Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 124690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
I’m over it today. My mother has risen from the dead. After three weeks of silence, she contacted me yesterday, informing me that she will pick me up tomorrow. This, along with all the other garbage in my life, makes me want to grab Reed and lock us in his room.
Is that too much to ask? It must be. Because here I sit, like a pathetic girlfriend who can’t think for herself, waiting for her boyfriend. His football coach has called an emergency meeting after school. How annoying.
“Explain to me again why I can’t go back to the penthouse?”
Reed leans over and kisses me. “I need you close.”
I almost laugh. “Reed, that is ridiculous.” My lips twitch. “Come on, I don’t want to wait around while you and the other players get lectured about having personal trainers over the summer. Or what you’re supposed to tell your chefs to prepare for you.” I know I sound whiny, but sometimes it works with him, so I give it a shot.
He laughs and pulls me in for another kiss. This time, he tries to sneak in some tongue. I kiss him back for a moment because I can’t stop myself until we hear catcalls from his teammates.
“Great. Exactly what I need—more people talking about me.” Crossing my arms, I close myself off.
“Don’t do that.” He grabs my hands. “Fuck them.” He motions at the team. “This is not going to take long, and then we’ll go home together.” His tone signals this is the end of the discussion.
Getting butterflies when he says ‘home,’ I know it’s silly, but I can’t wait until we’re old enough to get our own place.
With a frustrated sigh, I say, “I hate this. I’m going to have to sit here with all of the football players’ girlfriends. Pretend like I’m on the phone, so they don’t talk to me, then watch them whisper behind my back about you.” At least I see a flash of regret in his eyes.
“Tess, come on. I know this has been a shitty couple of weeks, but it’s getting better. School is almost out. What will make you happy? Whatever my kitten wants, I will give her.” He winks, damn him. “And we can’t forget it’s your birthday.” He rubs my lips with his thumb, his eyes starting to change as I lightly suck the tip.
“Whatever.” When I bite his thumb, he grins and I roll my eyes at him. “Why can’t Jay take me home?”
He stiffens and pulls back. “He is not allowed to be alone with you,” he says through his teeth.
“What is your problem with him?”
He glances in the direction of the guys filing into the locker room. “I have to go. I don’t have a problem with Jay. But I don’t trust him, especially with you.”
“That is crazy—all he does is his job.”
“Don’t make excuses for him. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
After I give him a dramatic sigh, I stomp up the bleachers, scooting into the corner.
Reed grins. “Perfect. Now stay there where no one can see you.”
“That’s the plan.” Smiling sweetly, I wave to him. He stops and stares at me, then climbs the bleachers after me. I squeal as he grabs for me.
“Go, so we can get out of here.” I laugh.
“One more kiss.”
A loud whistle interrupts us. “Saddington, you plan on joining us, or are you going to keep groping your girlfriend?” Coach scowls and walks back into the locker room.
“Don’t move, Kitten.” He points at me and runs down the bleachers.
“You’re so weird.”
He grins, making my stomach flutter. I wish I could control myself more. Staring at his incredible ass as he takes the bleachers two at a time, I tear my eyes away to my backpack and pull out my history notes. I need to focus, concentrate. Reed sucks. He always distracts me. This gym always smells like sweat and feet and I hate it, I think, wrinkling my nose.
Leaning back, I try to keep my eyes from wandering. But I start to daydream about Reed. Somehow, I’m picturing if I want a train and a veil for my wedding or simply a veil. Groaning, I snap my notebook shut and it echoes in the almost-empty gym. I stretch and glance at the clock on top of the basketball hoops. “God, it’s only been fifteen minutes.”
Why, do I listen to Reed?
My attention is piqued when I see a guy come out of the coed bathroom. He is wearing a gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head covering his face. He puts his hands in his pockets and slinks out of the gym. Creepy. It’s hot and muggy out, so of course I start to visualize that the guy is a mass murderer or a terrorist. What the hell is wrong with me?