Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“I said Winnie the Pooh and his honeypot,” he says in a deep voice, and I feel kind of dirty right now.
“That’s a good one. But also, I’ve seen you eat a peach, and it’s the same way. You inhale me.”
“Ooh, I do. Yeah. So imagine it’s a peach, and you gotta get to that pit. The pit being her convulsing and singing your name.”
“I don’t know how I feel about this conversation,” I say, and he laughs.
“Hey, I’m always here for ya.”
“Yeah, didn’t know it would be for this, though,” I say, chuckling, and he laughs along with me.
“Hey, get off the phone,” I hear Angie say, and Owen snickers.
“See, all I gotta do is talk about getting between her legs, and she’s begging. Make Callie your honeypot or sweet peach, Evan. Or hell, a honey-covered peach that’s at the bottom of the pot. Whatever inspires you, really. Just do it, okay? Don’t let me down.”
With that, he hangs up. No goodbye or anything, leaving me completely and utterly traumatized by our conversation. Never in my life did I think we would discuss something like that. But in a way, I’m thankful. My goal is to be as confident as he is, but also, now I have to make it a goal not to look between Callie’s legs and see a honeypot or a peach. Pretty damn sure that’s gonna happen. One thing is for sure, though. I’ll take his advice. And maybe I’ll get lucky enough to drive Callie just as crazy as Angie is for Owen.
Because I’m sure as hell as crazy for her as Owen is for Angie.
twenty-five
Callie
I have to use intense face cleanser to get my makeup off as Aviva laughs at me over FaceTime. I shake my head, hating how much makeup we have to wear for our team promo pictures. The picture session went awesome, and we all looked as gorgeous as ever, but this thick makeup irks me. Coach had given us a hair and makeup day out of his own pocket for our pictures as a thank-you for training hard for the upcoming season. It’s a nice gesture, but I hate trusting people with my hair. Especially when they insist on straightening it.
“I argued with the lady for ten minutes. She didn’t want to deal with my curls. It took Shantae coming over and doing my hair for the lady to leave me alone.”
Aviva makes a face. “How rude.”
“I know, so annoying. But I love how Shantae does my hair, which is why I’m only washing my face,” I say, picking out the leftover glue from my lashes.
“I love how tight she gets your curls. I need her to do mine.”
“I know, right?” I agree, picking glue out of my other eye. “Get this shit. We get home, and Mae had drunk all of Cameron’s almond milk, which Cameron needs because she’s lactose intolerant, and then doesn’t replace it. So, Cam confronts Mae, and Mae makes her cry, and then I had to get involved, and ugh, it was hell.”
Aviva laughs. “You can’t fight everyone’s battles, Cal.”
“I know, but don’t make the people I care for cry, ya know? Or hurt them. I don’t play that way.”
“I know, and I vividly remember you cussing out Nico’s mom when she outed him as autistic to us.”
“Bitch.”
“Calliope,” she scolds, and I shrug. “But she is.”
“I know,” I agree and then look closer in the mirror to get the rest of the glue. “Have you heard from Jaylin?”
“Yes, we have a court date the second week you’re here. You’re still planning on staying the whole time?”
I glance over at her. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
She waggles her brows at me. “Now that you have a boyfriend.”
Her singsong voice is annoying, yet it makes me giddy. We’ve been dating officially for a week now, and it’s been magical. We’re both insanely busy, but that doesn’t keep us from running together or the little glances we give each other at the gym. When he tapes my ankles, his touch is way more than it used to be. I may be a horndog, but I get turned on every time he grabs my calves. It’s been awesome. I’m happy.
“I’m pretty sure he’s coming to stay with his brother for a week or two. I may see if he wants to road trip with me.”
“That sounds like fun. You should stop and enjoy some of the towns and stuff. I’m pretty sure you drive right through Bigfoot country.”
I roll my eyes. I need my sister to get a job so she can stay off the TV and bingeing Bigfoot reality shows. “There is no Bigfoot.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “Eh, according to the BFRO, there is.”
“I don’t know what the BRFO—”
“BFRO. Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization,” she corrects, and I flash her a dry look.