Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
After a senior party, Dawson and Ryan had come home tipsy, Ryan had passed out, and Dawson and Morgan had kissed. There was apparently a little groping too before Dawson freaked and left, never to speak to Morgan about it again.
“Doubt it. Besides, every time he visited Ryan from college, he avoided me but always made damned sure I heard him talking about all the girls he was dating.” He dipped his head in a self-deprecating way when we passed a group of students on the sidewalk, as if they’d know what we were discussing. The incident evidently still affected Morgan, and the idea of having to see Dawson again had brought it front and center in his mind. “If you could’ve seen the look on his face that night after he kissed me—first shock, then disgust when my hand wandered down his back, to like, you know, pull him in. As if I was corrupting him or wasn’t good enough. It was the most humiliating experience of my life.”
“I know it was, and clearly, you’re still rattled by him or the idea of seeing him again, which sucks.” I frowned. “Lots of people freak out their first time or if they’re deep in the closet. He was a football star and popular. Plus, you were his best friend’s brother.”
“As if that excuses his behavior,” he scoffed.
“Of course it doesn’t. You deserved better. You still do,” I said, nudging his shoulder. If we were home, I’d have pulled him in for a hug because he obviously needed one. “The best revenge is to show him your life turned out pretty damned good. Make him regret how he treated you.”
“Which is why it would be cool to have my best friend there with me. For moral support,” Morgan said as I pulled open the door to the gym and we stepped inside. Morgan liked to show up mid-morning when most students were in class, but today it seemed fuller than usual. He headed straight to the row of treadmills, which was part of his normal routine. That and weight training with me. I even caught him admiring his biceps in the mirror a time or two over the last few months. It was endearing, really. But also important that he felt confident and strong.
Morgan added, “Ryan is still clueless about what went down, and I sure as hell would never out Dawson to him.”
“I get why it’ll feel awkward around him,” I said as I watched him program the machine. “And I would be the most handsome date you’ve ever had. Dress me up in a snazzy suit, and you won’t be able to keep your eyes off me all night. You won’t even notice What’s-His-Name is there.”
“Okay, goofball,” he replied with a laugh and rolled his eyes. He clipped the emergency string to his shirt and started walking at a slow pace to get his balance. “He’ll probably have a date too. I just want him to see that I’m not still that pathetic kid who thought he hung the stars, and I especially don’t want to see any pity in his eyes. I have a full life, and he was just a blip on the radar.”
He rubbed at his chest as if the memory still burned. It was his first time being hurt by someone, and I knew from experience those often cut the deepest. The guy I lost my virginity with ghosted me after, but thankfully, he went to a different school.
“So it’s a date. I’ll have to see if my suit from graduation still fits me. Your mom might be right, though, and maybe by then you’ll meet someone you like enough to bring.”
“Oh my God, you’re as bad as her.” He shook his head. “And how awkward would that be? Hey, we had a great first date. Want to come to my brother’s wedding?”
I barked out a laugh. “The guy might not even change his phone number afterward.”
Leaving him to his cardio workout, I headed to the free-weight section across the room, passing some of the baseball players on leg machines, including Vickers. We fist-bumped, and I waved to a couple of his teammates. As I started my biceps curls, I overheard some of their conversations and felt a brief pang of longing over their inside jokes and camaraderie.
But that didn’t mean I wanted to play again. I could’ve tried out last season just to see if my arm would hold up despite the temperamental twinges I still felt in the muscle. Then I remembered the long, grueling schedule, the bus rides and practices, and figured my time had already passed. Besides, working toward my future plans was a better idea. Huh. Guess I sounded all grown up and shit. My parents and sister would be proud. I was always the least serious person in the family unless it came to something I was passionate about. And I was hell-bent on getting into that physical therapy program. I had to get through Anatomy and Physiology first, trying not to puke around the cadavers in the process. I’d heard enough horror stories from classmates who had trouble stomaching it.