Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Do you want me to tell you right here in front of God and everyone?” I ask.
Her eyes sparkle.
Sebastian clears his throat, but neither of us looks his way.
“I took your advice from this morning and put together a little something. It’ll be fun. I promise,” I say, letting the last word fall on a hushed whisper.
Our bodies are only inches apart. From this angle, I can see straight down the top of her dress to the ample cleavage hoisted up like it was done just for me.
She throws her head back just far enough that her hair swishes against my arm. The ends tickle as they dust my hand, almost goading me to make more contact. And with Sebastian still standing there, she must want that.
So I give her what she wants.
I wrap my arms around her and let my hands come together at the small of her back. She’s pushed against me, the curve of her breasts pressed snugly against the firm wall of my chest.
As I listen to her melodic giggle, I forget all about Sebastian and the show we’re supposed to be putting on. Instead, I’m searching her eyes for a sign of what she really wants to do from this point forward.
Because I know what I want to do. And I have a room across the street in which to do it.
“Did you know,” she says, sticking her fingers in my belt loop, “that just before I met you, I’d sworn off men? Like literally the moment before I met you.”
“Well, I do always love a challenge.”
She laughs. “You sort of fell into my life right when I needed you.”
“Are you saying I’m an angel? Because I’ve been called that before.”
Songs are written about smiles like the one on her face. It’s a picture of a split second in time without worry—clear of any reservations or stress. And after all the hell I’ve been through in the past few months with letting my team down during every game, it’s nice to be helpful for once.
And it’s really nice having her in my arms.
“I need to get back to Catherine,” Sebastian says from beside us. “It was nice seeing you.”
“Goodbye, Sebastian,” Larissa says without looking at him.
Instead, she looks at me.
We stand next to the bar with our arms around one another as though we’ve known each other for longer than five minutes. With each passing second, the look on our faces grows lighter and lighter until we eventually burst out into laughter.
“What the heck do we have here?” A woman slides up beside us as she tosses a strand of hair over her shoulder. Her face is painted into pure amusement.
Larissa’s arms drop from my waist, and she takes a step back. She turns toward her friend. “I thought you were busy with Suit?”
The other girl shakes her head side to side. “I was, but then I look over, and here you are, taking my advice.” Her bottom lip sticks out. “I’m so proud.”
Both women look at me, but neither says a word. Feeling put on the spot, I shrug.
“I’m Hollis,” I tell her. “Larissa’s fake boyfriend.”
“Well, I’m Bellamy, her best friend, and I feel like I just missed something huge.”
Larissa looks at me, and her eyes shine. I’m drawn to her energy. It’s clean. Happy. It’s strangely comforting and exciting at the same time.
“Sebastian was walking up,” Larissa says, turning to Bellamy. “And I just … Hollis was standing here, and I thought …” She makes a face. “I don’t even know what I thought, to be honest.”
“You thought I was hot,” I say with a grin.
Bellamy bursts out laughing as Larissa hides her face.
A stunning, red-lipped siren by all accounts, Larissa’s friend looks similar to many of the women I’ve hooked up with in the past. Yet tonight, the curvy little pistol has captured my attention.
“It’s okay,” I tease Larissa. “I’m used to it. It’s hard to be me.”
“I bet it is,” Bellamy says with a grin.
I shrug like I might be kidding, but I’m not.
From the outside, it looks like my life must be sunshine and roses. Guys on campus want to be me. Girls want to be with me—mostly. This season kind of put a damper on all that. Social media pundits profess my prowess, and half of my professors call me out in class just to say my damn name.
No one thinks about the impossibility of figuring out who, if anyone, is real in my life. Who likes me for me and who likes me because of what they see on television? It’s a difficult question to answer and one that’ll get you all screwed up if you get it wrong.
Which I’ve done.
And hope to never do again.
Bellamy smacks her lips together and looks at her friend. “I’m going to go swap numbers with Suit. You going home with Hollis or me?”