Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Get the fuck out!” he bellows.
There’s a flurry of motion, which I don’t see because Buck-Miller’s giant mitt blocks my view.
“Sorry, Buck,” the guy mutters as they pass, still both naked and carrying their clothes.
Buck drops his hand once they’re gone. The room smells like butt.
“I feel like just standing here will give me pinkeye.”
“You can stay in my room tonight and I’ll sleep in here,” Buck offers.
“The sheets need to be changed.” I don’t want to touch them.
“I’ll sleep in my dad’s room,” he amends. “Come on.”
I follow him down the hall. He unlocks his door. His room is a typical teenage guy mess. Clothes hang over his computer chair and litter the floor around his bed and by his dresser and closet. A box of tissue and a giant bottle of lotion sit on his nightstand. The garbage can beside his bed is full of used tissue.
“I don’t know if your bed is any better than the one in my room,” I observe.
“I changed my sheets this morning.”
I side-eye him.
“Swear on my mom’s grave.” He makes the sign of the cross.
My heart twinges at that. My mom told me he lost his mom to a rare brain tumor when he was just three.
“My friends think you're cute,” he blurts. “They like the whole nerdy vibe you got going on.” He makes a circle motion to my face.
“They probably think I’m all inexperienced and virginal. And I’m close to fun-sized with a rack.” I motion unnecessarily to my boobs. “All plusses for the cisgender straight or bi identifying XYs.”
“Are you inexperienced?” Buck’s voice cracks.
“Teenage boys are idiots. My mom is pro-self-exploration.”
“Whoa. Wait. What?” His eyes are comically wide. “You masturbate?” He sounds like he’s regressed a few years and puberty has reclaimed him.
I roll my eyes and stalk across his room, pointing to his nightstand where exhibits A through C are located.
“Yeah, but I’m a dude. All dudes choke the chicken.”
“So because I’m a girl, I’m not supposed to take care of my own needs?”
His unfocused gaze moves over me. “If you become my stepsister, you’re forbidden. My teammates think that’s cool.”
I hold up both hands. “Stop right there. Whatever you’re thinking about saying, keep it in your word hole. That path is closed. Never to be walked down. Ever. There are enough romance books out there about it, and that’s where it should stay, in fiction.”
“It’d be weird if we hooked up,” he mutters.
“Our parents are dating and based on how things are going, there is a solid chance they’ll get engaged, which means they’ll get married, and then we’ll be stepsiblings. The only things we have in common is that our parents are hot for each other and we’re both in high school. From a statistical standpoint, the chances that we would work out in the long term are exceptionally low. Especially since you’re heading for a career in professional hockey and a ridiculous number of girls have flirted with your exceptionally drunk ass since I got here tonight. And you seem to be a huge fan of the attention, which is understandable since you’re a walking hormone. Based on these factors alone, it would be an extremely bad idea to hook up.” I’m also not into the fuzzy blond jock type, but I leave that part unsaid.
“That’s not. I didn’t mean—” He turns around, grips the door jamb, and hurls all over the floor.
At least it’s the hallway, and it’s hardwood.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
NOT THE TURN I EXPECTED
Sidney
“It’s just so pretty.” Skye hasn’t stopped smiling or staring at her ring.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I don’t like it. I love it. It’s beautiful.” She shifts in her seat. “I can’t believe I’m engaged. Should we tell the kids when we get home? Should we wait?”
“It’s totally up to you.” I set my hand palm up on the center console and she slips hers into mine. I bring it to my lips and kiss her knuckle. “Are we moving too fast? Should I have waited to pop the question until weekend away number two or three?”
“If you’d waited, we might not have such an exciting story to tell.” Skye squeezes my hand.
“This is true. That was one hell of a night.”
“I loved every moment, save the fifteen minutes between the spider and finding the ring.”
“How’s your head?” She has a minor bruise on her forehead that’s covered by her hair and a significant lump on top.
“It’s fine. Nothing a little concealer won’t cover until it fades.” She taps her lip. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep this news from Violet for very long. We’re pretty open with each other.”
“That’s fair. Miller and I are the same. Why don’t we see what the state of the house is, and if Miller and Violet have stayed friends? Then we can decide if we want to tell them right away,” I suggest.