Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
McKayla’s big brown eyes expose her excitement. “Do you think Gabriel will be at the game?”
I shrug because I truly don’t know. Keeping tabs on douche canoes isn’t my priority. “But there’s only one way to find out.”
When I nudge my head to the door, McKayla blurts out, “You want me to come with you now?” I barely lift my chin half an inch before she’s on her feet, gathering up her stuff. “I didn’t know you played during the day.”
My reply slows her down. “I don’t. But I do train two hours every day without fail.”
She looks like I just told her I’m Jesus. “Every day?”
Again, I nod.
“No wonder you sleep seven hours every night. You pass out from exhaustion.”
When our walk through the quad outside the library gains us many sets of eyes, I curl my arm around McKayla’s shoulders before pulling her in close. It doubles the number of stares in half a second, but McKayla seems oblivious. She continues chatting as if our earlier conversation was nowhere near as heavy as it was.
“If you train two hours a day, how much time do you set aside for lessons?”
Her mouth drops open when I reply, “Three hours.”
“Three hours? That’s it. That is all you have to do?”
“That’s the schedule. But I usually put in an extra hour or two… occasionally.” I laugh at her peeved expression before asking, “Why? How many do you do?”
“Around eight, and that doesn’t include study. That’s another three hours. Then I have to squeeze in your tutoring, which will probably be another two hours every day.”
I stop her before she gets carried away. “That wasn’t a one-off?” I nudge my head at the library during the ‘that’ part of my statement. I’m not referencing the tutoring aspect of our agreement. I’m talking about the two hours we just spent doing practice assessments.
“Uh. No. You can’t bring up your grades by thirty percent if you only put in ten percent. You need to be dedicated.”
“I’m dedicated. I am just…” When she waits for me to finish, I stop with the excuses and man up. “I’m just really fucking glad I have a fake girlfriend because it doesn’t appear as if I’ll have time for any other action over the next two months.”
It dawns on me what I said when McKayla chokes out, “Other action?”
“Pretty much anything above kissing.” Her cheeks inflame to the color of beets when I murmur, “More.”
“We-we’re going to kiss?”
I peer down at her with a slanted head and joined brows. “Do you really think we can pull this off without an occasional lip-lock?”
Her body temperature rises, causing a sticky mess to my underarms. “I-I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”
Needing to dampen the wish to flee in her eyes, I ask, “Do you always stutter when you’re nervous?”
“I-I don’t know.” She grimaces before pushing out with a groan, “I guess so.” While breathing out heavily, she scans our surroundings. Once she’s confident we’re not within listening distance of anyone, she confesses, “I’ve just never done that before.”
“Done what?” I ask, confused.
She makes a similar gesture with her hand as I did with mine two days ago.
“You’ve never…” I mimic her gesture, though it must be more risqué since McKayla yanks down my hand before doing another sweep of the area.
“Not that.” She murmurs something under her breath, but it is too quiet for me to hear. “I meant the kissing part of your reply.”
My eyes bulge out of my head. “You’ve never been kissed?”
My last word comes out with a wheezy grunt when she socks me in the stomach before storming off.
I didn’t mean to ask my question so loud. I’m just shocked. McKayla is a little dorky, and she wears clothes not suitable for anyone born within the last three centuries, but she’s attractive—very much so—so I find it surprising she’s never been kissed.
Hold on. Does that mean she’s never… that’s she… is she a virgin?
I don’t get time to register my shock. McKayla is almost at her dorm, and I don’t know the lock code to get in since the RA changed it after several incidences were recorded this weekend.
“Wait. Wait. Wait.” I catch up to her, stop her stomps by acting as if my body is a police barricade, then try to simmer her anger. “I didn’t mean to tell the world you’ve never been kissed.” When my confession doesn’t lessen the red lines of fury on her face, I give honesty a whirl. “I was in shock. You have lips designed to be devoured, so how hasn’t that happened yet?”
Just when I think she’ll never answer me, much less blush about my underhanded compliment, she murmurs, “I live on a big ranch. My neighbors are my cousins. I’m sure even you can work out the answer to this riddle.”