Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“You, and your cocky attitude, serving high-schoolers and mall-goers little cups of frozen yogurt?”
“Hey, I made great tips.”
I smiled. “No fucking shit, you did. I bet every teenage girl and gay guy wanted to leap across the counter and make out with you.”
“It was a fun job. Sometimes. When there weren’t too many people there.”
“Did you have a uniform?”
“Little yellow and blue shirt and a yellow ballcap.”
“I’m dying. I need photographic evidence. I’m asking Kane for pictures.”
“You want me to kill you. Clearly.”
“Frozen yogurt.”
“There was also the summer I was a volunteer park ranger, but that’s another story.”
I sighed, leaning back on the couch, staring up at the beams on the ceiling. I suddenly wished I could see Jesse at every stage of life—as a sweet little kid, a cranky teenager, and hell, even last year.
He was so interesting. Why did introverts always turn out to have the coolest inner lives?
“Talk to me about hockey,” I told him.
“It’s fast. It’s fun. It’s on ice.”
“Smartass,” I said. “Does the puck ever fucking hurt if it slams into your body?”
“It hurts badly, sometimes,” Jesse said. “But I can take it.”
I groaned. “Are all hockey players mouthy?”
A small smile formed on his lips. His dark hair shone under the pendant lights in my kitchen, and I wanted my hands in it again.
“A lot of us are mouthy, yes,” he said. “We don’t hesitate to fight. But maybe I’m a little more intense on the ice.”
I liked the idea of that.
“A bunch of guys brutalizing each other while on skates. I can’t imagine how much stamina that takes.”
“A guy tried to choke me once,” Jesse said.
I gave him a look. “Really?”
He glanced up at me from under his lashes. “Not that kind of choke. Calm down.”
My blood went hot. The part of me that was like a drooling animal came back out again.
The memory of Jesse’s warm, strong hand on my throat rushed into my mind, and I had to stop thinking of it or I’d need to go lock myself in my bedroom and come.
I swallowed.
“Well, it sounds wild.”
“Got a summer league game tomorrow night,” Jesse said. “You can come watch me fuck people up, if you’re that curious.”
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“Up to you, cowboy.”
The sun was just starting to set over the stables outside. I turned on mood lighting and music in my living room to get prepped for the party, and grabbed my cold drink from the coffee table. Jesse had helped me decide on a classic strawberry margarita—and I was starting to feel good.
Too good.
Why the fuck did I feel so good all of a sudden?
“I still think your idea is bad, by the way,” Jesse said a moment later, glancing up at me as he finished slicing strawberries for his drink. “Don’t hook up with some random guy tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll regret it,” Jesse said.
“I think the ban is doing more harm than good. Why the hell do you care who I fuck, anyway?”
I decided it was probably a bad idea to mention the heated, pent-up dreams I was having about him earlier today.
“Hey. Watch it,” Jesse said as he came into the living room from the kitchen, walking over toward me on the couch.
He nodded downward, pointing at the drink in my hand.
“Shit,” I said, seeing that I’d been holding it at an angle, almost spilling onto the floor. “Ten points for you, Jesse.”
What was with me? I felt woozy, but I’d only had a couple of sips of my drink, and I definitely didn’t feel drunk or anything familiar. The world was a little softer around the edges, though, and every time my eyes landed on Jesse I was fixated on his tattoos—those goddamn tattoos that snaked up under his sleeve and made me want to peel his clothes off and nibble and lick every inch of him.
“Come on. Sit,” Jesse said, taking a spot on the couch that was near me but also not close enough.
“You think anybody’s here yet?” I said, the words coming out slightly slower than usual. “For the party, I mean.”
“You said people wouldn’t be here for at least another hour,” Jesse said, furrowing his brow. “Are you sure you’re okay, Mason?”
I thought through everything I’d done today. I had worked in the sun, but I’d had heat stroke before, and it sure as fuck didn’t feel good like this. I hadn’t been drinking at all before the last ten minutes. Certainly no weed. I’d gone up to shower and—
Fuck.
“The allergy meds,” I told Jesse as a slow smile spread over my face. “My doc did say they could be a little strong sometimes, and I took a double dose.”
“Especially after the sips of tequila you just took,” Jesse said. He stood up, grabbing my drink and taking it. “This is mine now. You’re cut off.”