Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Why the fuck should I care that she has another man’s jersey on? She already confirmed that they’re not hooking up, but seeing his name on her back and knowing it’s a jersey he actually wears grates on my nerves. The sound that escapes my lips is typically reserved for times on the ice when my team is losing, so Lucas stops walking.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“Nothing.” I wave a hand. “Go back to being a nosy fuck and ignore me.”
I keep looking through pictures. Josslyn looks nonchalant, lounging on the chair. She’s wearing shorts underneath that huge jersey, and her smooth tanned legs are crossed as she listens to whatever fuck-face is saying. Tate, on the other hand, reeks of desperation, with the way he’s leaning over the table. I keep scrolling through the pictures and find more of the same.
When they’re finished with their little meeting, they face each other, and Josslyn says something before she turns around and walks away. At least, she didn’t do something stupid like hug him. I inwardly groan. I just need to fuck her and get this over with. In the next picture, she has her phone pressed to her ear as she walks down the street with a smile on her face that makes me wonder who the hell is on the other end of that call.
I exit out of the text messages and open up the first social media icon I see. She’s permanently in my search history, so I don’t have to type out her name anymore. She’s the only thing in my search history, I realize. That gives me pause. I click her name and look at her feed.
Her last post was this morning and it’s a video of her wearing the jersey. I glance around to make sure my cousin isn’t here, and I click it. Josslyn’s wearing a sports bra and tiny shorts, and she smiles at the camera as she lifts up Tiago’s jersey.
“You guys remember the bet I made with T?” she asks, pouting. “It’s my turn to pay up.” She puts the jersey on and fixes her hair as she sits down in front of the camera. “I’m only wearing it for a few hours. That was the deal.” She glances down at herself and shrugs. “I’m just going to pretend it’s mine.” Her eyes sparkle, and my chest squeezes. “To be fair, he’s wearing mine today, as well, so stay tuned.”
I feel my jaw set. He’s wearing her jersey? What kind of bullshit bet is this? Josslyn goes on talking about her day as I exit out of the app and find her name on my phone, my fingers flying before I can process what I’m doing.
Me: you need to come up with a better bet
I watch the little bubbles as she types back.
Josslyn: why? You don’t like me wearing another man’s jersey?
I grip my phone tighter, a part of me wishing I could take back my words, but I can’t help it. If I don’t say something, my head is going to explode.
Me: you know I don’t
Josslyn: are you this possessive over every woman you hook up with?
I frown and lower my phone. What am I supposed to say? That she consumes my every thought? That no woman has ever made me feel these … emotions before? Fuck no. The fact that I’m even thinking those things pisses me off. I lift my phone and answer honestly.
Me: no
I set down my phone and shut my eyes as I lean back on the couch.
“I don’t think she’s going to be a one-and-done,” Lucas says out of nowhere.
I sit up straight. “Yes, she is.”
He laughs. “You sent her flowers!”
I bite my tongue and pick up some papers. “Flowers have nothing to do with me fucking her one time and being done.”
“To you, maybe.” He cocks his head. “You’re going as her date to a charity event.”
“For charity.”
“You sent a woman flowers, are accompanying her to an event, which is unheard of, and almost got into a fist fight with a guy.” His brows lift. “Damn, saying it out loud…” He tilts his head. “You like her.”
“I’d like to fuck her.”
He chuckles. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Am I just telling myself that? No. I’m attracted to her and I know she’s worthy of more than a douchebag cheater who doesn’t even know what kind of flowers to buy her. That doesn’t mean I like her in that way.
I sigh heavily. “I sent her flowers because I am petty. Roses don’t even match her personality, and I’m going to a charity event with her. For charity.”
“Don’t match her personality…” he says with a quiet chuckle.
“You’re making something out of nothing.”
“If you like her, you need to at least call off your hounds. What do you think she’s going to say when she finds out you’ve had someone following her for over a year?”