Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Unfortunate? I feel it’s a blessing.”
She scoffs. “Do you know how much it costs to live this close to the arena? Millions I don’t have.”
“I told you that,” I say as she walks back into the living room, sitting as far away from me on the couch as she can. “I promise I’m a good roomie. Your mom can call mine.”
She exhales. “I don’t have a mom—or a dad,” she adds, probably knowing I was about to ask. “Only a peepaw.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad they’re out of my life,” she says simply, bringing her heels to the edge of the couch as she sets the book along her thighs. It’s hard to read into that statement when my eyes decide to move down her legs and take in the curve of her ass that is peeking out from the shorts. She has a birthmark, right at the bottom of her ass, and I want to poke it.
With my finger.
And maybe my dick.
Okay, my dick wants to poke it.
She looks over at me, and I quickly meet her gaze. “I don’t know what to say. Good for you?”
“That’s sufficient,” she says on an exhale. “So, you have a mom and a dad?”
“I do. They’re still married, and I have an evil sister.”
“I’m sure she’s a doll.”
“She may have grown in my mom and they claim they made her, but she was designed by Satan.”
She snorts. “I imagine, if she doesn’t put up with your crap, she’s probably delightful.”
“As delightful as a rabid Chihuahua.” Austen doesn’t comment on that as I log in to my account.
“Is that why you’re living here? Because of her?”
“No. I wanted to focus on hockey and only hockey. It’s why Elli gave me the small apartment.”
“This is small?”
“Oh yeah. The other ones hold three to four players.”
“Oh,” she says, looking around. “If I’m a distraction, I can drive home. I just hate the drive.”
“You’re not,” I lie through my damn teeth. “Your grandfather and sister live in Knoxville?”
“Outside of it, yes. And all my sisters. I have four.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, I miss them. But it’s quiet, and I enjoy that.”
“I bet,” I say as my game comes on. Oh yeah, let’s go! “Thank you for my Xbox, by the way.”
“Thank you for not being an intruder and killing me.”
“No problem, roomie.”
Again, with the eye-rolling. She doesn’t say anything as she looks down at her book.
“Are you used to intruders, and that’s why you attacked?”
“You’d be surprised,” she mutters under her breath, and I look over at her. “Not at all. I’m just skittish.”
I think it’s about her experience with intruders, but I don’t ask since I get the feeling it’s a private statement. One that has me worried for her. Makes me wonder if that’s why she has no social media. “You aren’t on social media,” I mention, and she doesn’t look up from her book.
“I’m not.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be. I don’t want people knowing what I’m doing or even where I am.” She looks up at me from under her lashes. “Were you looking for me?”
“I was,” I say unabashedly. “I wanted to know if my roommate was a mass murderer, a runaway, or a millionaire.”
Those golden depths tease me, especially with the dark lashes framing them. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m just private.”
“I get it,” I say as she looks away. “I don’t like people.”
“I highly doubt that. You’re probably the life of the party. Always.”
“True, but I don’t like attention.”
She looks at me again. “And I don’t like frosting on my pancakes.”
“I’m confused. Do you like frosting on pancakes?” I ask, my brows coming in.
“Uh, yeah. They’re amazing.”
I make a face. “Who eats that?”
“I do,” she says. “They’re my favorite, and you love attention.”
She isn’t completely wrong, but she isn’t right either. “I do and I don’t.”
She looks sideways at me, not the least bit buying what I’m trying to sell. “I love the attention on the ice and on social media, but when I’m with my family and friends, I like being comfortable.”
She looks right at me, her eyes dark. “That makes absolutely no sense. You like attention, that’s okay. But I don’t. I just want to do what I’ve got to do and keep it moving.”
I work my lip as I join Flynn’s game. I know I shouldn’t ask or even bring it up, but I find myself saying, “So, you don’t like attention from the opposite sex? Or same sex? Not sure your preferences.”
She doesn’t even look at me. “I will not dignify that question with an answer because it’s pointless.”
“Elaborate, Superior Janie.”
A flush fills her face. “If I say I don’t, you’ll call me a liar. If I say I do, you’ll eat it up and you’ll tease me. And I don’t like that.” She does, but I let her continue. “And if I say I don’t have people wanting to give me attention, you’ll call me a liar. So really, nothing I say matters. Or helps us progress.”