Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
And so, pole became more than just a way to exercise for me.
It became the only way to survive.
My breath sawed in and out of my chest once my bare feet touched the wood floor again, and I held onto the pole, heaving and standing still as my dizziness slowly began to fade. Once I felt okay, I strode over to the coffee table that I’d shoved out of the way and under our front bay window, snagging my water bottle off the top of it.
I chugged the cool liquid, mopping my forehead with a towel as I considered what trick sequence I wanted to try next. I was so deep in thought I almost didn’t notice the pair of green eyes watching me.
I felt them before I saw them.
It was a chemical buzz, humming right under the surface of my skin as I stood there in what was left of the fading sunlight coming through the window. I snapped out of the daze I so easily slipped into with pole, still breathing heavily as my gaze found Holden Moore.
He stood rooted in place on the sidewalk in front of the stairs that led up to his house, one large, stuffed paper bag in each arm. His lips were slightly parted, and even from across the street, I noted how his Adam’s apple bobbed hard in his throat as his eyes trailed the length of me.
In order to stick to the pole the way I needed to, I couldn’t wear much clothing. And so, I stood there in a black sports bra and black thong to match, and I didn’t bother to cover myself as those green irises carefully made their way back up to connect to mine.
Fire licked along my navel the longer he stared, the longer I held that gaze — just like it had in the training room the other day. There was something so unwaveringly cocky about how he stood, how he carried himself, how he pushed my buttons like he knew where every single one of them hid.
Something about him changed when he talked to me, it seemed. With everyone else on the team, he was calm, constant, severe — a leader, through and through. But with me, it was as if he saw a fleck of something covered by dirt, and he couldn’t help but scratch and scratch in the mission to uncover it.
It annoyed the ever-loving shit out of me that I was intrigued by that fact.
It annoyed me even more that I loved having his eyes on me.
“Ugh, what a creep.”
I jumped a little in surprise as Mary sidled up next to me, crossing her arms with distaste written in every feature as she shook her head and frowned at Holden.
“We need to invest in blackout curtains.”
I smirked, turning back to find Holden still staring. His gaze seemed stuck to me until it flicked to where Mary was beside me, and he chuckled, adjusting the bags in his arms and turning for the house. When I looked back at my roommate, it was just in time to see her tuck away the two middle fingers she was flipping him.
I nudged her. “Subtle.”
“I don’t care. He’s being a creep. They’re all creeps — that entire football team.”
I arched a brow. “You know I’m a part of that team, too, right? And my dad.”
Mary waved me off. “That’s different. I’m talking about the players. Emphasis on the word player. The whole lot of them thinks they run this campus and that every girl should just fall at their feet. They’re assholes,” she added. “The number one asshole being Leo Hernandez.”
I frowned. “Leo? He’s been sweet to me. A little flirtatious, maybe, but harmless.”
“Trust me. There’s nothing harmless about that stupid boy.”
Her face hardened, then her eyes flicked to mine, and when she saw me waiting with a lifted brow for further explanation, she sucked her teeth and swept her long blonde hair over one shoulder.
“Anyway. Want to smoke a joint and order a pizza, or are you going to strip for our neighbors all night?”
I winked. “Just trying to keep the block interesting. Pizza sounds good.”
“No joint?”
Mary was already pulling out her stash, the aroma of the flower hitting me as she unpacked it from what looked like a makeup bag.
I swallowed, heart ticking up a notch at the sight, at the fact that it was close enough I could make out the resin sticking to the light green and orange bud.
But a flash of my father’s face twisted in grief hit me next, and I blinked, knocking away all temptation with that one simple gesture.
“Just pizza for me.”
The following week, my father announced the depth chart for the team, and everyone was in a tizzy.
Although football wasn’t my life the way it was his, I knew as his daughter that college football chart day was big, not just at our campus, but every campus around the nation. Reporters would offer full coverage of the charts for each university, and thus would begin the predictions for which match ups would prove the best ones of the season.