Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Mary,” the girl said, still wearing that bored expression, though she somehow managed to sound nice despite it. Her eyes were a little glazed, lazy, like she was a touch high.
“Mary,” Giana repeated. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Giana, this is Riley.”
Before I could stop him, Leo squeezed in between Mary and Julep, throwing his arm around each of them. “And I’m Leo. Now that we all know each other, what do you say we take this little ménage…” He counted each one of them on a finger. “Cinq up to my room?”
Giana and Riley just smiled and rolled their eyes because they were used to my best friend’s sense of humor. But Mary shrugged him off, nose wrinkling as if he stank. “I’d rather peel off my own toenails.”
“And I’d rather you take me somewhere private and let me see all those tattoos,” Leo said, ignoring her very obvious dismissal of him as his eyes raked over her exposed skin.
She shook her head at him, disbelief and disgust mixing on her face. “You really are clueless, aren’t you?”
“Desperately. I need someone to teach me everything about the world.” He released where his arm was around Julep and turned his full attention on Mary. “You in the market to be my new mommy?”
Mary scoffed, turned on her heels, and Leo waggled his brows at all of us before chasing after her.
“Poor girl,” Giana remarked, but she smiled anyway.
I took the break in the conversation as an opportunity, along with the marginal space between a couple of my teammates and the backside of Julep. The keg lay just beyond them, and before I could talk myself out of it, I pushed through.
It was a tight squeeze, and the front of me brushed along the back of her, the distinct scent of raspberries and sage hitting my nostrils as I did. I tilted my head down, lips and nose just inches from the back of her neck.
“Excuse me,” I muttered, though I slowed my pace, savoring the touch as I brought a hand to her hip as I passed.
Julep stiffened, keeping her jaw angled toward the girls.
But her eyes slipped back, over her shoulder, and found me.
My fingers blazed where they touched her skin, every inch of me lighting up as I wedged myself between her and my teammates. It happened in a matter of seconds, but those seconds lingered like years, like decades of a fire burning in my chest. I held my breath, noted that she held hers, too.
And then, just as quickly, I was through, and I released her, not so much as looking back over my shoulder once the contact was broken.
I headed straight for the keg like it hadn’t meant a thing, like I’d barely noticed.
My heart thundered the entire way.
I realized I should have sobered up as the night went on, but I found myself drinking more and more because it felt like the only thing I could do as I watched Julep from across the party.
She fit in seamlessly, letting Giana and Riley tout her through the crowd, introducing her to people. They even conned her and Mary into a game of quarters, which I only half-watched as I gave Blake Russo a pep talk in the kitchen.
“I’m too slow,” he said again, even after my insistence that he was faster than he thought. “I just… I clam up. Even when I know what the move is.”
“So, tell me why,” I said, nudging my fist to his chest. “Why don’t you follow through with your gut instinct?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
His mouth pulled to the side. “I guess… I guess because I’m scared. I’m afraid I’ll pull the trigger too soon and not see something, get intercepted or read the play wrong.”
“And so what if you do?”
He gave me a perplexed look.
“So what if you get picked off? Or sacked? Or if you throw it far past your target? You know what happens then?”
Blake blinked as if to say yeah, you idiot, we lose the game.
I leaned in closer. “That play ends, and the next one starts.” I shook my head. “Every player makes mistakes. Every quarterback overthrows and underthrows and gets taken to the ground more than a few times. We all throw picks. We all fuck up. It’s part of the game. The key is not letting that shit get in your head or stop you from making the play you know needs to be made. Trust your instinct, so that you can untap the potential you have instead of playing it safe in what’s certain. And newsflash — even when you think something is certain, it never is.” I clapped his shoulder. “Trust me, once you let go, once you make a mistake and then realize it’s not the end of the world?” I shrugged. “That’s when the real magic is unlocked.”