Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Just a little water,” he whispers, erasing the stupid tear that slipped without permission.
We both know it’s a lie, and because of it, my smile seems to slide right back into place.
“So.” I turn away, peeking at him from the corner of my eye. “How boring is football?”
His glare is quick, but his laughter is quicker. “Well, Pretty Little.” He leads me from the water. “Let me tell you all about it…”
And he does.
For hours, he tries all sorts of ways to explain the game. He scribbles lines in the sand, Xs and Os all over the place, and when he hands me the stick, telling me to show him where the ball is going, I slide it across his entire drawing and take off laughing when he gasps in horror.
We play catch, and he shows me how to grip the laces for the perfect throw. The others join, and suddenly there are teams. The competitive nature of each and every male, and Lolli of course, shines through.
By the end of the day, Ari, her best friend Cameron, and I are panting and dropping our asses into the sand, exhausted to the max, but not the boys.
“How are they still able to run? I can hardly talk.”
The girls laugh, leaning back and pointing their faces to the sky, the sun directly above us now.
“Girl, those boys have stamina for days.” Cameron pops an eye open, grinning. “Well, them and Lolli.”
Grinning, I face the group, shaking my head when they go straight from the game to the ground, showing not a single sigh of expelled energy outside the sheen of sweat gleaming across their skin.
Lolli bends, clapping her hands, and starts playing the role of the coach as the boys pair up and start to wrestle—a result of their inability to agree on who won.
Wrestling.
Boyfriend.
Baby.
My smile falls, and I jump to my feet, spinning and heading in the opposite direction of everyone else…but I don’t make it far.
“Sneaking away, are we? You know the girls are about to walk down to the pier for lunch?”
I freeze, swallowing, and force my lips to curve up as I spin around.
Chase, Mason’s best friend, is dusting sand from his knees as he jogs for me.
“Yeah, I’m not hungry. Just going to grab a drink off the deck and sit for a while.”
He flashes me pearly whites and strides forward until he’s ahead, whirling to walk backward so he can face me as he speaks. “Perfect. I’m parched.”
A grin pulls at my mouth. “Parched?”
He chuckles, turning and taking the stairs up the deck two at a time. “Aren’t you all sophisticated and shit.”
“Oh yeah, I’m a real scholar.” I wince at my own words.
Even if I were, which I’m not, it wouldn’t matter now. You can’t exactly go to college with a baby.
Deaton is though. He has a 4.2 GPA and a full-ride offer for athletics. He’s a freaking genius, and I’m the dummy who’s destroying everything.
Chase’s features soften a moment, but he quickly replaces the expression with an easygoing grin. Digging into the ice chest, he comes back with two waters.
He settles in the space at my side, offering me one, and we sit in silence for a little while, doing nothing but watching his friends and the many other people randomly making their way down the sand.
After several minutes, Chase sits back with a sigh. “It’s not usually this busy here.”
I look his way, and he continues, his eyes staying on the passersby.
“Summer always gets a little crazy. Everyone wants to hit the beach at least once, and they drive in from all over to find a spot like this.”
“Not a fan of big crowds?” I wonder.
He shrugs, taking a long drink. “I don’t know, I guess I don’t like…change.” He trails off, like he’s not so sure that’s the right word.
I’m not so sure it makes sense in context, but I do sort of get what he’s saying. If you’re used to something being a certain way, a crowd of strangers will definitely throw that off.
“The best time to be here is, well, about when we have to leave.” He chuckles. “August, September. You should stick around. I think you’ll like it.”
When I glance his way, I find he’s already staring, and around us, the voices of the others grow louder, the boys headed this way.
“If the gang gets to be too much, let me know,” he says before standing up and catching a ball no one warned him was coming. Mason appears then, throwing his arm around his best friend.
“We’re playing heads-up, and you’re on our team. Win and get whatever your little heart desires.” Both boys smile down at me, and I can’t help but smile back.
They step away, setting up to play on the picnic table, so I take a moment to myself, realizing the heaviness that is my life has been absent nearly all day, and in its place is an easy lightheartedness I’m not sure I’ve ever known.