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)
It’s growing on me.
FIRST SATURDAY
“Since when was Hairy AF such a bad thing?”
Teddy
“I lay awake all night agonizing over something, and I feel terrible about being so insensitive.”
Kip’s brows go up as he pours himself a cup of coffee and leans his back against the counter, legs crossed at the ankles.
His hair is a mess, worse than mine—sweaty and sticking to his forehead, piled in a man bun, he’s added a sweat band for his early morning run.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about your parents.”
“Uh…why?” His voice cracks as it warms up, not having been used yet.
“I’m really sorry about what happened to them, Kip.”
“What happened to them?”
“You know,” I hedge, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.
Instead, his body leans forward, head tipping at an angle as he waits for me to finish my sentence.
“You know…” I try again. “How they…”
His head cocks. Brows go up as he sips from the white, porcelain coffee cup.
Slurps.
I try again. “It must not be easy living alone. Lonely, even.”
Kip shrugs his massive shoulders. “Beats living with roommates—or with my family.”
“Kip!” I gasp in horror. “You can’t say things like that!” I’m one step from making the sign of the cross.
“It’s the truth.”
“That is so wrong on so many levels!” My voice is an outraged gasp.
“Why are you acting so strange?”
“You’re the one being impervious!”
He presses two fingers to his temple. “First of all, don’t use such big words so early in the morning. Second of all—what the fuck is going on right now?”
“It must have been hard on you when they passed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your parents…passing.”
“Wait—you think my parents are dead?”
“I mean, why else would you live in this house all by yourself?”
“Because they bought it?”
“Who did?”
“My parents?” He’s staring at me like I’ve officially lost my mind.
“Wait, so—they’re not dead? They haven’t passed?”
“Stop saying passed—you sound deranged.” He laughs. “No, they’re not dead. The only thing my parents pass these days is the salt at the dinner table. Jesus Christ, Teddy, relax.”
His voice cracks as he lets out a loud bark, bending at the waist, really milking this for all it’s worth. I feel like such an asshole.
My eyes narrow into slits. “I hate you right now.”
“What the hell did I do!” Kip can barely catch his breath. “I never said my freaking parents weren’t alive, you just assumed they were. Oh my god, this is too good. It’s too good.”
“But…”
None of this makes any sense.
“Wow. You just made my day, I swear—goddamn you’re cute.”
“But…why would they buy you such a nice house? Why not a dump closer to campus? Who does that?”
When Kip presents me with his back, his shoulders give one last shake, hands busying themselves on the countertop by ripping open a packet of sugar and ignoring my question. “Let’s not get into it.”
Okay, so he doesn’t want to talk about it.
Fine.
“Someday, though? If we’re gonna be friends, Kip, we should be able to talk.”
“Jesus,” he mutters with a snort. “This is why I play rugby and stay away from girls.”
“Why? Because you don’t like having friends?”
“Yes.” He turns to face me. “No, because girls make everything complicated.”
Complicated?
“Are you being serious right now? I didn’t say I wanted to marry you! I said I wanted to be friends. That wasn’t a proposal—settle down, big guy.”
God, why are guys like this? It reminds me of the time my friend Sarah invited this guy Dave to a baseball game; when she offered him one of her spare tickets, he said he couldn’t go because he wasn’t ready for a relationship.
Idiot.
We had a good laugh about it afterward, but the point is: sometimes guys are way more drama than girls are.
It seems like Kip might be one of those guys.
It takes everything I have not to keep rolling my eyes at the grown man-child standing in front of me, but I manage. He’s being so ridiculous right now.
“Fine. You want to be my hairy godmother, be my hairy godmother.” I sniff. “And if you don’t want to be friends, we won’t be friends. Gotcha. That we can do.”
Kip tips his head back and talks at the ceiling. “Now you sound butt-hurt.”
“Me? Butt-hurt? Please.” As if. “I’m just clarifying.”
There is no hiding that stupid smirk on his dumb face. “Don’t worry—I get it.”
I lean back in his kitchen chair and cross my arms. “What exactly is it you think you get?”
One of his giant paws waves in the air. “I get how girls are. You want a relationship, I’m a good-looking, single guy, I have this house…”
“Oh my god—stop before you make me laugh.”
“Whatever, Teddy. You know it’s true.”
“Are you insane? You sound crazy.”
“You see all this”—he gestures those hands up and down his upper torso—“and I become a prime target.”
I push myself up, rising from the table. “You are delusional.”
He snickers. “Then why are you getting so defensive?”