Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
“Everything okay?” I ask.
Even without the frown, I would know something’s bothering him. Larsen and I are just that attuned to each other. That’s what happens when you share enough women in bed. Which sounds sleazier than it is. We worship women. That’s why they keep coming back.
Will grumbles under his breath. “Fine. My dad being his usual jackass self.”
He tosses me the phone. I can’t help but laugh when I read the email on the screen.
From: Alessia Mason-Bybee
To: Will Larsen
Subject: Meeting Request
Hi Will,
Your father would like to schedule a meeting with you at your earliest convenience. Please let me know your availability this week.
Best,
Alessia
“He gets his assistant to schedule visits?” I marvel.
“Of course.” Will’s voice is sarcastic. “I’m just another business meeting.”
“Bro, that’s intense,” Shane says, offering a sympathetic look.
Shrugging, Will sets his phone on the top shelf of his stall and starts undressing, tossing his jersey on the bench. “Whatever. It’s always been like this. Can’t even remember the last time we talked without a formal agenda. Alessia emails that too beforehand.”
Ryder grunts out a laugh. “Shit. I mean, as someone who doesn’t have parents, I can’t exactly attest to this, but I don’t think that’s how parent-child relationships are supposed to work.”
I hide my surprise. It’s rare for Ryder to mention his childhood, what with his mother’s murder and his father in jail for it. But we’ve all noticed he’s been much more open since he married Briar U’s golden girl, Gigi Graham. Gigi is the daughter of the most famous alum this school has, and that’s saying a lot because Briar has produced two actual U.S. presidents.
Thanks to Gigi, Ryder’s on his way to becoming a changed man. He has a whole new family now, and I’m damn happy for him. Dude deserves it.
Larsen, well, I just feel bad for the guy. He moved into the house in August after Shane and Ryder moved out, and his dad hasn’t visited him once. The man sounds like a total dickhead.
“Yeah, it doesn’t work that way,” Shane confirms, then holds up his phone as evidence. “See this? This is all my dad. Walls of text, bro.” He scrolls through, like, three paragraphs. “And that’s just him asking what I want him to barbecue when I go home in a couple weeks.”
“Must be nice,” Will says wryly.
I grin at him. “So are you going to send him your schedule?”
“Nope.” He clicks his phone off and shoves it in his pocket.
Most of the guys are heading to Malone’s, the sports bar in town, but Will and I have plans, so we part ways with our teammates in the parking lot behind the Graham Center and get into Will’s shiny black SUV. Courtesy of his father, of course.
Will slides into the driver’s seat and glances over. “When’s Caitlin coming over?”
“I’m not sure. She texted during the game. Let me check.”
But all her message says is: Call me.
“Yo, turn that shit down,” I grumble, referring to the country track blasting from the car speakers. I’m more of a rock and rap guy, but Mr. Boston over here, for some inexplicable reason, enjoys country music. But his car, his rules. Fucker.
“Hey,” I say when Caitlin picks up. “What time are you heading over?”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Caitlin? You there?”
“Yes. Sorry. I’m here. Um…I don’t think I’m coming.”
I wrinkle my forehead. “Why not?”
After another long pause, a heavy exhalation meets my ear.
“I’ve caught feelings.”
“You’ve caught feelings,” I echo.
“Yes.”
“For which one of us?”
That gets me a snicker from the driver’s seat. Will and I exchange a grin.
“For you, you idiot.”
I nod to myself. It’s usually fifty-fifty which one of us a girl decides she’s madly in love with.
Not once has the answer been “both.”
Not that I want it to be. I mean, that would be fucking weird. Sure, we share similar kinks in bed, but we’re not two dudes on the hunt for that one special girlfriend to complete our triad or whatever the hell people are calling it these days.
“I know we were just supposed to be having fun,” Caitlin continues, embarrassment lacing her tone. “And it was fun, the three of us fooling around. I honestly didn’t expect feelings to develop.”
She didn’t?
I mean, I expected it. I can’t remember the last time I met a woman whose emotions didn’t enter the equation during anything beyond a one-night stand. Oh, right. Never. That’s how many emotion-immune girls I’ve met. Zero.
I love women. Truly. I would get down on my knees and worship at their shrine of womanhood. I love how they look, how they taste, how they smell. How soft they feel in my arms. How they sound when they’re moaning in my ear.
And yes, I don’t doubt there are some exceptions, but in my twenty-one years of existence, I’ve yet to meet someone who didn’t eventually catch feelings.