Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Owen rolls his eyes at me.
To my surprise, Judd wavers, proving he’s not a complete idiot. “No, Bailey’s raised a good point. Whatever we make these fuckers do can’t be overtly illegal.”
Jako appears at the foot of the stairs, so I leave Judd and his cronies to brainstorm ideas that don’t involve banging watermelons.
“That guy is a real piece of work,” I mutter to Jako.
“Yup,” he agrees. “But that piece of work is entitled to one vote in this election—and guess who needs to earn that vote, Luke? You.”
I chuckle darkly. “Yeah, right. Even if I turned into a genie and granted him three wishes, he’d still never vote for me. He’s ride-or-die with Keaton Hayworth.”
Jako nods. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you’re not capable of changing his mind.”
Ha. Getting Judd Keller to change his mind about me? I’d have a better chance trying to get cast on a season of Dancing With the Stars.
An hour later, I’m rummaging around in the kitchen for a snack. Now that I’ve got a wad of cash lining my wallet, I can afford to grab a bag of chips. We have a communal snack pantry that any of us can make use of, provided we contribute to the snack fund. Normally I abstain. Tonight, I toss a ten-dollar bill in the jar, and gorge.
Fuuuck. I forgot how good chips are. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m usually too broke to snack on carbs. My livelihood depends on making sure my abs remain tight and lickable.
Nevertheless, I’m elbow deep in the bag and loving every second of it. As I munch, I check my phone. But no message from LobsterShorts. Did I scare him off? I reread our messages, but as far as I can tell, he was with me every step of the way. He was into it.
My last message to him was bold, though.
I want you to finish now. And tell me if this helps.
Maybe he wasn’t into the pic I sent?
I think it over, then frown. Fuck that. My body is fucking awesome. Of course he was into it.
Granted, he admitted to never chatting up a guy, or being with one. Maybe the virtual blowjob didn’t do it for him. He tried it out, couldn’t get hard. Or maybe got so hard it freaked him out?
I can’t deny I’m disappointed at the notion that he might be gone for good. He didn’t unmatch me on Kink, so that’s something. But he’s also not messaging.
I skim the message thread again, but when footsteps near the doorway, I jam a finger on my phone to close the app.
“Hey,” I grunt as Keaton Hayworth appears. But he doesn’t even respond.
My gaze warily tracks Mr. Jockface as he ducks into the pantry. He’s wearing sweatpants and a sleeveless red T-shirt, providing me with front-row seats to the gun show. Dude’s got great arms. Too bad his personality is shit.
“Yo,” he eventually grunts back, as I shove another chip into my mouth. I crunch loudly, continuing to watch Keaton.
He emerges from the pantry with a granola bar. One of those bland ones with nuts and stuff.
Neither of us speaks. Which is normal enough, I guess. Keaton and I have nothing in common, so conversations between the two of us are rare. We have no problem bitching at each other for playing our music too loud, but exchanging actual meaningful words? Not our style.
And yet I stop him before he can leave the kitchen. “Hey, wait.”
When he turns, I notice his face is flushed, and he looks a little unsettled. “Need something, Bailey?” he snaps.
I set down the chip bag. “There was a meeting tonight. For the Pledge Committee?”
“Sure?” He frowns. “I’m not on that one. So?”
And here I tread carefully. “I know you’re tight with Judd, and I thought I’d give you a heads-up. Maybe you can have a chat with him when the two of you are in the locker room, slapping each other’s asses with towels.”
One corner of Keaton’s mouth quirks. “Is that what you think football players do in the locker room?”
The football players I’ve seen on PornHub do a lot more than smack asses. They fuck ‘em. But I keep that to myself.
“Judging by the hard-on he got tonight at the thought of watching other guys fuck watermelons, I’d say, yes, it wouldn’t surprise me if Judd was into locker room ass play.”
Keaton’s eyes widen. “Sorry, what?”
“Your bro has some messed-up ideas about how to haze our pledges. Figured you could try to nip that in the bud.” I shrug. “Maybe remind him that consent and MeToo applies to men as well as women. I’d rather get through this year’s initiation week without a lawsuit.”
Seriously, if I wanted legal trouble, I could just live at home.
Keaton crosses those impressive arms and stares me down. “Are you pulling my chain right now?”