Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 114337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
He picked his way through the muddy puddles and moved to take his spot at the front of the tire run section. Relief washed through me in a wave so strong, I felt lightheaded.
Oh, thank God.
I passed the large climbing wall and strode to the base of the steps behind it where a guy waited. I recognized him from earlier in the tournament, but I didn’t know his name or which house he was with. There was a silver whistle hung around his neck, so I flashed a warm smile.
Couldn’t hurt to be friendly with the referee.
He smiled back, but then his gaze moved past me to the Sig approaching, and the guy’s smile grew wider.
“Hey, man,” he said in greeting to my competitor.
I turned, and my mouth went dry.
There were about forty guys at the Sigma Phi Alpha house, and although I didn’t remember his name, I knew him. The Sigs were fuck-boys, and the guy in front of me? He was the single biggest contributor to their house’s reputation.
He couldn’t have looked more stereotypical frat boy if he tried. He was tall and muscle-bound, with dark hair and a deceptively wholesome smile. He could be classified as either handsome, cute, or hot, depending on the situation and how he wanted to operate.
Every Sig party I’d been to last year, I’d seen him go upstairs with a different girl. At the time, I’d judged him and thought it was gross.
But now?
Well, fuck. I was sort of jealous of him.
College was supposed to be my window for experimentation, my sexual Rumspringa. Instead, I’d spent my best years at Davidson University being faithful to Jack, who wasn’t nearly as interested in sex as I was. All it had gotten me was a broken, bitter heart, and a feeling like I was behind. That I needed to make up for lost time and have as many wild experiences as possible before graduation.
The obnoxiously hot frat boy stuck his hand out toward me. “Hey. Colin Novak.”
I took his offered handshake and squeezed tighter than I normally would in an effort to dominate. “Madison Perry.” My smile tasted overly sweet. “I’m going to enjoy beating you.”
Pleasant surprise glinted through Colin’s eyes. Then, his laugh was deep, full-throated, and I wished I hadn’t liked the sound.
“I hope you’re good at dealing with disappointment, then.” The handshake was over, but he didn’t release my hand. “What am I saying? Of course you are. You’re a Lambda.”
My mouth dropped open, and he stared at my parted lips for a long moment. There was something lewd about it, like he was considering what his dick might look like if he put it in the empty space I’d created.
I snapped my jaw shut, jerked my hand back, and swung my attention to the referee, giving him an expectant look.
“Oh, right. The rules.” He wrapped a hand around the cord his whistle dangled from and gestured to the set of weathered, wooden stairs that led up to a platform.
It was a few feet off the ground, and two long beams jutted out to another platform across the way. The planks were narrow—but wider than the balance beams I practiced on during my many years of gymnastics. They were also twice as long and, rather than being perched over mats, these were suspended over a muddy pit.
“No touching the ladder on the climbing wall,” the ref continued, “and you can’t set foot on the steps until you have the baton in your hand. If you drop it or fall off, you have to come back to the steps and start over. No climbing back up on the beam. Got it?”
“Got it,” Colin and I answered at the same time.
The ref nodded. “Once you get to the other side, it’s a foot race back to the start. First one to cross the finish line wins.” He backed up until he could see around the tall climbing wall and peered toward the start line. “Okay, I think they’re getting ready to start. Good luck to you both.”
“Thanks,” I said, but the ref didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy watching Colin, which was weird. Were they bros?
Competing last meant all the pressure was on me to bring this thing home. If we were behind when Zoe came over the wall, hopefully I could make up some of that time. But I’d fucking love to have a head start on Colin and visualized myself sailing across the finish line while he was way behind, still trying to cross the beam.
The wooden climbing wall was maybe twelve feet tall, so it blocked our view of the course. We’d have no way of knowing how our teammates were doing, but there was a big crowd at the start line, and I expected we’d hear their encouraging shouts.