Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Shepard looks annoyed. “Shut the fuck up, both of you. I lost my phone, okay?”
I’ve been looking at the meeting notes that Con left for me, trying to tune the conversation out. But I switch my complete focus on them now.
“What, where?” Isiah asks, snapping the locker shut.
“If I knew where, it wouldn’t be lost now, would it?”
Riot scoffs. “Well, genius, there are things now called Find My Phone and stuff like that. You’ve got an iPad, don’t you? Or a laptop. Use it to find your phone.”
Shep’s not into technology like that. He doesn’t care about laptops or iPads. Despite having numerous discussions with him, his passwords across all of his accounts are the same, where it’s not a face ID, that is, and the one that he’s had since high school.
Shepard gives him a look and proves me right with his next words. “You think I’d bring an iPad on the road? Or a laptop. What am I, a college nerd or a Wall Street stuck up? No, I don’t have any of those on me. Besides, I needed a new number anyway.”
“Why?” Riot asks, smirking. “A chick going stalker on you?”
Isiah smirks too before tackling Shep in a bear hug that Shep breaks out of easily. But that doesn’t deter Isiah from expressing, “Aww. Look at him, being all loyal to his girl and shit.”
Riot chuckled. “Yeah, who would’ve thought.”
“That a girl named Isadora would tame the lion,” Isiah completes the sentence, high-fiving Riot.
I flinch at the crackling sound.
At the name.
Not because the sound’s loud or this is the first time I’ve heard her name from the guys or around the locker room. The team’s loud and they like to give their former-playboy captain a hard time about his changed and monogamous ways. And while previously I’ve simply walked out—not only because her name’s come up but also because it’s easier for me to ignore the urge to join in their banter when I know I can’t; I don’t deserve to—I find I can’t do that now.
I find I’m glued to my spot.
Every part of my body attuned to the conversation that’s happening. Maybe because I know the truth now. I know that while the world thinks they are together, they are not.
Not really.
That it all started with a lie.
That along the way he fell for her, and I can only assume he never corrected any assumptions about them because he wanted them to be true. Or maybe it was his ego. Maybe it was a little of both. Whatever the reason, I can see that he wants her. I can see that he’s in love with her.
And yet, I’m doing what I am doing, what I’ve been doing for the past two weeks.
Yet I don’t plan to stop.
It makes me an even shittier brother; I’m aware of that. It makes me an even shittier fucking person for taking what doesn’t belong to me. But that’s the thing, isn’t it, it feels like it. It feels like she belongs to me. That she has belonged to me since the moment I met her.
It feels like he’s the intruder, not me.
He’s the one in between us, not the other way around.
“Why don’t you both shut the fuck up and leave me alone, okay?” Shep breaks into my thoughts with his irritated words. “Jokes about my girl are getting old now and it’s none of your goddamn business why I need a new phone.”
From there, they go on to argue about phones and how they’re good for everything except one thing. And it’s to watch porn because porn is meant to be watched on a big screen, or you don’t get the same effect. Again, I tune them all out and focus on my notes. Until I feel a prickling.
I look up to find my twin staring at me from where he’s leaning against his locker. Apparently, all the guys have left and we’re alone now. Which hasn’t happened ever since our encounter where I benched him. Over the last two weeks, I’ve kept my distance from him. Until I know I can handle being around him without posing a danger.
But from the looks of it, the time-out is over.
I fold my arms across my chest, tucking the clipboard to my side, and stand straight. “Who’s the stalker?”
His shoulder jerk slightly. “What?”
“The stalker you were talking about.”
He watches me a beat before dismissing, “None of your business.”
“So there is one,” I conclude.
“Told you, it’s none of your business.”
“Is it serious? Should we call—”
“She’s none of your concern, all right,” he snaps. “Just drop it.”
Well, that’s curious.
I’ve never seen my brother agitated like this.
Not over a stalker. Who happens to be a girl.
“It’s a girl,” I keep going.
“She’s not a fucking stalker, yeah?” he snaps again. “And what part of just drop it didn’t you understand?”