Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
He waves that off and says, “I know he’s a scoundrel—it’s what makes him endearing. He’s a badass and also has the best friend ever, a seven-foot-tall Wookie with a gun. He’s my favorite Star Wars character ever, next to Yoda.”
Maverick likes Star Wars? I just assumed he sat around and watched recordings of football games while guzzling beer with a girl on either side of him.
I nod and point to my doodle. “Named my cat after him, Han Solo #2.”
“What happened to #1? Killed by a light saber?”
I laugh. “I hope she ran off with a tomcat. She’s probably living in a tree house with her baby kittens right now.” I don’t tell him I cried for a month when she disappeared. I don’t actually know what happened to her, but imagining her with a sweet little family is the vision I like to keep close to my heart.
“Living the dream,” he says, and I flick my eyes at him. He’s hard to look at full-on, but I do, letting our eyes meet, my green and his pale blue. Almost iridescent, like a glittering opal, they contrast vividly with his tanned skin. His chin is firm and square with the hint of a cleft in the middle, and his hair is a mixture of dark blond with streaks of gold, painted by the sun from all those days of practicing football. I can’t see his scar from this angle but I know it’s there, on the other side of his face, that one little imperfection.
A slight smile curves his lips as his eyes warm, and I seize up, realizing I’ve been staring about ten seconds too long. That kind of stare means you either want to kill someone or sleep with them, and I’ve just crossed that line.
“Delaney?”
He says my name softly, and my mouth dries up as a shot of electricity shoots straight to my core.
Good grief, ignore this weird hormonal reaction you have to Maverick.
Right. Now.
“You okay?” he asks.
He thinks I’m an idiot.
“Fine, totally fine. How’s it going? How’s football? Oh, yeah, it’s over…but you’re still practicing, right? To get ready for next year and all? Can’t believe we’ll be seniors. Also can’t believe you decided to stay another year when you could have been drafted.” I’m rambling and my voice sounds breathy. I gulp in a deep inhalation to steady myself.
He scratches his head, a bemused expression on his face. “You’re funny.”
“I don’t talk much, but when I do, I make the most of it.”
He laughs. “I stayed because I wouldn’t have been picked early enough yet. I need to build my stats if I want the best deal. I have a buddy who went early and his contract sucked. I have another friend who waited it out and got a two million dollar deal.”
“It’s all about the money.”
“Especially if you’ve never had it,” he adds.
Interesting. Maybe Maverick didn’t grow up with much. I think back to what I know about him, and I realize it’s basically nothing, except that he’s from Magnolia. I stare down at my doodle. I’m not rich like Alex, but I do okay with the money Nana left me. I own the house Skye and I live in, and I don’t have to work a full-time job. Thankfully, I’m at WU on an art scholarship.
I glance back up at him. “So…why is the big guy on campus sitting in the back of the auditorium with me? Isn’t there a football groupie somewhere crying because you aren’t next to her?”
“Because I can.” He pauses. “And you aren’t dating Alex anymore.”
“What does that mean?” I can’t believe I asked, but something about him has me feeling reckless.
He gets a tight look on his face. “Just an observation. You’ve been with him since freshman year, and everyone thought you guys were the perfect couple.”
“I didn’t think you cared—you know, with the twins and all.”
“You remember the bonfire.” It’s not a question.
“Kinda hard to forget.”
His eyes find mine. “I gave you your first kiss at the bonfire. Legend says you’ll never forget me.”
I tilt my head. “What’s your name again?”
He laughs, but soon a cloud seems to settle on the planes of his chiseled face. “Alex isn’t over you.”
“Why do you say that?”
His shoulders shift, the movement barely perceptible yet giving off a visceral impression of suppressed power.
“He’s my teammate, and I see how he looks at you. He wasn’t happy to see us standing together on Monday, and that was just an accidental run-in. Imagine how he’d react if there really was something between us.” His eyes slide over to my face. “He’d probably freak out and get pissed at me, and it would definitely screw up his game, and then poof, there goes our chance at a championship next year.” He gives me a teasing look. “Kickers are rather emotional…”