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)
After getting in on the action of messing up my hair and leaping onto my back, Kamil weakens the chance of ‘pussy-whipped’ being engraved on my door by the end of the night. “All right, all right, all right, enough of the antics. I’m fucking starved.” After inconspicuously nudging his head to McKayla, who is beginning the five-block walk to her dormitory, he adds, “Didn’t someone mention something about it being Taco Tuesday?”
The mention of tacos gets them going almost as much as McKayla’s insinuation I couldn’t get her off. They holler and cheer while making a beeline to the kitchen, saving me from making a spectacle of myself for the second time.
I am an ass, and I can play the douche card better than any man here, but I can’t let a girl walk home alone. I haven’t been able to since an assault my freshman year. Kamil’s sister hasn’t been the same since that night, and I don’t want anyone to go through what she went through, let alone someone who’s only just experiencing life outside her family’s safety net.
Once I’m confident I am not being side-eyed by any of my frat brothers, I bolt outside like an ice cream truck is speeding down the street.
“McKayla, wait up.”
Her pace slows, along with the noticeable shake of her legs. It’s clear she’s had the campus safety talk at least once.
She waits until we butt shoulders—figuratively. She’s way too short for that to happen naturally—before lifting her eyes to mine. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just…”
Just like she won’t let me off easy when I tell her I don’t know the answer to the question in front of me, I don’t let her act daft either. “You just…”
I assume she’s going to say I needed my ego knocked down to a manageable level, so you can picture my shock when she says, “I leaned in…” She groans before adding, “And you weren’t cupping my jaw to stare lovingly in my eyes.” Her next sentence is barely audible through her groan. “You were pulling a twig out of my hair.”
“It wasn’t a twig. It was a leaf.” I talk through the contents of my stomach now in my throat from her whacking me in the gut when I continue, “And it was an afterthought.” When she stares up at me, blinking and confused, I confess, “I got caught up in the moment.”
I laugh when she says, “Of putting a Band-Aid on someone?”
“No. The…” I make a hand gesture. It doesn’t alleviate her curiosity in the slightest. “The heat. The buzz.” I narrow my voice to a whisper before muttering, “The flexing.” I curse her innocence to hell when she still can’t read between the lines. “You made me hard, Einstein.” With humor, I aim to lessen her stunned expression. “So maybe some of what you said back there was true.” I nudge my head to my frat house. “‘Cause it was close. I could have blown my load in my pants, and my fingers were inches from the prize.”
“It was barely an inch.” McKayla gulps loudly before shaking her head. “Not that the facts matter. Please continue.”
We stroll for a couple more feet before I say, “So I leaned, you tilted, then I went for the leaf.”
You’d swear she isn’t as smart as her SATs state when she summarizes, “So you wanted to kiss me?”
I’m an ass for contemplating, but wouldn’t it be worse if I nodded like the desperation that tore through me didn’t deserve a moment of reflection?
“Yeah, I did,” I eventually confess before reminding her that only the nice guys are meant to win. “It’s been so long, even the fire hydrant looks inviting to me.”
When her eyes follow the direction of mine, and she spots a stray dog going to town on a red fire hydrant, she doubles the length of her tiny strides, meaning we’ll make it to her dorm long before she can call me out as the liar I am.
I wanted to kiss her—desperately—but the nice guy is meant to win, and I am not him.
Chapter 12
McKayla
Tires screeching then popping under the pressure booms into my ears a second before I’m shoved from the side. Cash’s shunt is so firm I land several feet away from the truck that’s careened from the other side of the road, mounted the gutter, and crashed into the tree two blocks from my dormitory.
The impact is so thunderous it takes several long seconds for me to realize Cash’s shouts aren’t in concern about the harshness of his shove. He’s abusing the driver still stuck behind the wheel, telling him how his stupidity could have resulted in the loss of life.
“Do you have any fucking idea how close you came to hitting her?” He thrusts his hand in my direction during the end of his sentence, its shake obvious. “You could have fucking killed her!”