Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I shake my head, entertained by her stupidity.
Five minutes later, we reach the ice rink on the other side of campus. Taylor glows with delight. She fixes her black hair with her fingers and adds a thin layer of pink gloss to her lips, smacking them together loudly.
Taylor turns to me. “How do I look?”
“Fine. Stop worrying about your appearance. A guy should like you on your worse day. Otherwise, he’s not worth your time.”
“I wish I could be more like you, Bex. You never care what anyone thinks of you.”
I shrug. “It’s simple. People will either like you the way you are or hate you for it. You know what my dad says about opinions and assholes.”
She laughs as I pull open the door to where my dad holds practice. “I’ll try to find my inner Bex. Be like Bex,” she chants a few times under her breath, joking. “You’re the only girl I know who would show her face around a bunch of guys with a bloody lip and no makeup.”
I roll my eyes. “I haven’t worn makeup since my dad made me wipe it off my face in my sophomore year of high school. Anyway, who cares if my lip is busted open? I wear it like a badge of honor. I wasn’t about to let Stacey Weaver get to the net.”
“Instead, you guarded her so hard, she ended up dropping bows on you like you’re in the UFC.”
A rumble of laughter shakes through me. “Drop bows? You sound like a lunatic.”
“What? Haven’t you ever seen a spinning back elbow? It’s pretty sweet. That’s basically what Stacy did to your face.”
“I hustled my ass off to become a starter this year. I wasn’t about to punk out, allow her to make the easy layup, and show Coach Vaughn I wasn’t starting material.”
“It was just a scrimmage. You can ease up a little bit. What if Preston tries to kiss you on Saturday, and he tastes blood? That’s not sexy.”
“He’s a hockey player. I’m sure he’s used to the taste of blood in his mouth. And it’s not like I’m going to kiss him.”
Once we reach the outer edge of the ice, our conversation comes to a halt. Taylor’s eyes are as wide as her mouth, full on ogling the players. Her behavior is almost embarrassing. Almost. Because I’m doing the same thing after I spot Preston on the ice. He skates with such grace I can’t help but admire him in all of his glory.
A quick squabble ensues where two players fight for possession of the puck. In a blur of blue jerseys, I don’t have a good view, but someone takes a shot on goal. It hits the post and bounces to the left of the net. One of Preston’s teammates passes the puck to him, and then he’s gone. He moves so quickly down the ice I have to blink to refocus. Damn, he’s fast. My dad wasn’t kidding about Preston. He’s talented.
I walk closer to the Plexiglas stumbling over my high-top Chuck Taylors. Pressing my hand to the glass, I stare in awe as Preston scores for his team. I bite my lip accidentally digging into the fresh cut from practice. A metallic taste fills my mouth. But I don’t care. All I can think about is Preston.
Watching him play for the first time is… memorable. Similar to how I felt the first time I saw Coach, Preston’s mom, standing next to Dante Fisher. Dante was my favorite basketball player growing up. I idolized him for years because I wanted to be like Dante. And Charlotte “Coach” Coachman—now Parker—was the first female sports agent.
People took her seriously. Coach was a force to be reckoned with in the sports world. I couldn’t believe it when I saw her on ESPN with a big grin on her face next to Dante. She’d just closed a massive deal for him. Most of all, she gave me hope. I’ve wanted to be like her ever since. That’s my dream—to become a sports agent.
“You should get that to your dad,” Taylor says, whipping me out of my Preston-induced stupor.
“Right.” I make a beeline for my dad who’s talking to a player in the box.
With his back to us, I catch a few glimpses of the scrimmage taking place before he angles his body enough to see us behind him. Dad holds up his hand suggesting I meet him on the other side.
Distracted by the players, I have to nudge Taylor to get her to follow me. She’s mesmerized by them. A few of them take note of us. One waves, though I can’t see his face. I return his gesture hoping he wasn’t attached to one of the dicks I’d seen in the locker room.
My dad pushes open the door that leads to the ice, and I hand him the wallet.