Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Here ya go,” Cindy says, sliding two plates stacked with pancakes onto the table. She plops a bottle of syrup between them. “Anything else?”
Savvy blinks at the food as if she forgot why she was here. “No. Thank you.”
“Thanks, Cindy,” I say, nodding at her before she turns away.
Savvy and I both dig into our food, but after a couple bites she sets her fork down, licks her perfect pink lips, and pushes her plate away.
“You don’t like them?” I ask.
She screws up her face. “I love them. They’re delicious. But they’re all carbs, and . . .”
I arch a brow, waiting, and when she doesn’t finish her sentence, I jokingly say, “And you’re trying to make weight for your fight?”
She rolls her eyes, pink blossoming into her cheeks. “I probably had enough carbs with the booze tonight.” She shudders slightly and meets my gaze. “Ever drink a mix of SunnyD and 99 Bananas?”
I feel myself blanch. “Why would anyone ever do that?”
She laughs. “It was tasty, but . . .” She shakes her head. “Schnapps are always a bad idea. They hit different, and not in a good way.”
I tap the end of my fork handle to her plate. “You should eat. Carbs be damned.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’ll have to snuggle up to my fluffy ass when they catch up with me.”
I’m pretty sure she’s parroting Chuck’s words there, and the realization makes rage simmer in my blood. That sonofabitch doesn’t deserve shit, let alone a beautiful woman like this. “Yeah, unfortunately for me, I’m not,” I say before I can think better of it.
She straightens and holds my gaze for a long time. The silence stretches between us, and I can almost feel the weight of her unhappiness bearing down on it.
“Why are you with him?” There are a dozen questions I have no business asking, and that one’s at the top of the list. I’m not sorry for putting it out there, though.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Lie. She knows exactly what I mean, but she’s embarrassed now and doesn’t want to share. I put down my fork. “You’re gorgeous, Savvy, and from what I can tell, you have a great sense of humor. You’re obviously unhappy. Why stay with an ass who makes you feel like shit? Why stay with a guy who makes you not want to go home at night?”
She shoves out of the booth. “I should go.”
Fuck.
She digs in her bra—Lord help me—and comes up with her phone and her ID before cursing. “I don’t have any cash, but tomorrow I’ll drop some money at the frat house to pay you back for my food.”
I grunt. There are so many things wrong with what she just said. “One, I don’t want your money. You didn’t even eat. Two, if you leave money there, it will never get to me. I’m not involved with Lambda Chi—wasn’t even when I was an undergrad. I was at the party with a friend tonight, not because I’m a brother or whatever.”
She bites the corner of her lip. I swear blue balls have fucked with my brain, because this is not the moment to wonder how her mouth tastes. Not the moment to contemplate how she’d respond to the scrape of teeth on her lips and neck.
“Where can I leave money?”
I shake my head and climb out of the booth myself. Cindy’s pancakes are the best, and it’s a shame, but I’ve been so distracted by Savvy that I wasn’t really tasting them anyway. I throw some cash on the table. “You don’t need to pay me back, and I’m taking you home. Come on.” I don’t give her a chance to shoot me down before I head out the door in front of her.
The night’s still hot, but some of the humidity has slipped away with the sun and the sky is clear, with a few stars twinkling overhead. I can’t get over the stars in Crossport. They don’t stand a chance to shine against the lights of Manhattan.
“I live close,” she says, not looking at me. “I’m fine walking.”
“I need to stretch my legs.” I could add that it’s too fucking late for her to be walking alone, but I’m getting the impression that she’d only be more stubborn in the face of that argument.
She studies me for a beat before giving a curt nod. “Okay. I’m over on Sixth and Crawford.”
I already knew that, having had the dubious pleasure of visiting Chuck a time or two. “Cool.”
The scuff of our steps on the sidewalk mingles with the rustle of the wind through the trees.
She tilts her face up to the sky and sighs. “It’s a beautiful night,” she says, echoing my thoughts from moments ago.
We stroll slowly toward Crawford, and I get the impression that despite leaving the diner in a rush, she isn’t in any hurry to get home. “I was just thinking the same thing.”