Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Kellie: Text you in four hours.
I reply right away
Me: Talk to you in two.
I toss the blankets off me and get ready to go to the gym. At least today, I know he’s not going to be there because he’ll probably be recovering from a wild night of sex. My stomach flips over as I pull my pants up and grab the matching sports bra. I tie my hair up, making my way to the gym. I open the door and stop in my tracks because on the treadmill running is a shirtless Tyler. I scoff at him. Of course, he can have sex all night and then come and run for fun. What does he have, the stamina of a jack rabbit? I go to the treadmill right next to him because it’s the only other one.
“Morning,” he says, ridiculously chipper, and I don’t even acknowledge him. Instead, I plug my earbuds in. “What, you’re not talking to me?” he asks when I have one pod in my ear and I start walking fast. I just look ahead, and he laughs, which irritates me even more. “What did I do?” he asks, and I try to keep my cool. I try really hard. Okay, fine, maybe not that hard. Gahhh, I fail so damn hard. I shut off the treadmill and turn and look at him.
“What is this?” I ask him, and he stops his own machine, his chest rising and falling, sweat rolling down his tanned chest. He grabs a small white towel and wipes his forehead, then grabs the water bottle. “This has to be a game. Are you playing a game, and one I don’t know the rules to? Because if you are, so help me, I’ll—” I tell him, getting off my treadmill and looking at him as he interrupts my rant.
“Why can’t we be friends?” he asks after he takes a drink of his water, and he just looks at me. Mr. Calm, Cool, and Fucking Collected.
“Are you kidding right now?” I ask and turn around in a circle. “Am I being punked?” Then I look at him, and he just watches me with his hands on his hips. “Two days ago, you almost kissed me.”
“No, I didn’t,” he points out, his hands going from him to me. “We almost kissed each other.”
“Are you high?” I ask him. “Or are you drunk? Maybe both?”
“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “Straight as an arrow.”
“Okay,” I say, and now I start pacing. “One day you hate me.”
“Yeah. I remember that day,” he says, smiling and then takes a sip of water.
“Then we call a truce?” I look at him, glaring.
“Yeah, I remember that also,” he says, now getting off the treadmill and standing in front of me.
“Then you go back to being an asshole.” I put up my hand to stop him from answering. “I most certainly remember that,” I tell him and continue, “then we become friends—shockingly, you are actually a nice guy—but then you try to kiss me.” I glare at him while pointing at his chest. “Don’t even,” I warn him, and he just nods. “Then you ignore me. Like, not a fucking word. Not even a grunt.”
“I was tired,” he says with a shrug. “I was having a bad day.”
“And . . .” Throwing up my hands in the air, I say, “So what, you were having a bad day? I’m having a bad day right now, so I am ignoring you.”
“No, you’re yelling, but everyone handles their bad day differently. Case in point.”
“Fuck off, Tyler. Honestly, I can’t do this hot and cold bullshit,” I tell him. “I’m not one of your girls who jumps anytime you give me attention.”
“You’re jealous,” he says, and I cross my arms over my chest.
“For me to be jealous, I would have to care, and I don’t,” I tell him, hoping I’m as good an actor as I see myself in my head. I have to remember he’s an actor. Will he know I’m bullshitting my way through this moment? “I couldn't care less that you did Roxanne last night. I couldn't care less if she’s still in your bed, waiting for your return, probably being watched over by Cassie.”
“I didn’t . . .” he says, coming closer, and I hold my breath, “fuck Roxanne last night.”
“I don’t care,” I tell him, my voice now lowering to an almost whisper.
He walks even closer and leans in, invading my personal space. He’s so close, closer than in the restaurant, his face going close to my ear. “Liar,” he whispers, and my body shivers, then he chuckles and turns and walks out.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss to myself after the door clicks closed. I count to ten or maybe a hundred, then I walk out of the room, peeking out first to make sure that he isn’t there smirking. I make my way back to my room, grabbing my phone and texting Kellie.