Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Are you talking about the partying or the dangerous hobbies?” I referred to the past few months of extracurricular activities that included him snowboarding on one of the most difficult trails in Switzerland, tandem skydiving in Fife, and motor racing against his friend, Daire Montrose, a Scottish Formula 1 driver. I repeat: He thought it was a good idea to race against a Formula 1 driver!
Baird grinned unrepentantly. “You say dangerous, I say fun. And I’m going to take you skydiving one of these days. I see the way your face lights up whenever I mention it.”
I wrinkled my nose because he wasn’t wrong. There was a part of me that longed to shrug off this safe little cocoon I’d built for myself. When I mentioned to Will it might be fun to skydive, he’d scoffed and told me I’d hate it. I thought he was simply protecting me from myself.
Yet, if I thought about it, I used to take calculated risks before I met Will. Going off to London for university was the biggest one. Had I stopped living a bit after I met Will? Had I allowed him to stifle me?
Hmm.
“Hey. You okay?” Baird leaned forward, brow furrowed with concern.
“Don’t change the subject,” I evaded. “You know you’ve gone off the rails since …”
“‘Going off the rails’ is a bit dramatic. I’m enjoying life. But the partying stuff … It won’t happen again. It can’t. The new club owner has me by the balls.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not only can I not put another foot wrong but he wants me out in public doing positive PR. Volunteer work, that kind of thing.”
I tried not to chuckle. “Well, that sounds awful. What an evil thing to make you do. Helping people.”
Baird made a face at my sarcasm. “Ha, funny. C’mon. It’s not about the helping part. It’s the PR part. I mean, I hate that fake bullshit. I know it’s a reflex for people to film absolutely everything, but filming your ‘good deed’ to post on social media gives me the fucking boak.”
“Right?” I agreed. “Every time someone shares one of those reels where they film themselves doing something nice for a stranger or a friend, and people are all like ‘You’re the loveliest, you’re the kindest,’ I’m like, really? You’re buying into this? It’s self-aggrandizing, narcissistic BS. You do a good deed because it’s the right thing to do. It’s not something that’s premeditated. You don’t film yourself doing it to post on socials to have a million strangers pat you on the back.”
Baird chuckled. “Tell me how you really feel, babe.”
“I just did.”
“Well, exactly. I’m going to be that wanker posting my good deeds online.”
“It’s different. You have to do what you need to, to stay on the team.”
“Aye, well, I’d already decided after this morning not to be a prat.” His eyes darkened. “And I willnae try a hard drug again. I mean it, My. I felt like shit after it, anyway. It’s no’ for me.” His accent thickened with his emotion.
Relief moved through me. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
“Do you …uh … do you … can you tell me about your mum?”
The thought of explaining my background nauseated me. It was like being stripped naked in front of people so they could judge all my defects. I rubbed at my eyes, giving my pulse a minute to slow.
“Let me just take out my contacts and then I’ll tell you.” I placed my mug on the coffee table, stood, and strolled into the bathroom.
“I forgot you wear them,” he called after me.
“I don’t forget. They’re a pain in the butt, and there are many times I’ve been tempted to spend my well-earned savings on laser surgery.”
I heard his approaching footsteps as I pulled my contact lens solution out of the bathroom cabinet.
“You should just do it.”
He filled my peripheral. I turned my head to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his biceps straining the sleeves of his T-shirt.
“I can’t spend my savings on eye surgery.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m saving for a deposit on a house. In this city, that might take me a million years. Not all of us are professional footballers, you know.”
“I rent.” He shrugged.
He did. He rented the coolest flat I’d ever seen down in Dean Village. His bedroom looked like it was floating above the kitchen in a glass cube. No joke. “But you can afford to buy.”
“Get the laser surgery, My. Life is short.”
I muttered under my breath about responsibilities and such as I tipped my head to capture the contact off my eyeball.
“I don’t know how you touch your eye like that.”
I frowned as my vision blurred in front of me. “You get used to it.” I fumbled for my glasses and shoved them on. Vision clear, I put everything away and then walked over to him. “All done.”