Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Inside the supply room, it was difficult to locate the markers, so we took opposite sides of the long shelves to search for them.
“I need to talk to you about Parents’ Day,” I said, and Lark grew motionless. “Our parents will likely see each other, and I didn’t know how it might all go down.”
“Shit, I keep forgetting about that.” He frowned. “Maybe they won’t even recognize each other.”
“But what if they do?” I held my breath, awaiting his reply.
“I’ll mention it to my mom. She’ll be cool.”
I breathed out. “I’m sorry about all this. But I—”
“Don’t stress; it’ll all work out.” He pointed at the highest shelf. “Found them!”
“Awesome,” I replied, watching as he tried to reach them. “Here, let me.”
“You better not make any shrimp jokes.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” But even I had trouble reaching them. I fumbled the pack, and they went tumbling down. We both tried to catch the pack at the same time and ended up knocking into each other. “Oof, sorry about that.”
I reached out to steady him and realized we were standing close. Very close. When our eyes connected, Lark’s breath hitched. I couldn’t find it in me to move even a muscle. I could smell his clean, soapy scent and feel his soft panting breaths against my lips, and fuck if I didn’t catch a whiff of watermelon too. My heart was throbbing against my chest.
Outside of the field, it was the closest I’d ever allowed myself to get to another guy—especially one I was attracted to. Was that what this was? I was attracted to Lark? Yeah…yeah, I was. Wildly so.
“Lark, I…” I let my words trail off, unable to arrange them in my head right then. Not that I knew what I was going to say.
“We should head back,” he said, but he didn’t move, just stared back at me.
What did that mean? At the least, maybe he liked being around me too.
When we heard a noise in the hallway, we reluctantly broke apart. I picked up the pack of markers from the floor and followed him out. His cheeks stayed flushed the rest of the class, and likely mine did too. Our gazes kept clashing for elongated staring contests that made my skin feel all prickly.
The feeling didn’t go away all day.
That night, Spencer and I were in our dorm room, studying. We had just gotten back from the dining hall, where we’d stuffed our faces after football practice. We both cracked open our laptops to get some assignments done.
I couldn’t help wondering where Lark did his studying. Maybe at the kitchen island or in his room. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t live on campus because I’d be trying to seek out all sorts of ways to talk to him instead of studying.
“Your parents coming on Friday?” Spencer asked.
My stomach constricted just thinking about the spectacle Parents’ Day was, but families seemed to love all the hoopla and attention to detail. Sort of like a pep rally on steroids. Coach had volunteered the team to assist the committee in putting together the decorations, which included flower arrangements and balloons. It would help kill time that morning, so it was fine by me.
“Yeah,” I said, “they wouldn’t miss it.” Unfortunately. “Yours?”
“Same.” Spencer made a frustrated noise.
“What?”
“It’s nothing, just…sometimes I wish I could change my major. At least your parents are cool with engineering.”
“Sure, as long as I get a high-paying, reputable job after graduation. That’s really all they care about—how it will look on the surface.”
“Well, our parents do have to keep up appearances,” he replied, knowing full well what I meant. I was glad we could connect when it came to our families and their wealth and social standing. And how much it sucked sometimes. Of course, someone like Lark might think the topic was ridiculous, and I got that. But every family had their skeletons, didn’t they? “At least you won’t be miserable, though.”
“Maybe you could break it to them gently, over dinner Friday or something. Tell your dad you love your political science class and want to change your business major.”
“And not work in his company?” He frowned. “He’s relying on me to take over someday.”
“Maybe that’s in your sister’s future and not yours.”
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You’re kidding, right? According to my dad, she’ll be great as a nurse or teacher someday.”
“Welcome to the twenty-first century,” I scoffed. “God, I despise parental units sometimes. They ruin everything.”
“What have your parents ruined for you?”
I grew quiet as I considered my response carefully. Christ, why couldn’t I talk to my best friend about the real things bothering me? He’d always had my back; why would this be different?
My voice shook as I pushed out the words. “I’m going to tell you something, but you have to swear not to tell anyone.”