Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“Practice, class, game on Saturday. Game days vary, but otherwise it’s the same basic schedule through November. What about you?” I asked before popping the last of my burger in my mouth.
“Same. It sounds like neither of us has much free time. Are you sure you won’t mind spending yours with me?” Mitch inclined his head. “The boyfriend thing may mess with your booty call game. If this isn’t working for you at any time, let me know. Or if you see a potential hazard, like a girl you want to ask out or—”
“That won’t happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
I smacked his hand when he reached into the basket of fries. “Because I’m super focused during season. This is my last and I’m making the most of it. No distractions. I’ll go to a few social events because it’s expected. But I won’t stay long or party like a rock star. And as much as I like sex, I don’t want to get involved with anyone who might mess with my game.”
“Sex messes with your game?” he asked dubiously.
“No. It actually helps my game. It’s the emotional BS I can’t handle. I’m not a smooth operator. I tend to put my foot in my mouth, and then I feel bad about it and inevitably it fucks with my head. I’ll be on the field, waiting for the whistle to blow, thinking about what I should have said or done instead of paying attention to the ball. Not okay.”
“Hmm. Makes sense.” He held his hand above the basket of fries and gave me another mischievous look. “So let’s talk french fries. Boyfriends share and—”
“Nope.”
“What do you mean ‘nope’? I gave you my bacon. You upped my side of fries order to a trough, Evan. But it was always my order. You have to share. It’s a perfect way to show your undying affection for me,” he hummed.
“There are plenty of other ways to show fake affection,” I assured him with a laugh.
“Not fake…faux. It sounds better,” Mitch said, setting his napkin beside his plate before leaning in. “Show me what you got. Prove your faux affection for me.”
“Now?” I took a quick glance around at the nearby tables. Everyone was engrossed in their own conversations. None of which were as weird as this one, I bet.
“Yep.”
The challenge in his gaze was filled with humor. I had a feeling he didn’t expect much from me on this project. He’d probably script easygoing dialogue and include a random kiss to throw people off once in a while. No doubt I was his third or fourth choice, filling in for someone else…like Rory. In fact, I was suddenly sure of it, and the idea pissed me off for no good reason at all. My niggling sense of misplaced jealousy made me want to surprise the hell out of him.
“Okay, fine.” I wiped my mouth, then stood abruptly and moved to his side.
Mitch looked up at me and frowned. “Are you leaving?”
“No.”
“Then wha—”
I cupped his face in my hands and pressed my lips against his.
The kiss was meant to shut him up and throw him off stride. And okay, maybe I hoped he’d forget his name for half a second and realize I should have always been his first choice. A harmless kiss to seal the deal seemed like a good way to counteract negativity and prove I was fully onboard.
But I hadn’t counted on his lips being so damn soft. I sank into the connection and lost myself for a moment. He was sweet and seductive and fuck, he felt amazing. I wanted to taste him and smell him. I rubbed my thumbs over his jaw and sucked on his lower lip to keep myself from pushing my tongue inside his mouth. The desire was real but my timing was off.
I backed up slowly and moved to my chair with a lopsided smile that I hoped exuded confidence I didn’t feel. It could have been a total fail. Mitch’s shocked expression didn’t bode well. I had to say something. Anything.
“How was that?” I winced. Lame.
“What was that?” he asked, touching two fingers to his bottom lip.
“A boyfriend kiss. The spontaneous in-public kind that should convince the average passerby that I’m into you. How’d I do?”
Mitch nodded slowly and absently reached for his water. “Very, very well. You’re hired,” he deadpanned.
I busted up laughing and held my hand out for a high five. “Gee, thanks.”
“I appreciate this, Evan. I know I’m asking a lot. More than the average friend of a friend should. If you want to get back to me tomorrow or—”
“Let’s not overthink this. It’s an assignment or a friend helping a friend.” I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and set my credit card over the leather folder the waiter left between us. “The way I see it, life is short. I don’t want to be cautious or careful, and I don’t want to say no to any challenge that comes along. When I die, I want to know I lived. That’s all.”