Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
No matter how much he fought it, he had to admit that we fit pretty well together. I respected his space; he respected mine. We kept the dorm clean, except for the occasional stray socks or boxers usually contributed by me. We even had some of the same class times on certain days, which I only knew because I’d walk a few feet behind him on the way to class. He had made it very clear that he couldn’t be seen being too friendly with me.
At first I thought it was maybe because I smelled, but a quick pit sniff test scratched out that theory.
Then I thought it was because he was a loner type, but that didn’t make sense from the snippets of information I was able to pull from him. He had come from a school in New York and had apparently been quite popular over there. He was majoring in Environmental Science, which did give me pause, considering my family wasn’t exactly one with the environment.
Meanwhile, I played my video games while occasionally dreaming of making them. I did join the rowing crew, which was a great way to get a daily workout in. Out of all the sports I’d played, I had to admit rowing was my favorite. Something about the camaraderie with my crew and the serenity of the water as we sliced through it always scratched an itch in the back of my brain.
The door to the dorm opened. In walked Jay, black backpack hanging off one shoulder, his light brown hair getting longer and slightly messier. He wore a pair of thin dark blue shorts that showed off those long and strong dancer legs of his.
“Hey, man,” I said, my attention being so consumed by those sexy-ass legs that my character died again. “How was rehearsal?”
“It was good. I’ve got pretty much all the choreo and blocking down.” He dropped his book bag on his chair and glanced at the television I had set up on my desk, aimed so that I could be lying down on my bed and still play. “What game is that?”
I perked up. Jay rarely ever took an interest in anything I was doing. It was usually the exact opposite. Guess rehearsals really did go great today.
“It’s the new Final Fantasy. I love this shit. I’ve played pretty much all of them.”
“Aren’t there like a hundred of them?”
“Fifteen, but if there were a hundred, I’d play all of them too.”
Jay crossed his arms and cocked his head. He looked over to the bathroom, and I figured he was going to go and shower, our conversation over. But he surprised me again by sitting down on his bed instead. “What do you like about it?”
“What don’t I like about it would be an easier question to answer.” I dove into a lecture about what made Final Fantasy so special. The different characters, the bonkers storylines, the action and adventure, the mix of sci-fi and fantasy, the romance, the chocobos.
“The choco—wha?” Jay asked, for once not interrupting me with an eye roll or a sassy little quip.
“The chocobos. They’re like big yellow chickens you can ride around the game on. They’re fucking iconic.” Jay chuckled at that. He took off his socks and bundled them together. I couldn’t help but notice how big his feet were, which made me wonder if everything else about him was proportional or not.
“So you ride around on Big Bird while you swing a sword and cast some magic spells?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Sounds fun.” He got up from the bed, and then, as if remembering he was supposed to hate me, he added, “Not that I’d ever play it or anything. Whatever you like has got to be bad in some way or another.”
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re a terrible influence, and I can’t be drawn in by whatever you’re trying to sell.” He went over to the dresser and pulled open a drawer.
I set the controller aside and moved to the edge of my bed, planting my feet on the floor and keeping my gaze pinned on Jay. “Alright, spill it. Why do you hate me so damn much?” I arched a brow and shot him a smirk. “Is it because of my insanely good looks and huge, hung, thick co—”
“No,” Jay quickly cut me off. “It’s got nothing to do with any of that.”
“What does it have to do with, then?”
Jay narrowed his eyes to tiny slits. If daggers could fly from his pupils, I’m sure my chest would be impaled by about a dozen of them in that moment. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. I want to shower and go over some lines. That’s it.”
Jay was likely close to my age—turned twenty-one a few months back—but he could wear a stern face in the way a stubborn eighty-year-old man would. He had a kind of maturity to him that I honestly found really hot. It was like he was one of the only few people I’d ever met who had their head screwed on right. He believed in what he believed in and stuck by it. That kind of conviction was attractive to me, even though it meant he was sticking to his strong dislike of me.