Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
“Bye!” I hear Willow shout as he carries me out of her bedroom. I’m pretty sure Reid and I are about to have another first. Make-up sex.
18
Many months later
The music blares through the frat house. It’s become a typical thing that occurs on Saturday nights after the game. I would say they have parties win or lose, but I wouldn’t know because we’ve never lost. I don’t see that happening any time soon either. Not with Coach Grayson. The man is insanely smart when it comes to playing football. I’ve learned more from him than anyone.
I lie on my bed staring up at the ceiling while I wait for my girl to get here. We don’t really hang here much, but Willow and Zoey had to wrap up some blog posts they were doing, and do one of their live videos. I wanted to just go over to her place, but she mentioned something about Willow wanting to actually hang tonight. Hell, if they both want to hang here and let loose, they should. With me standing right there watching every fucking move.
They described a night of fun. A night of fun for me is being anywhere near Zoey and ending with me inside of her. The two of them have been killing it as much as I have been on the field. When we hit campus you would have thought we were some famous couple. Zoey said we went viral. The small blog she and Willow made has blown up. They talk about anything and everything under the sun. They both write in it, but Willow handles the internet shit and Zoey does all of the pictures. A handful of her pictures were bought to use for some of the games.
People have started giving them money to advertise on their blog. I was shocked at the amount of money companies will pay to have their logo slipped into a picture. Like I said, it’s insane, and I love every fucking second of it. Okay, not the social media shit with men watching them or making comments. Everyone knows better than to do that shit with me in earshot. It only took a few brawls to make shit real fucking clear around Kingston University, but everyone has gotten the memo.
I love it because Zoey is doing what she’s always wanted to do: sharing her words and pictures with the world. My phone dings, and it’s Zoey letting me know she’ll be here in five minutes. I smirk, thinking about the time Zoey found it weird that I didn't have any social media.
I guess I don’t anymore, but at one time I had. Once upon a time I was Ava Smith. Ava, of course, was friends with one of Zoey’s accounts. It had been my only option at a time when I couldn’t trust myself to be around her. I needed a way to still be a part of her life. When I realized you couldn't see people’s shit if you weren't friends with them and if they have some privacy crap up, that’s when I became Ava Smith. When I let Zoey in on my little secret, she’d only glared at me, but the way her lips twitched, I knew she liked that I’d been keeping an eye on her. For some reason she is okay with my caveman obsessive tendencies.
I get up, putting my shoes on, wanting to be downstairs before they get here. People might have gotten the memo about Zoey, but drunk assholes can be unpredictable. My phone rings. I stare at it, seeing Coach Grayson’s name light up my screen.
“Yo,” I say, answering it as I swipe a hoodie from the closet that has my last name on the back. It’s getting cold, and Zoey always forgets a damn jacket. Plus the hoodie swallows all her curves.
“You at the party tonight?” he asks. Why the hell is he asking me that? He knows I don’t go to any of these parties. I don't care for drinking. I enjoy being in control. Plus, I need my body in tip top shape in order to give my best on the field.
“About to go down there now to meet my girl.”
“Is Willow with her?”
I pause. “Why?” Willow has become a little sister to me. How is she even on Coach’s radar to ask about?
“Answer the damn question.”
“Yeah.” I give, heading out of my room but not before I lock it and descend the stairs. I’m about to push him for an answer about why he’s inquiring about Willow, but I stop when he lets out a string of curses.
“Keep those frat boys away from her.” His words surprise me, but before I can respond, he hangs up. I pocket my phone when I see Zoey and Willow walking up the sidewalk. Willow is all done up for the party. Zoey is in jeans and one of our school’s shirts.