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)
Daisy: Are you joking me right now?
Drew: Joking you? Is that your way of asking if I’m serious?
Daisy: Yes
Drew: I can hear your eye rolling from here.
Daisy: That’s because the eye rolling is so intense LOL
Drew: Yes, he was happy to meet you. He’s seen your profile.
Daisy: Oh.
Daisy: He mentioned that to me.
Drew: Oh?
Daisy: Yeah, oh.
Drew: Why OH?
Daisy: IDK, he just seems…you know. Not my kind of guy.
And there it is.
I, Drake Colter, am not her kind of guy.
Impossible.
I’m everyone’s kind of guy, goddammit! People love me.
Sitting up on the weight bench, I stare at that sentence as perspiration drips down my forehead: IDK, he just seems…you know. Not my kind of guy.
Not my kind of guy: what the fuck is that even supposed to mean?
Not her kind of guy.
Me?
I REPEAT: EVERYONE LOVES ME.
Everyone!
Okay, not everyone. There are a few people who can’t stand me, but those are guys and don’t count. I’m literally the most popular fucking dude on campus—if you don’t count my twin, ’cause people consider us the same person.
Drew: What do you mean?
Please, tell me—I’m dying to know.
“Hey, can you come spot me?” One of my teammates stands over me, weight belt wrapped around his waist, lifting gloves on his hands, face expectant.
“Bro, no—I’m in the middle of something.”
That something: messaging a girl who clearly isn’t impressed by me.
“Bro, you’re not supposed to be on your phone when you’re in here.”
I hold a hand up. “Collins, take a chill pill. This is urgent.”
The urgency: messaging a girl who clearly isn’t impressed by me and wanting to hear why.
My ego cannot take it, sue me for being arrogant enough to give a shit what she thinks.
Arrogance or insecure? A little voice asks.
Shut the fuck up, I tell it.
Daisy: It hardly matters.
Drew: Oh, it matters.
Daisy: LOL why? I don’t even know him. I’m not about to admit I was stereotyping or jumping to conclusions based on his appearance.
Drew: His appearance? What does THAT mean?
She must think I’m good looking and won’t admit it.
Daisy: Can we change the subject?
Drew: That would be a negative, ghost rider.
Drew: Just give me one thing you didn’t like about Drake.
Daisy: I’m not going to say anything negative about your brother!
Drew: One thing.
Daisy: No
Drew: Please?
Daisy: **LOUD SIGH**
Drew: I heard that from here.
Daisy: Fine. I just thought he was too cocky.
Drew: So? What’s wrong with being cocky??
Daisy: I don’t know—I prefer guys who are more…modest? Humble.
I begin to laugh, Collins still hovering nearby, the sophomore running-back narrowing his eyes, unconvinced this is an emergency.
Drew: Sorry but the last time I checked, modest doesn’t get you very far in the game of football. And what made him seem ARROGANT?
Daisy: Gee, I don’t know. He was pushy and rude and full of himself.
When was I full of myself?!
I want receipts!
Drew: Well, he told me you were sweet, so.
Daisy: LOL, if your brother told you I was sweet, he was lying.
Daisy: Question.
Drew: Go.
Daisy: How are people able to tell you apart?
Drew: Clothes usually? What was Drake wearing?
Daisy: I don’t know—a tee shirt?
Drew: What kind of tee shirt?
Daisy: HOW SHOULD I KNOW? A sporty one? I wasn’t paying attention.
A sporty one?
She wasn’t paying attention?
“EVERYONE PAYS ATTENTION!” I shout to no one in particular, my indignant outrage echoing through the concrete jungle of a weight room.
Collins props his hands on his hips, hovering, not giving up on me spotting his dead lifts.
Dude, move on! My furrowed brow tells him.
Drew: LOL, it probably had his football number on it.
Daisy: Oh. That would make sense…
Drew: Yeah, when you know, you know, right?
Drew: Usually, once people get to know us, they can tell us apart. I have a birthmark near my eye, and Drake doesn’t.
Daisy: Ahhh.
Drew: I’m also 2 inches taller
That’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that, and I have no idea why I said it other than to brag.
“Dude, who are you messaging? I need you to spot me,” Collins whines, stepping into my space and blocking the light above us.
Nosy bastard.
“My sister.”
Another lie, my second one in a matter of seconds.
“You have a sister?”
He and I both know there is no Colter sister in existence, unless our father had a daughter out of wedlock we don’t know about, which—oddly enough is a possibility.
“Yeah.”
“You fucking liar.” He laughs.
I nod. “You got me. I’m a fuckin liar.”
I swear to all that is holy, if this dude doesn’t walk away and give me my space…
Drew: I’m not actually 2 inches taller.
I let a loud sigh out as I hit send, unable to stop the goofy grin on my face and unable to stop Collins from wedging his foot up my asshole.
Daisy: LOL, then why would you say that?
Drew: IDK, I just blurted it out.
Daisy: You had time not to blurt it out and not hit send LOL
Daisy: OMG, you’re killing me.
Drew: So there was something I wanted to ask that my brother mentioned…