Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Annoying.
“I will.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“I will.” Why am I arguing with this guy? Jeez, Teddy, stop repeating yourself or he’ll think you’re a moron. Not true, I continue protesting to myself, because he already does. Thinks he’s so damn smart, watching everyone from the corner like a creeper. Judging.
Mariah is not a cock-blocker! She would never…
Besides, I scoff, it’s not like I wanted any of those guys to hit on me—we were just talking. I was standing at the keg, and they came up for beer, not to hit on me. And I certainly would never hit on a guy—not on purpose, anyway.
If Mariah, Cameron, and Tessa happened to come up at that exact same time and join the chat, and Mariah just happened to have better chemistry with someone, that has nothing at all to do with me.
She would never purposely…
I feel my brow tighten and furrow, glancing at my feet, at the open-toed, brown leather wedges buckled around my ankles. Cute. Pretty.
Sunk into the worn, stained carpet that’s been beat to hell from all the abuse, still standing in the spot I just declared I was walking away from.
My gaze wanders, settling on those stupid work boots.
Who wears that kind of footwear these days? Seriously? Lumberjacks, construction workers, and bad male rappers, that’s who, not twenty-something-year-old college guys at a house party. What is he even doing?
My lips purse with annoyance.
My eyes slide up his denim-clad legs, quickly passing over the slight bulge of his crotch—he doesn’t have a hard-on, but since I know he has a dick in his pants, naturally I want to look. Narrow waist. Belt. T-shirt half tucked at his hips.
Broad chest.
“Hey, look at you, leaving and shit. Good job following through.” With one hand clasped around his red cup, he smacks it with the other in a mock clap, holding it forward so it doesn’t spill.
My god, could he embarrass me any more?
“Your friends went that way.” He points, the mammoth paw at the end of his hairy arm raised and directed toward the back of the house.
“Thanks.”
“No prob—I’m here to help.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Helping?”
“I do what I can.”
I cross my arms over my breasts, mindful that my cleavage is now plumped and uncomfortably on display. I immediately uncross them—from his bird’s-eye view, no doubt he can see right down the valley between my boobs. “I didn’t ask for you to give me advice or stalk my friends or cast judgment on me.”
“Then you shouldn’t make it so damn easy.” He has the nerve to laugh, tipping back his beard-covered neck. The stubble is thick and dark blond, and I want to pull on it to get him to stop talking.
A few deeps breaths and I’ve sorted my insides out, quelling the unease that has been growing in the pit of my stomach. I smooth a hand over my abs, down the pleats in my pretty yellow sundress—a nervous habit I’ve caught myself doing on more than one occasion.
Expel a long, drawn-out breath he won’t be able to hear above the noise.
“It was nice meeting you.”
Only it wasn’t, because we didn’t actually meet. I have no idea what his name is, where he’s from, what his deal is.
He tilts his head. “Same.”
“Bye.”
When I chance a glance over my shoulder, the behemoth is watching, cup to his lips. It’s paused there, suspended, dark eyes boring into me.
Wow. He really is freaking huge. And honestly, not polite and not at all cute.
With a grimace, I give my head a shake and keep walking.
THIRD FRIDAY
“The Friday where he’s a combination of Neanderthal and Prince Charming.”
Teddy
This is the third weekend in a row we’ve been at the rugby house, and I don’t have any solid proof, but I’m almost positive Mariah is hooking up with one of them. She hasn’t said anything to me about it, but why else would we keep coming back? She either likes someone here or she’s already sleeping with them.
I fiddle with the cup in my hand, conscious of the fact that once again, I’ve been left alone to fend for myself while my childhood friend works the room, having ditched me within minutes of our arrival.
It stings a little, if I’m being honest.
I wouldn’t have come tonight if I had known she was going to once again leave me hanging.
She never used to be like this; in high school, we were inseparable. When we began applying to colleges, against her parents’ and my mom’s better judgment, we applied to all the same schools. Lived together in the dorms our freshmen and sophomore years. Now, it’s our junior year.
We used to be attached at the hip, and now it seems I’ve become a second thought where Mariah is concerned.
In any case, I’m not going to get stuck standing by the keg tonight and risk the chance of being caught by that…that…