean what I want them to. Sally loves me as a friend. But I’m in love with her. Big fucking difference.
I watch her turn around and follow her onto the dance floor. Morgan Wallen is playing. Sally holds up an arm, swaying her hips to the beat, and I resist the urge to put my hand on the small of her back. On her hip.
She looks good. Mostly because she moves with confidence. Makes me puff out my chest a little, knowing she’s comfortable enough with me to let loose.
But then she glances over her shoulder. I follow her gaze and see her glancing at Beck. He’s looking at us—a good sign. Sally, though, goes stiff, her arm falling to her side—a bad sign.
“Hey.”
Her eyes dart to mine.
“Stop looking to see if Beck is watching us. You look at me. Only me. Got it?”
Sally’s long, dark lashes flutter as she turns around to face me. Even in her boots—they’ve got a good heel on ’em—she’s so short I still have to bend my neck to make eye contact.
“I see how this works for you.”
Is her reply a little breathless? Or am I just imagining it?
I step closer and smirk. “How so?”
“You’re…good at making a girl feel like…like she’s the only person in the room.”
“Take notes.”
She puts a hand on my chest and gives me a playful shove. “The cockiness doesn’t help.”
“Yeah, it does.” I grab her wrist and put her hand back on my chest. “There. That’s good. Let him see how much you like to touch me.”
Uncertainty flashes across her expression. Her eyes flick over my shoulder.
“Nuh-uh. Eyes up here, Sunshine. And the other hand on my waist.”
Sally hesitates, but then she does as I tell her. She’s stiff again—clearly in unfamiliar territory—as she puts her hand on my side in an awkward position. Her palm is cupped near my rib cage so that only her fingertips touch me.
Hell no. This middle school dance shit ain’t gonna do it.