Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Yeah, it’ll be good to pick back up.” Though the dynamic of the team would be different again. Players graduated or got drafted and occasionally players became ineligible, so it sometimes took the first portion of the season to get the chemistry right despite our preliminary practices in the fall.
“It’s your last season. Better make it a good one.” He lifted his soda in a toast, and I awkwardly clanked his glass. No pressure or anything. Likely, though, he was just throwing out some random sentiment because he figured it was the right thing to say, not even realizing how the words might ring true.
“Still seeing Nina?” I asked as he smiled down at the screen. Obviously, he was, that much was evident. He’d dated regularly, aside from the time after Mom died—or maybe just hadn’t brought anyone around. But he’d been as devastated about her passing as me. He didn’t know I’d heard him sobbing the night after the funeral. I’d wanted to go to him, or for him to come to me to comfort and hold me. But that wasn’t the kind of relationship we had. Thankfully, his parents had been kind to me and made me feel less alone afterward. But they lived in Florida in a retirement community, and it wasn’t like they were blood relatives. Mom had never been close to her family, and I’d never met my biological father, so Dad had been the only one to claim me as his own. Which was another reason I showed up to these stupid dinners.
“Sure, nothing serious, though,” he replied. Serious enough to spend the holidays with her on the ski slopes. “You know how it is.”
No, actually, I didn’t. I’d never dated anyone, just hung out with girls sometimes. It was nice to be paid attention to for a night. But I’d never felt a true connection to anyone outside of one girl in high school, who’d then traipsed off to college in another country, and we’d been more friends than anything. In fact, Jasmine reminded me of her a bit.
“And you?” he asked as he grinned down at his phone again.
“Nope.”
“Probably for the best. Wait until you graduate and make some good money.”
I shrugged because I didn’t know what to say to that. I wasn’t built like him and only interested in the finer things in life. Mom hadn’t been either and, in hindsight, I didn’t know what she’d seen in him. Except, I did remember how they would hold hands and laugh a lot together. We had moments of fun when I was a kid, and I really looked up to him, though considering it all now, I knew he only threw me so many bones. He wasn’t the best dad, but he sure loved my mom, and he did put up with me. Maybe she’d made him a better person for a short period of time. I couldn’t force him to be interested in my life. And I certainly shouldn’t expect more than he was willing to give, so why did it sting so damned much?
“Christ, why do they need to flaunt it in our faces?” he said in a frustrated tone.
“Flaunt what?” I asked, though I’d heard this refrain from him before and somehow had an idea of whom he was referring to.
And sure enough, the two guys who’d come in earlier were now holding hands across the table and giving each other googly eyes like they were about to have a make-out session—sort of how Donovan and Kellan would get during downtime.
My gut churned with feelings I couldn’t quite unpack.
What would Dad think if he knew about Donovan and Kellan?
Or me and Girard, for that matter?
Not that there was a me and Girard.
Now I felt sick to my stomach. “Jesus, Dad. Just leave it alone.”
Fortunately, the server had come with our food, and I dug right in, trying not to make eye contact or think about stuff I was trying to avoid at all costs. Only, now it was flooding my brain all at once.
I could never admit to Girard that I’d fantasized about him in the shower that day, almost a year ago now. Thing was, I thought he knew but was giving me a pass, and with every day that went by, I got more and more pissed about letting my desires—or whatever the hell they were—get the best of me. I’d never thought about a guy like that before, but something about Girard drew my eye every time I saw him. Maybe it was his easy smile, or how he never let me get away with shit, or that body on him.
At first, I thought maybe I was simply admiring his personality or the muscles he was packing, but then I began popping boners whenever I let my imagination go wild. I fought it for so long but eventually began giving in. I could come just from imagining him naked and looking at me a certain way.