Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Problem is, I don’t have any idea what comes next.
“Hey, Captain, I move to call the Relationship Status Inquisition into session,” Bucky shouts out above the noise of the showers.
“I second that motion,” Jesse calls back.
“The motion carries.” Hunter stands in the stall beside me. I feel him staring at the side of my face. “This session of the Relationship Status Inquisition is now open. Bucky, call your first witness.”
“I call Joe Foster to the stand.”
“Present!” Foster gurgles out under the spray of his shower faucet at the opposite end of the room.
“I fucking hate you guys,” I say as I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist.
“Is it true, Mr. Foster, that Conor Edwards did publicly and embarrassingly drop to his knees to profess his love to Kappa Party Girl after he was known to have hooked up with Instagram Natalie?”
“Wait, what?” Foster asks blankly. “Oh, at the banquet thing. Yeah. It was fucking gross.”
“And did he subsequently bring Kappa Party Girl home that evening?”
“Yo, Bucky, I didn’t know you could use four-syllable words,” Gavin says, ribbing him as they leave the showers.
I head to my locker to get dressed, the guys breathing down my neck.
“Yeah, they spent a long time in his bedroom. Alone.” Foster’s going to find his car stuffed full of dildos sometime in the very near future.
“And they FaceTimed the other day,” Matt pipes up, a big stupid grin on his face. “He called her.”
A round of mock gasps travels through the room.
Guess Matt can look forward to some dildos too.
“You can all eat shit,” I drawl.
“I seem to remember,” Hunter says, “you conspiring to interfere in my dick affairs. Payback’s a bitch.”
“At least I don’t need you to make out with my girlfriend to get me to fuck her.”
“Ouch,” Bucky laughs. “He’s got you there, Cap.”
“So this is a real thing?” Hunter asks, unfazed by my jab at his stupid chastity bargain. “You and…”
“Taylor. And yeah, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
No, it isn’t real, technically. And it kind of sucks lying to the guys.
But also, what makes it not real? I mean, I’m not going to sleep with other women or date, because that wouldn’t be respectful to either Taylor or those potential women. She hasn’t said as much out loud, but I suspect she feels the same way on the subject. So that checks the monogamy box.
And okay, yeah, we’re not screwing or kissing or touching at all, but that doesn’t mean I’m opposed to those things. I think if I could make Taylor see herself the way I do, make her appreciate her body the way I do—fuuuuuck, do I appreciate it—then maybe she’ll loosen up a little and be open to the screwing and kissing and touching part. So that checks the attraction box.
Truth is, Taylor’s fun to hang out with and I like talking to her. She’s unpretentious and kinda hilarious. Best of all, she doesn’t expect anything from me. I don’t have to be some version of me that she’s concocted in her head or meet some wild expectations that only wind up disappointing both of us. And she doesn’t judge—not once has she made me feel like she looks down on me or is embarrassed by my choices or reputation. I don’t need her to approve, just accept, and I get the sense that she likes me for me.
Worst case, I get a good friend out of the deal. Best case, I screw her brains out. Win-win either way.
“It is what it is,” I say, pulling a hoodie over my head. “We’re having fun.”
Fortunately, the guys drop it, mostly because they have the attention span of fruit flies. Hunter’s already texting Demi on his way out the door, while Matt and Foster start discussing the squid movie we all watched the other night.
On my way out of the hockey facility, my phone rings. “MOM” flashes on the screen.
“Go on ahead,” I tell Matt. “I’ll be right there.” As my teammate ambles off toward the parking lot, I slow my gait and answer the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey Mister,” Mom says. No matter how old I get, it’s like I’m still five in her eyes. “I haven’t heard from you in ages. Everything okay out there in the tundra?”
I chuckle. “Sun’s actually out today, if you can believe it.” I don’t mention that the temperature is only fifty degrees—and it’s the end of frickin’ March. Spring is taking its sweet-ass time getting to New England.
“That’s good. I was worried you’d finish your first east coast winter with a Vitamin D deficiency.”
“Nope. All good here. What about you? What’s happening with the fires?” Wildfires had been wreaking havoc on the west coast for the past few weeks. It’s been making me antsy knowing my mom’s out there breathing in all that crap.