Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
All of them.
Imagine not having a choice.
We all have choices, of course—but imagine thinking you didn’t. What must that be like?
“I’m sorry.”
He shakes it off with that pleasant, handsome grin. “Don’t you worry your pretty head. Everything worked out.”
I’m still stuck in one place, frozen like a statue. “But…”
He cocks his head to the side, waiting for my next words.
“Do you even want to play football?”
A second goes by.
Then another, then twenty.
“Sure.”
That’s not really an answer—not actually—especially not when it took him so long to respond to the question. But I’m only his best friend’s little sister. We are not friends in the literal sense, and I am not his confidant. Who am I to pry into his personal business?
His response makes me sad.
I smile, though.
Then I bite my bottom lip and set to sinking this ball.
CHAPTER 11
DREW
MY DATING LIFE CAN BE SUMMED UP IN ONE SENTENCE: WELL. THAT DIDN’T FUCKING GO AS PLANNED.
“Do you even want to play?”
I hesitated.
“Sure.”
Now why did I go and say a thing like that?
Sure.
The better answer would have been: Yes, of course! Yeah.
Yup = all better replies than “Sure.”
I’m an idiot, but she’s making me nervous. Her intense stare has me fidgeting with the putter in my hand.
“Do you even want to play?”
“Sure.”
Ugh.
“Of course I want to play ball. I wouldn’t be doin’ it if I didn’t want to.”
Tess doesn’t look convinced, but she shrugs and goes to put her little green ball toward the next hole. Technically, it should’ve been an easy dunk, but she misses because she’s swinging too hard, and it bounces off the back wall. She’s not that great at miniature golf, but I reckon it’s because she isn’t competitive and, therefore, isn’t concentrating or trying to beat me.
Seems like she’d rather make conversation than play this game.
My eyes stray to the backs of her skirt and those ass cheeks that seem to want to flirt.
When it’s my turn again, I miraculously sink the ball in one stroke—as if mini Putt-Putt were my second skill.
I fist pump for no reason, peacocking around the fake grass to irritate Tess.
She doesn’t bite.
Only smiles.
I realize then that she’s not shy. She’s simply good-natured and a genuinely nice person—unlike her brother, who can be a massive asshole. One who has occasionally given my asshole brothers a run for their money.
“So you like football well enough, but you’re not passionate about it. You enjoy science.” Tess taps her ball toward the hole. “Are you dating anyone?” She laughs. “Is that too personal?”
I laugh because it’s not personal at all. In fact, it’s a question I get asked a lot, especially by the media. People are curious about my personal life, Dallas’s personal life, and Drake’s personal life. You name it, we’ve been asked it.
“It’s not too personal, and no, I’m not.” Still single as a goddamn pringle.
It drove me nuts not having a girlfriend last semester. Don’t know why it bothered me so damn bad, but here we are. I’m jerking off alone in my bedroom at night, sometimes in the morning, sometimes on the toilet, and occasionally in the shower.
I see movies alone. I eat out alone.
And the last person on earth who wanted a girlfriend—i.e my twin—now has one, and he did it right under my nose.
“What about you?” I ask in kind, though I am curious about her relationship status. I wouldn’t have been able to picture the younger version of Tess having a boyfriend or a girlfriend, but I can visualize this one.
Tall. Sexy.
Sweet.
She seems like a real catch.
“Not currently. Last year, I was seeing someone, but he was in a fraternity, and well, you know how those guys can be—not to stereotype.”
“I cannot see you with a frat brother.”
This makes her giggle. “You can’t see me with a frat guy? You barely know me. How do you know I’m not a wild party girl? Or a heavy drinker? Or a sorority girl who only dates Kappas?”
My brows rise. “Are you?”
“No. But you don’t know that. You haven’t seen me in…how many years?” Tess drags her putter to the next hole. “I had braces the last time we were in the same room, and you didn’t even spare me two glances.”
“When was that?”
“Remember that time Grady had you guys over when we got that new ATV? And y’all took turns driving it around the property? I had my hand elbow deep in the potato chips, and none of you even noticed I was there.”
I stop playing and look at her, leaning against my putter, and matter-of-factly say, “I mean. You’re Grady’s little sister.”
Tess rolls her eyes. “No, I get it. I was mousy and quiet. Of course, you wouldn’t have noticed me.”
Wait.
I’m confused. “What are you sayin’?”
“I’m not sayin’ nothin’.” She flounces off toward the last hole—a small replica of a Danish windmill with the spinning wheels.