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)
“Dude, are you going to help me or not?”
Without hesitating, I give him a firm “Not” before walking back to my cubby. I need to pack my shit up and get gone so I’m not late for my athletic trainer, Shelby, who hates it when I’m late. And I’m almost always late.
As I’m stuffing things in my bag, Diego gets even closer, encroaching on my personal space with his nonsense.
“You’re seriously not going to help me?”
“Help you with what?”
Here I am listening to his bullshit, the whining—what more does the dude want from me? I’m not a relationship counselor.
Glancing up, I catch sight of myself in the small mirror inside my cubby, the scruff covering my cheeks, jaw, and chin.
Damn, I need a shave.
On the other hand, it’s getting cold, and the fur on my face helps on those long walks to class.
On the other hand, I’m starting to look like a caveman.
Whatever.
Who gives a shit?
“I need help breaking things off with Ryann.”
This gives me pause. “Her name is Ryann?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s a guy’s name.”
Diego rolls his eyes. “Can you focus for one second?”
“I’d focus if I gave two shits.”
“Dude, I’m your mejor amigo. You have to help me out.”
Whoa, where did that come from? The closest people I have as best friends are my brothers because family doesn’t fuck you over, and family doesn’t ask you to do things like break up with their girlfriend.
I’m Diego’s best friend? Since when? “Helping you out is one thing. Breaking up with a chick for you is another.” I heft my duffle over my shoulder. “Why are you bein’ so dramatic? Send her a text and be done with it. Also, stop callin’ me dude.”
Bein’ so dramatic…
I cringe hearing my Southern accent creeping in; it’s something I’ve been trying to lose, but man, when I get salty with someone, it tends to slip out.
“I told you…I’ve never had a girlfriend before.” His hands are splayed as he pleads with me.
I snort. Big deal if he’s never had a girlfriend before—as if that’s an excuse for being a dipshit. “I’m telling you it’s been two months and she’s not really your girlfriend. Just stop messaging her back. She’ll get the hint.” I walk toward the exit.
“I am not doing that. It’s rude.”
“Have you officially had the talk?”
“What talk?”
I wave a hand in the air. “You know—the talk. The one where you say, ‘Are we girlfriend boyfriend? Are we seeing other people or just banging each other?’ That talk.”
His brows furrow in confusion. “People do that?”
How the hell should I know! “Seems like it would have been a good idea.”
“Well, no. We didn’t have that talk…”
“And you said you barely have sex?”
“I mean, there’s no time.”
No time to have sex?
I hold up my hand, stopping in my tracks. “Did you have sex with her?”
I realize it’s none of my fucking business what goes on in his bedroom, but it would shed some light on some of their issues as a couple—again, not that I’m an expert…
Diego hesitates longer than I’ve ever seen any man hesitate.
“No.”
“Are you jokin’ me right now?”
Diego stands there looking like a wet turd. “I’m just not feeling it, man—she’s giving me sister vibes.”
Oh shit. Sister vibes?
Yikes.
That’s a huge problem—but not my problem.
It’s his.
“Jesus Christ, kid, and you let it go two months before you’re going to say something to her?”
“She’s too nice. I don’t know how to tell her.”
Too nice?
What the fuck does that even mean?
I know most guys like to date bitches. They love a girl with an attitude problem, big tits, and a mouth that sucks, so I get it. I get how he wouldn’t want to continue dating someone who’s too nice, but I’m not sure what that actually means.
I clamp my giant paw on his shoulder. “I’ll tell you how. You rip off the Band-Aid in one pull. Do yourself a favor and send her a text. You’ll never have to look her in the face again.”
“My mom would kill me if she knew I broke up with a girl in a text message,” he mutters.
“So you plan on running to your mama to tell her you broke up with a girl?” I scratch my beard at that. “Does she even know you’re datin’?”
“No.”
“Then shut the fuck up about it and stop being a chickenshit.”
Diego opens his mouth.
Snaps it shut.
Opens it again. “Please?”
I can’t freaking believe this guy! I just called him a chickenshit and he wants to keep yammering away?
“You think sending a henchman is somehow better?”
“What’s a henchman?”
I stare at him blankly. “Me. I’m a henchman.”
“Oh.” He shrugs. “It seems like the sensitive thing to do.”
“Sensitive my ass.” I shake my head, disgusted. I walk away from him again, pushing through the door to the long hall leading to the parking lot.
“I meant not breaking up with her in a message. I didn’t mean it was sensitive breaking up with her by hiring you to do it.”