Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
When I left home, everyone thought I was going so I could draft right out of high school, but that wasn’t the reason. I left to get out of a toxic environment and find my way into a loving one. I learned what it was to be supportive, to be loved, and I think that made me a better player.
When I broke my wrist senior year of high school, I remember being crushed, thinking my career was over. But Shea looked me in the eye and reminded me that the comeback is always greater than the setback. My dad would have told me to quit, my mom would have had me in the pens with the llamas, but not Shea. He taught me to play left-handed, and even though I struggled, he never gave up on me. Now, because of that work, because of the man I claim as my father, I can shoot both ways, and no one ever knows what they’re getting from me. It makes me lethal.
I’ve focused hard on school, on my skills and play, and yeah, I’ve had fun. Girls are easy to get with when you are a top athlete, and they’ve come to me without any work at all. I can just stand there, and girls are appear, wanting me. It takes no effort whatsoever on my part, really never has—except when it comes to Cameron. She didn’t fall at my feet. She didn’t hit on me. She was a friend. I kissed her first without even knowing if she wanted to start something. She never wanted anything from me, when all I wanted was to give her every single part of me. There has always been something about her that has drawn me to her, a hidden tether between the two of us, and ahfuckbuddy, there is no amount of work that I wouldn’t put in to keep her.
She wants it, she needs it, she asks for it…it’s hers.
I’m hers.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking for the second chance?”
Cameron’s brown eyes are a darker shade now, rather than the warm chocolate they usually are. Her lips are parted just a touch, the little gap between her teeth covered by her tongue. Her hair falls along my hand, and everything inside me burns for this girl. “So, ask,” I practically beg, and I almost don’t recognize my own voice. It’s so rough, like ice under a blade. Something flashes in her eyes, and she looks down. “Eh, don’t get shy now, Beauty. Eyes on me.”
Her breath catches before she drags her eyes back up. Heat burns in those eyes, and my chest tightens. “You should say no.”
“When it comes to you, the word no never crosses my mind.”
Her eyes widen in a stunning way. Her lashes are almost touching her brows as her lips slowly turn up. A challenge flares in those eyes as she asks sweetly, “Will you fold my laundry?”
Without hesitation, only a smile, I say, “Yes.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Will you watch Dance Moms with me?”
Oh, she’s a pain. “Yes.”
“Can I—” she thinks for a second, her grin is unstoppable “—borrow your car?”
“Yes.”
That sneaky grin almost does me in. “Can I wear my own jersey with my own number?”
I lick my lips, and while I want to prove my point, I can’t. “Absolutely not. You wear my number and my number only, my beauty.”
Her eyes are bright as she leans into me, her nose smushing into mine. I cuddle her closer, pulling her from her feet, but she doesn’t have any fear in her eyes. She trusts me. She runs her fingers along my stubble. “Will you be patient with me?”
“Yes.”
“’Cause with school, gym, and content creating, I’m busy.”
“But I know you’ll make time for me.” I gather her closer. “Just as I’ll make time for you.” She doesn’t say anything to that or even acknowledge my words. She moves her fingers along my stubble, and I can see the emotion in her eyes, swirling deep. I hate when she does this, when she overthinks. Unable to handle it, I say, “Cam, eyes on me. Talk to me.” Her eyes cut to mine as she bites her bottom lip. Her lip squishes through the gap in her teeth as her eyes lock mine in place. When she releases her lip, I lean in, running my tongue along it, soothing the red spot, mostly for me. Because I want to taste her. I’m rewarded with a soft sigh, and I demand, “Just say it.”
What, I have no clue, but I see she needs to say something.
“I’ve already hurt you, Benson,” she says so softly, I almost don’t hear her over the rumbling of the dryer. “It’s my biggest regret, and I don’t want to cause you any more pain. Ever.”
Ahfuckme, this girl has my heart. “Then don’t.”