Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Light gray walls. White sheets.
Stark but oddly sophisticated for a dude’s room?
I lean against the counter while he roots through the fridge, and I try to glance around him so I can see what’s inside. Not because I’m hungry, too, but because I’m nosey. What do guys keep in their fridge?
I was never at Diego’s, so I wouldn’t know.
Milk.
Chocolate milk.
Orange juice. Gatorade. Water.
Pasta? A loaf of bread.
Cartons of takeout. Cannot tell what they contain.
No beer.
No alcohol.
Interesting…
Why did I think he was a rip-roaring drunk?
Probably because he’s huge and can likely hold his liquor?
“I dunno,” Dallas says from behind the refrigerator door, his ass sticking out as he bends at the waist, riffling through the fruit drawer. “We hang out.”
He makes it sound so easy when I know it won’t be. “What about girls on campus who are going to want to pull my hair out?”
Dallas goes still. Stands and turns to look at me. “Girls are gonna wanna pull your hair out? Why?” He’s holding a green apple and a container of tortellini.
Shrugging, I tap my fingernails on the counter behind me. “Because they’ll think I’m actually dating you and they’ll see me as competition.”
He laughs. “Girls aren’t going to try to pull your hair. That’s ridiculous.”
I shake my head. “You think so, eh? Winnie is dating a guy named Rookie, and he’s the president of his fraternity. Once when they were at a bar, some girl grabbed her by the ponytail and yanked—her extensions almost fell out.”
Dallas pops the lid off the pasta. “I’ve never heard of a girl physically assaulting another girl because of who she’s dating.”
“Just because you’ve never heard of it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”
He seems to consider this as he opens the door to the microwave, puts the container inside, and sets it to heat for one minute. Dallas leans against the counter, mirroring my pose, watching me.
“How ’bout this: if someone makes you a target, we’ll handle it. Or you can quit.”
I appreciate that he says WE and not HE will handle it, as if I wouldn’t be able to deal with a situation like that on my own.
I stand straighter. “Also, I’d like to talk to you about something.”
“What?”
“The reason I’m going to agree to this stupid idea of yours. Which is dumb, by the way.”
“You think this is dumb—noted. I’ll let my agent know.”
“Please do.” I nod. “Anyway. The reason I’m agreeing to all this is because I think you need me.”
Dallas pulls a face, turning to retrieve his pasta from the microwave now that the timer has gone off. “I think it’s already been established that I need you.”
“Yes, but not in the way you think you need me.” My chin tilts up, and I feel a wave of self-righteousness coming on. “I’m going to teach you how to be a decent human.”
The myth, the man—the legend—stops forking his pasta so he can sharply glance up at me, frown lines marring his handsome face.
There, I said it. He’s handsome—are you happy now?
Ugh.
“You think I’m not a decent human?” He grunts, stuffing his face and talking around the tortellini. “Of course you don’t.”
“Maybe that was a bit harsh. All I meant was you’re the kind of guy who would go up to a complete stranger and break up with her.”
“I’m not the kind of guy who would do that. I’m the kind of guy who did that,” he clarifies, as if the matter needed clarifying.
I sigh. “That’s the point. You can’t be doing shit like that.”
“I can’t?” He chews. “Why?”
“Because it’s…” I flounder. “It’s…wrong.”
“How was it wrong? I was helpin’ a friend.”
Helpin’ a friend.
That twang, tho.
He might have been helping a friend, but when the target of that helping was me? Not cool.
Not okay.
“I don’t think anyone has ever told you to think before you speak.”
“Sure they have.” He nods. “Plenty of people.”
He’s such a liar. I have a feeling he got away with murder growing up.
“Name one person who has told you to think before you speak.”
Dallas twists his face up as he comes up with an answer. “My nanna.”
“I don’t believe you.”
This guy is unbelievable.
To busy myself, I hoist myself up so I’m sitting on the counter.
I glance around, checking the place out.
The kitchen is tidy too. Only one dish in the sink, a bowl and a spoon. Toaster on the counter but no crumbs. Coffee pot.
The appliances are outdated and yellow, a shade that was popular fifty years ago and never since, but they obviously work and don’t need replacing. Besides, college guys don’t give a crap about the color of the stove and dishwasher the same way a girl might.
Suddenly, one of the brothers waltzes in—I think it’s the same one I was introduced to before ’cause he’s wearing the same shirt, but didn’t he say he’s a twin?