Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“You’re Drew Colter, aren’t you?”
At the sound of my brother’s name, I pivot on my heel as I’m approaching my truck in the parking lot behind the student union—the same spot I park it when I have biology on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The spot procured for me by the girl in the registrar’s office; a spot I had to take her on three dates to secure.
We do what we must for a bit of convenience. Mostly professors and staff park in this lot—I’m pretty sure it’s off-limits for students, but I was lucky enough to meet a female who works in the administrative building and could steal me a parking pass all because she wanted to be seen on a few dates with me.
It's good to be king.
Of campus, I mean.
Turning, I lift an arm and scratch behind my ear. “Drake Colter.” But close. “Drew is my brother.”
She bites down on her bottom lip. “Oh, you look so much alike.”
Is this woman the only person on the planet who doesn’t know we’re twins? How can this possibly be? I mean, not to toot our horns but like, everyone knows who we are.
“We’re twins.” I rake her up and down with my eyes, perusing her outfit, long legs, long hair. She was amongst the group of sorority girls I’d seen earlier in the quad, her crewneck sweatshirt proclaiming her Property of Sigma Gamma Upsilon.
If I were in a frat, I’d be a member of Masta Masta Beta.
Ha!
Get it? Masturbator?
Er, yeahhhh…
“Twins?” Her eyes are wide as she comes closer, short shorts accentuating her long legs. Plus the fact that she’s wearing high wedge sandals blows my friggin’ mind.
Living in a world where female coeds wear skimpy shorts and heels to class is a godsend.
So blessed.
I shoot our Lord Savior a thank-you as she stands before me, looking me up and down the same way I’m ogling her, appreciation in her eyes.
She has a tote bag on her left shoulder with big Greek letters embroidered on it.
“Did you follow me from the science buildin’, little darlin?” My Texas twang comes in handy when I’m in the mood to be friendly, my thick dialect coming and going as it suits me—and right now, it’s suiting me just fine.
“Well, I thought you were Drew.”
“And how do you know Drew?” I have one hip propped up on my truck now, leaning on it for support, lazily watching as she adjusts her bag.
“I’ve seen him around here and there.”
More likely she has a class with him and low-key stalks him the way girls do when they’re thirsty, accidentally bumping into him on campus by sheer luck.
Ha.
Luck my ass.
You don’t just happen to be in a parking lot where students don’t typically park unless you follow someone there.
“You’ve seen him around here and there, and you saw me and thought you’d see me to the parkin’ lot?”
She has the decency to blush but doesn’t deny tailing me.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I won’t tell a soul.”
A slow smile crosses her face. “I appreciate that.”
I press a finger to my mouth. “My lips are sealed. I won’t tell my brother if you won’t.”
She’s not likely to run into Drew on campus anytime soon. He’s taking mostly afternoon classes this semester, and none of them are on Tuesdays. Even has a few online this year ’cause he claims he focuses better when he can listen to the lectures in private.
Pfft, what a nerd.
The girl steps closer still. Confidence doesn’t seem to be a trait she’s lacking.
“You said your name was Drake?”
“Yup.” I pop the P. “What’s yours?”
“Felicity.”
Ah, Felicity. “Well, isn’t that a pretty name.”
Shit, did that sound cheesy? Felt like it. Couldn’t be too cheesy based on the smile she’s giving me, all feline like. I wonder what her game is or if she has one at all; since she was sniffing around after Drew and not myself.
Not the first time and it won’t be the last; Felicity had no idea we were twins so of course she probably considers us interchangeable. Most people do.
Sad but true.
Felicity stands a few feet away, not a hint of a blush staining her cheeks—most girls are one of three things:
Not even remotely interested in me, regardless of my social status and clout on campus.
Down to fuck to raise their own social standing.
Immediately want to be my girlfriend, want me to commit, get emotionally attached.
I may have left one or two out, but that touches the basics, and I can see by looking at the smoking-hot sorority girl what her intentions are: Felicity is down to fuck if the chub in my pants is any inDICKation.
“Something tells me you don’t have a boyfriend waitin’ for you back at the house.”
Her shoulders move up and down in a shrug that I’m unable to translate.
“Would I have been chasing you across the parking lot if I did?”