Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I give her a sharp look. “Who said it was a meme?”
She smirks.
Traitor.
With the kind of resignation usually reserved for tax audits and root canals, I grab the phone from the counter. Before even glancing at the screen, I already know who it is.
Jax.
The preview is just an image and one line of text:
Annoying Puck Boy:
This cat has your energy
Against my better judgment, I open the convo and find a picture of a tortoiseshell cat in a sweater glaring at the camera.
It takes effort to stop my lips from twitching.
There’s a message beneath the photo.
Annoying Puck Boy:
This is proof that somewhere out there is your spirit animal
I stare at the screen. This is exactly the kind of thing I don’t have time for tonight. Or any night, for that matter. I don’t have time for memes and hockey players with dimples that are used like tactical weapons. I don’t have time for men who flirt like it’s second nature and grin like no one’s ever told them no before.
If I ever find out who gave Jax Wilder my number, I’ll bludgeon them to death.
With pleasure.
Still, the cat flashes in my head again, and the corner of my mouth betrays me.
Faith narrows her eyes. “Wait a minute… Is that… a smile?”
I straighten on the chair. “Absolutely not.”
Her eyes dance with mischief. “Yeah, it was. I saw it.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
Sawyer leans across the table, as if he can smell weakness. “Is that the hockey guy again?”
My answer comes a little too quickly. “No. Of course not.”
Three skeptical faces stare back at me.
I sigh. “Eat your soup.”
Sawyer points his spoon at me. “That’s a yes.”
“It’s not a yes.”
“It’s not a no either,” Faith singsongs.
I glare at the two of them. “Why are you people so obsessed with this?”
Sawyer shrugs. “’Cuz you hate everyone, and you only make that face when it’s him.”
I blink. “I do not make a face.”
He just stares at me.
Faith nods. “You kind of do.”
“What face?” I ask begrudgingly.
Sawyer sets his spoon down. “Like you’re annoyed but also not.”
“That’s not a face.”
“Sure, it is,” Sawyer says.
I inhale a slow breath through my nose. This is what my life has become. I work eight-hour shifts, run a household on caffeine and spite, and get psychoanalyzed by children who still leave wet towels on the floor and shoes in the middle of the kitchen.
Seriously love that for me.
I reach for my phone again, mostly so I can delete the text in front of them out of pure principle, but before I can unlock it, it buzzes for a third time.
Instead of a meme or a text, there’s a voice note.
With a squeal, Faith claps her hands. “Play it for the class, please.”
“No way.”
“Come on, Sloane,” she whines. “Just do it. We all want to hear what he has to say.”
“No.”
Sawyer grins. “Why not? There something you’re not telling us?”
I narrow my eyes at the little shit. “Don’t you have an algebra quiz to study for?”
“Kind of seems like you have a hockey-playing boyfriend you’re trying to hide from us,” my brother says with a devilish smile.
I point at him so fast I nearly spill my soup. “He is not my boyfriend. I barely know the guy.”
Faith and Sawyer exchange a dubious look. That’s when I realize they’re not going to let this go any time soon.
Caleb props his chin in his hand. “Why are your cheeks so red?”
“They’re not red.”
“Yeah, they are, dude,” Sawyer says with a laugh.
I rise so abruptly my chair scrapes loudly against the floor. “You know what? I’m done with this conversation.” I pause and glare at Sawyer. Whoever said the teen years were a nightmare was completely right. “And don’t call me dude.”
Faith and Sawyer grin at one another, like they’re sharing a private joke, as Caleb continues to eat his soup. I snatch up my phone and stalk toward the sink, opening the voice note only because if I don’t, they’ll follow me around, yapping about it until they’re blue in the face.
I keep the volume low.
Jax’s amused voice spills through the speaker.
“Before you get mad, I’d like to officially state that the cat found me, not the other way around. I was selected. Also, you do not look grumpy. You look aggressively unimpressed, which feels both more accurate and somehow hotter. And if you’re currently pretending not to laugh at my jokes, I still deserve points for commitment. That’s all. Night, Sloane.”
My stomach does this weird nosedive thing as I lock the phone again.
Behind me, Sawyer is the first to pipe up. “Well? What’d it say?”
I rinse my spoon under the faucet, trying to sound bored. “Nothing. It was just a bunch of random nonsense.”
Faith hums. “So it was, in fact, the hockey guy.”
I shut off the water before turning around. “You’re all seriously exhausting.”