Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
He didn’t wait. My new best friend, who didn’t know he was my best friend, grabbed three more blueberry scone/cookies and held them in one hand while he fed himself with the other in neat little bites that had me smiling like a moron on the inside—all right, and the outside. But it was called for, and I had no shame.
I could feel myself going up to the balls of my feet again. Still happy. So freaking happy I was going to be happy for the rest of the month, at least. Maybe my whole life. “Do you play football too?”
CJ bobbed his head while he chewed his scone. “For the White Oaks. Receiver. Damn, these are good. There’s really rosemary in them?”
The White Oaks were Houston’s professional football team. They weren’t the best, and most of the time, they weren’t the worst either. The majority of what I knew was that they were a newish team and their quarterback was young. I couldn’t tell how old CJ was; he had a face that could have been twenty-two or thirty-four. What I did know was that I liked him.
“Yes. Thank you. Where are you from?”
“Philly, originally. Then I spent four years in Austin.”
That had me perking up. Was that how he’d met Zac? Some kind of alumni something?
I didn’t get the chance to ask though. “Can I ask you something?” the other man said, still eyeing my tiny scones.
I held the container out toward him again. “Sure.”
He took two more as he seemed to think about it for a second before he went for it. “Do you really make up the recipes on the spot?”
I got that question a lot, and I mean a lot. I had built my viewers up on the idea that I went in mostly blind to each episode, specifically so they could see me fail. I came up with something I wanted to make and tried it with the camera recording the whole time. Some days, they were original recipes. Some days I tried to make healthier versions of fast food and restaurant dishes, with fewer ingredients, and followed my gut. Some days, I made things that weren’t exactly healthy but were homemade. I’d tried just about everything. When Guillermo, my nephew, came to visit, we did kid-friendly cooking episodes, and it worked. Making things without a plan, using less than ten ingredients, and trying to make it as easy as possible was my thing. “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it,” was my motto most of the time.
“I brainstorm it a lot in my head, but I wing it in the end. Subscribers like it when I bomb something. Those videos usually do the best, especially if I have someone in them with me.”
I didn’t have a whole lot of “guest stars.” Almost all of the people who joined in during my episodes were family members. The small percent who weren’t consisted of other video bloggers who contacted me, and the rest were friends and family who asked. I would have done more people, but the idea of letting total strangers into my apartment kind of went against every lesson I’d learned watching Law and Order. It was another reason why I wanted to eventually rent a studio apartment where I could film separately. That was plan E. A plan for the distant future.
CJ grunted around the tiny scone he’d popped in his mouth. “Those are my favorites.” He eyed me with a grin as he ate another cookie. “Zac doesn’t talk much about anyone other than his mama or his Paw-Paw, but he never said anything about you.”
Of course he hadn’t.
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know about… it. The other day was the first time I’ve seen him in ten years,” I admitted.
CJ made a thoughtful face but pulled the stool out between the one he’d been planning on sitting in and the one I was standing beside. He gestured to it.
I had to use the supporting bar at the bottom to boost myself into it, facing him. I was going to have to ask Connie if she knew who CJ was and rub it in her face I’d met him, if she did.
“We grew up together. We were from the same town. He’s best friends with my cousin,” I explained so he wouldn’t think I was BIANCA BLACKHAIRGYM HOU on his phone. I would rather not be anything on his phone, which was more than likely the case based on how the last decade had gone. Not that I was upset about it.
And now I wanted to change the subject. “How long have you played here in Houston?” I rarely watched football, and when I did, it was only when Zac played. But I was never going to admit that out loud.
“Since the White Oaks joined the organization. They recruited me.” CJ scratched at the back of his neck, biceps flexing under his T-shirt and everything. “You’re smaller in person than you look.”