Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Put your foils on the rack and dream about the stiff ones we’ll have next time in class,” Chaz announces.
“He’s doing it on purpose! Has to be!” Charisma whispers, and we chuckle then put our swords away, grab our bags, and head out of class.
We stop on the steps. “What’s your next class?” she asks.
“History of Rome. You?”
“I have a break.”
“I’ll see you in psych on Wednesday then.” My eyes search hers; I’m not sure what I’m looking for.
People spill out of the buildings and walk around us, yet we’re unmoving.
She chews on that lip. “I actually took that Rome class last year as an elective and loved it.”
“Great. I could use some help with it. You free soon?”
She stiffens. “Oh, I’m really busy—”
“Come on, help a guy out.” I’m not sure what’s come over me, but she gave me an opening, so I’m jumping in and taking advantage.
Her eyes fly up to mine. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Blaze.”
“It totally is a great idea. You’re smart, and I struggle. I—I usually go over notes the day after classes and before the next one. I mean, I hate to be presumptuous, but are you free to help me around eight tomorrow night?”
She thinks on it for a while, her gaze averted as she looks down at her books.
Shit. What am I doing? She and I…we need to stay away from each other.
“I mean, if you’re busy, it’s cool.“
Her chest rises. “The library? Tomorrow?”
“Hell yeah,” I say, feeling breathless.
She gives me a curt nod. “Okay. No funny stuff though, Blaze. Just studying.”
I smirk. “Course not. Just me and you and a textbook. Friends, right?”
She pauses, her face unsmiling. “Right…friends.”
11
I’m lifting weights when Ryker and a man I don’t recognize waltz into the gym. The guy he’s with is tall, maybe forty, and wearing a slick gray suit. Big and bulky, he looks like a former player.
Ryker sees me and throws up a wave as they make their way over to me.
I let the weights go and stand up taller, straightening my shoulders.
Ryker slaps me on the back. “Blaze Townsend, meet Cedrick Clemmons.”
I nod at the smiling man and shake his hand. Big money, no doubt. I feel it oozing out, from his expensive leather loafers to the styled hair and spray tan. “Sir. Nice to meet you.”
Ryker smiles. “He’s a scout for the Giants and came down to talk to me. They get the number one pick this year.” He waggles his brows. Dude is flying high with all the attention he’s getting. Rightly so. He’s got an agent already, and I haven’t asked what his signing advance was—not my business—but I bet it was better than a convertible Mustang.
“Awesome,” I say. “Glad you could make it down to check him out. Ryker is a sure thing, the real deal.”
We exchange small talk, but soon they’re discussing the offense of the Giants, and I just stand there, unsure of how to extricate myself and get back to my workout. I drift off and think about my study session later with Charisma. I saw a chance to spend more time with her and I took it.
Why? Am I insane?
Why would I put myself in the position to be with her again, especially in the library—
I come back when I see that Ryker is looking at me, his forehead furrowed. I guess they finished their conversation.
Get your ass in the game, his eyes say.
He glances at Mr. Clemmons and then me. “I thought it would be good for Cedrick to meet my main target for the past four years. We kicked ass, right, bro?”
Ah, I see. He’s working it, getting me an intro.
I smile broader. “Yes, we did.”
Cedrick studies me, an analytical look on his face, sizing me up, probably trying to figure out if he needs a wide receiver.
Sweat pops out on my forehead, more than just from the workout, and drips down my cheek. I rake a hand through my hair to get it out of my face. If I’d known a scout was going to be here, I would have planned better, maybe a shower with real clothes on. Shit. But then, I guess he wants to size me up, and the gym is the perfect place for that.
Cedrick’s got super white teeth when he smiles. “Ryker tells me you’re an overlooked commodity and you’ll make some pro team happy if they take a shot. People aren’t talking you up much, but you never know.”
I know they’re not. I wake up every day and check ESPN.
“Good to know, Mr. Clemmons.” My voice is stilted. He’s standing there in probably a thousand-dollar suit, and I’m just a kid from Mississippi.
“Cedrick, please. Mr. Clemmons is my daddy,” he says with a Southern drawl, but it almost sounds like he’s overplaying the accent. I’m sure it isn’t for my benefit, but Ryker’s.