Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
“I am not sharing an elevator with you right now.” I stab the button again.
He says nothing, but his face is a mask of anger. When the elevator door finally opens and I find it empty, I begin to step inside but turn to look at him. “Take the next one.”
Surprisingly, he listens. I watch him start pacing as the doors close between us. As I ride up, I bury my face in my hands and realize I’m shaking. When I get to my apartment, I find Damian standing outside with a box of donuts. My feelings are chaotic and the last thing I want is company, but I know he’s not going anywhere, so I push my emotions aside. He glances up from his phone, when he senses he’s not alone.
“Yo, where have you been?” he asks. Whatever he finds makes his expression harden. “What happened?”
I shake my head, walk inside, go straight to my water bottle, and start drinking. It’s shaking so hard against my lips that water starts running down my chin. I set it down.
Damian tosses the box on the counter. “Joss, what the hell happened?”
“Tate was here.”
His expression darkens. “What did he want?”
“He just wanted to talk.”
“What the fuck did he say to make you this angry?” he asks and brings out his phone. “I’m going to kill him.”
“No!” I yell, then repeat quieter. “No. It’s fine. Finn got here and they had a little altercation.”
The last thing I need is for Dame to go after him as well.
His brows shoot up. “They got into a fight?”
“It was a very heated argument,” I say, sitting on the barstool and setting my elbows on the counter with a sigh.
“About what? I’ve seen them in a room together and each usually pretends the other doesn’t exist.”
My exhale is a shaky laugh. “Yeah, that didn’t happen downstairs.”
I focus on the box of donuts, opening it and looking at each of them. I’ve known my stepbrother since I was eight years old. Unlike some stepsiblings, we never had an awkward stage. When we met, it was as if we’d always been brother and sister. Our dynamic has never changed throughout the years. If anything, after the loss of my dad, we became closer.
We always share when we’re seeing someone, even if it’s casual, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to share this. Maybe it’s because I’ve heard the way Damian and his friends constantly make jokes about the puck bunnies who “think they have a golden pussy that’ll make Finn want a repeat.” It’s disgusting, but unfortunately, it’s the kind of talk I’ve gotten used to. Not that the women’s locker room is much better.
“I didn’t even know Finn had moved here,” I comment, shutting the box again.
Damian opens it and grabs a strawberry-frosted donut. “Yeah, he mentioned that. They’re working on his apartment, so he needs to move temporarily.”
I stare at the box of donuts, but in my head, I’m thinking about the way Finn looked downstairs and the things Tate said. Now that I’m reviewing it, I realize he said a lot. Tate’s self-centered, so of course, he’d say Finn is only showing interest in me to get to him, so that doesn’t really bother me, but everything else … The joke is that Finn is a one-and-done kind of guy, but Tate’s right. He hasn’t actually fucked me yet. It makes me wonder how many women he’s done this with. How many has he acted jealous over until he gets them in his bed? Is that his thing? And why do I even care?
Damian gets my attention again and spends the next hour trying to talk me into going to the pool party. I refuse and encourage him to go ahead. Even if I wasn’t feeling down today, I would have passed up on it.
“We only have one week of freedom,” he says.
“I know, and my week is booked.”
“Would you want to go skating at the new arena?”
“Pass,” I say quickly. The last time I skated, I fell on my ass twice.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Want to work out at our training facility?”
That makes me perk up. “That I’ll do.”
He pushes off the counter. “Tomorrow.”
I follow him to the door, and when he opens it, he nearly trips on something. He picks it up, and when he turns around, he has an arrangement of sunflowers in his hand. My heart starts pounding hard as he hands it to me. Even though I can barely wrap my head around it, deep down, I know who they’re from.
“Who are these from? Your mom?” he asks.
“Probably,” I say, gripping the vase a little tighter as I step back inside my apartment. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Have fun at the party!”
“You’re not going to read the note?”
“In private,” I say, and he rolls his eyes with a sigh, but walks away.