Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
God, I did not want to be discussing this crap with him. “No. I know how to keep my dick in my pants.”
“And you call yourself a football player, pfft.”
Because, according to him, football players needed a case of the clap and the sole goal of spreading their seed. “Enough about who I’m not fucking.” I shouldered through the crowded walkway toward the student center. “Did you bring the sign-up form for the auction?”
“Yeah.” He scratched his arm. “I’m guessing we’ll make an easy five hundred bucks today.” We walked into the building, and a cold burst of air hit my skin. “Petey and Bellamy are already setting up the table. Because they didn’t have to wine and dine some girl this morning.”
Ignoring that comment, I followed Rogue into the cafeteria. The hum of conversation and clatter of cutlery drowned out his bullshit as we headed to the back of the room where Petey, Bellamy, and his girlfriend, Drew, were erecting an Omega Dicksolon banner.
Rogue dropped his backpack on the table and rummaged through it, scratching his arm again as he pulled out a stack of sign-up sheets, followed by a metal cash box. His gaze narrowed when he held the box up to the light. “Oh, fuck no.” He shoved it in Bellamy’s face. “You see that?”
Bellamy’s dark brows creased. “Yeah. It’s a box.”
“No, look at that!” Rogue’s finger swept the dinged-up lid. “Fresh scratches. From those fucking rats!” The box hit the table with a clang. “That’s it. I’m calling an exterminator.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, then put it to his ear.
Bellamy’s attention drifted across the table to me. “You think maybe the drugs are getting to him?”
I glanced at Rogue, still scratching his arm like some crackhead in his pink Gucci shirt. “It’s a very real possibility.”
“Rogue’s always been a little…off.” Drew shrugged. “Dropped on his head as a baby, my mom says.”
Bellamy snorted. “Tell me he and Hendrix aren’t kindred, eccentric spirits. Head injuries and all.”
Rogue lowered the phone for a second. “Don’t compare my bloodline to one of the Hunt brothers.”
“And that’s why we don’t bring money into the fold, Bell.” I jutted my chin toward Drew. “They judge.”
“Give me a break, Wolf. Mother Teresa would judge Hendrix—Hi, yeah, I need an exterminator.”
“And you,” I mumbled, securing the banner while Rogue argued over the phone that two weeks was too long to wait when his health was at stake.
Before he hung up, he said he would call management. His rich boy was showing. “I swear to God. They expect me to live with those things!” He collapsed onto one of the folding chairs behind the table, still clawing at his arm. “I can’t live like this.”
And I couldn’t live with his diva ass banging a broom against the ceiling at midnight. I rounded the table and gave him a pat on the back. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll swing by Wal-E-Mart and grab some traps on the way home.” I sank onto the chair between Bellamy and him. “Big Bad Ratatouille won’t get you.”
“It’s not funny. Everything around me is crumbling,” Rogue mumbled.
I’d pay money to feel like a few rats in the attic were my world crumbling.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Rogue.” Drew rolled her eyes before kissing Bellamy. “See you later. Have fun persuading women to sell their bodies for your—” she made air quotes—“‘penguins.’”
Rogue glared at her back as she strolled through the cafeteria. “I’m not dramatic.”
“The fuck you aren’t,” I said.
“Rats!” He banged his fist on the table. “We have rats living in our house.”
Bellamy leaned back in his chair, one dark brow arched as he glanced around Rogue’s back. “He never would have made it in Dayton.”
“Fuck!” Rogue frantically scratched over his arm, which was now red raw.
“Definitely think it’s the drugs,” Bellamy whispered.
I eyed the claw marks with suspicion. Pink clothes, laxatives, rats…
Something bouncy caught my periphery seconds before Megan rounded the table.
“Hey, Wolf.” She flipped her blond hair behind her shoulder, and I pulled in a hard breath. “I just wanted to say I think it’s really crappy the coach suspended you.”
I willed her to leave. Of course, she didn’t pick up on my disinterest; she just kept yapping.
“I can’t believe Brent tried to take a swing at you.”
Pretty sure I rolled my eyes at that.
“Why would he be so dumb?”
Because he was that dumb. Almost as dumb as her.
“Easy.” Rogue thumbed at me. “Because Wolf’s fucking his ex-girl.”
Megan’s psychotic, bleach-white smile dropped. “You’re dating Jason Voorhees.”
Bellamy buried his face in his hands. “Jesus Christ…”
Great. The last thing I needed was her trying to start shit. I shot a glare at Rogue. Idiot looked happier than a pig in shit. He may like a toxic merry-go-round; I, however, did not.
“Come on, Megan,” Bellamy said. “You know Wolf isn’t the dating type. He’s more the fuck-and-chuck type. Again, as you know.”