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)
I have barely thought about sex at all—not that that is the reason I’m hanging out with her. She was wrong about that. But just because I’m not dating her to have regular sex with someone—something I can do with anyone, if I’m being honest—doesn’t mean I don’t think about banging her.
I’m a hot-blooded guy.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins the way gasoline pumps through my truck.
We’re at the same table.
This time when I enter the café, I feel people staring, their eyes locking on the hand I have at the small of Daisy’s lower back. I guide her to the table in the corner all gentlemanly and shit, pulling out her chair and everything.
Pat myself on the back, I’m proud of myself for remembering.
I’m hella rusty.
Daisy already knows what she wants when the server pops over, but I have to run my eyes over the menu first, letting her order her hot chocolate and cherry popover—which sounds delicious and which I’ll undoubtedly steal bites from.
I settle on: Irish coffee. Banana bread.
“This is a cute place, isn’t it?” Daisy asks once the server walks off with our menus and orders, hands folded daintily in front of her and resting on the table—a stark contrast to the girl who said “Mother effer, dammit all to hell!” before throwing her bat into the dirt at the batting cage.
Like a savage.
Like a dude.
“Super cute.”
Daisy smiles, grinning at me when the hot chocolate and Irish coffee are set in front of us, licking whipped cream off the top with the tip of her tongue.
It darts out again to lick the dripping mocha spilling out of the side, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s doing it on purpose—to torment me. Torture me with your tongue…
Okay fine.
I’m thinking like a horny bastard—I can’t help it. I haven’t had sex in literal weeks, something that isn’t normal for me, awkward as that is to admit. I’m not even dating anyone—Shannon doesn’t count—but that wasn’t stopping me from getting laid regularly.
Daisy isn’t overtly sexy.
She’s one of those under-the-radar sex kittens, keeping her best parts covered and hidden. But beneath that hoodie and sweatpants material lies the heart of a passionate woman. The second she told me to stop being annoying in Mass Comm class, I knew I was damned if I didn’t.
She had the same fire in her eyes as she had this afternoon. The same fire in her eyes that she had when I was going down on her in the bathroom at the fraternity house.
I sip my coffee, the alcohol warming my esophagus on its path all the way down to my stomach.
“My roommate Gabby used to work here,” she tells me.
“Why doesn’t she work here anymore?”
Daisy laughs. “She got fired. Gabby is kind of…” She searches for the words. “Kind of a bitch? She’s difficult. Didn’t do well with customers, let’s put it that way.”
Huh.
“What’s it like living with someone like that?”
Daisy shrugs. “It’s fine. She’s in her room a lot, or she’s gone. So it works. I don’t think I want to live with her again next year.”
“You know what you need?”
“Hmm?”
“A boyfriend so you can go hide at his place and not have to see her at all,” I joke, blurting the words out before I can think about what I’m saying or what they mean.
Daisy’s eyes get wide. “Ha. Are you volunteering?”
“Let’s see what happens after our next date, eh?”
forty-one
Babe, where we’re going, you won’t need a shirt.
Daisy:
Thanks for taking me to the batting cages yesterday. I had a great time.
Drake:
Oh my god, you are such a damn liar LOL
Well, it’s POLITE to say THANK YOU.
Then thank you for the coffee and banana bread.
You thanked me already…
You also thanked me already…
Were you just looking for an excuse to text me?
Do I NEED an excuse to text you??
No, ma’am….
What are you up to right now?
Just got out of the shower.
Oh…
What’s the Oh… about?
No reason, just picturing you getting out of the shower. You’ve seen my lower half, but I haven’t seen yours.
Are you asking me for a dick pic???
GOD NO! No. NO.
Well shit, you don’t have to be so aggressive about it, a simple no would have done the trick—and it’s not like I was gonna send you one.
Pfft. Yeah right. Bet you would if I asked.
Fun Fact: I told you I’ve never sent a dick pic.
How is that even possible?
Ever heard of a screenshot? You think I want my cock on the evening news? No thanks.
Bwahahaha I hadn’t thought of that.
Reality bites. I don’t do selfies, either, for that reason. I don’t need someone selling my personal pictures without asking me first. It’s weird.
It can also get a guy in a world of trouble.
How so? What do you mean?
You know how many players in college or the pros get drunk or act stupid and let some gold-digging cleat chaser post some shit on social media because they were drunk and stupid—and it totally fucks them over?