Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Kole smiles at me, and it’s both a blessing and a shame I’m not his type. It’s a blessing because I won’t fuck up this friendship or my spot on the team by crossing lines. But damn, it would be fun to have a few sweaty hours with him.
When he checks me out again, I can’t stop the smug look from spreading across my face.
“Just to clarify, you’re not into me? My eyes are up here.”
“Like my best friend Katey says, I can look with my eyes, not with my hands.”
I’m almost tempted to try to change his mind on that, but no. Not hooking up with the only friend I have at this school is smart.
Then again, when did I ever claim to be that?
10
Kole
After our ice cream date, Asher’s been busy with hockey and I’ve been busy with school, but most importantly, I’ve been busy trying to get images of us fucking out of my head.
Because it turns out, I am not immune to Asher Dalton’s flirting. Which sucks because he’s so … him.
Every time I jerk off lately, all I can think of is messy black hair and taunting green eyes. Then I’d turn up for practice to fulfill my equipment manager obligations and witness him do some boneheaded, testosterone-induced toxic masculinity shit, and I’d be so disappointed in myself.
My standards have never exactly been at the meet-my-parents level, but this is a new low even for me.
I have to admit, he’s been nicer to the team since he and Simms talked it out, but one conversation isn’t going to make years of using his nonchalant attitude as a shield disappear.
I’d really been hoping to build up some kind of resistance before the team’s first away game, but here we are, on the bus back to the hotel after the team managed to pull a win out of their asses, and when I glance back at Asher …
No, no, nope.
I’m definitely, certainly, incredibly not thinking about the way his tongue wrapped around that ice cream spoon.
He was only flirting to get under my skin as payback, and well, it worked. It really fucking worked.
Dad’s in a rare good mood with his players, even though they lost the first two preseason games. This one was more a case of them getting lucky, but it was good to see Asher, Simms, and Kaplan finally starting to look like a team. There might be hopes for the season yet. It’ll be interesting to see if they can pull it off tomorrow and get back-to-back wins. Dad’s already warned them that if anyone sneaks out tonight, they won’t be playing.
As promised, Asher and I have a long night of studying ahead anyway.
When we get to the hotel, I hang back to make sure everyone on the team grabs their bags off the bus. It really is like babysitting a bunch of man children, but at least today, they’re high from finally coming out on top.
And they’re all in suits. Hot men in suits are my weakness. Wait, hot men in general are my weakness.
Dad sorts out the registration while the team fills the foyer, being loud and taking up way too much space. As a shock to no one, they’re recounting the game and talking through plays and convincing each other that they have the game tomorrow in the bag.
Even Asher manages to crack a smile. It’s probably a good thing smiling for him is rare because damn, he’s possibly the most attractive man I’ve ever seen up close when he does.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and grab the room keys from Dad to start handing out. Like I told Asher, I’m in charge of rooming assignments, and if I was any kind of team player, I would have roomed Asher and Simms together.
But when it came time to write out a list for Dad, I’d convinced myself that Asher studying was more important. Besides, I can handle a little flirting. Especially when it’s coming from a guy who has no follow-through. He’s only doing it to make me uncomfortable.
Once all the keys are handed out except for ours, I cross the lobby toward Asher and flick him his room key. “Want to go up?”
He nods, and we leave most of the team behind who are still celebrating their win while they can. Dad will call for curfew in a bit and send them all to bed.
The doors to the elevator close with only us in it, and the space feels way too small.
“Good game today,” I say to cut him off from shamelessly saying something laced with innuendo.
“We were still shit. Just got lucky that the other team was worse.”
I hum because disagreeing would be a lie. “Maybe you’ll get lucky again tomorrow.”
“Maybe.” He leans against the side of the elevator and drags a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “What have you been up to? I’ve barely seen you.”