Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
But on the off chance the world was interested in my parentage, nonchalance was my best defense. Probably my only defense.
I set my worries aside and gave myself permission to enjoy the remainder of my senior year at Smithton with gusto. I worked on graduation-themed ideas for the show, highlighting influential teachers and interviewing fellow graduates about their job prospects and hopes for the future. It was an ambitious project that if done well would resonate with my viewers and count toward my senior exit project. Win-win.
But I was determined to have fun too…real fun.
January and February passed in a blur of hopeful acceptance. I wasn’t just a chronicler of on-campus happenings, I made an effort to be part of the action. I attended all of Ty’s home games, cheering him on in the student section like everyone else.
I didn’t think anyone noticed me. Sure, my hair was still a vibrant hue, but the more I showed up, the less I stood out…if that made sense.
I even went to a few of Gus Langley’s infamous beerfest gatherings where I generally hung out in a corner of the kitchen with his figure-skater roommate, Rafe, who always looked as if he were seconds away from throwing a butcher knife at his cohost. I diverted Rafe’s attention with witty repartee and even secured an interview with him at the rink while surreptitiously skewering the women clinging to Ty like Saran Wrap.
Puck bunnies didn’t concern me. Ty was his usual gregarious self, but he never led anyone on, and every night he came home to me—parking his Jeep a block away and rarely in front of the same house twice.
We were friends. And friends grabbed the occasional cup of joe at Coffee Cave and pizza at Vincento’s. We never lingered. We waited till we were alone to tear each other’s clothes off. And geez, it was so, so good.
Over the past few months, I’d mapped and memorized every scar and freckle on Ty’s skin, every expression—desire, hunger, adoration. He’d done the same with me. He touched me with reverence…as if the act was somehow sacred. Whether he took me from behind with my face pressed against the kitchen cabinets or wrapped securely in his arms, the sex was personal. It was more than release.
However, as out-of-this-world amazing as the sex was, I loved the quiet in-between times too. I helped bandage postgame scrapes and kissed Ty’s bruises while he played with Mabel. I cradled his head on my chest and glided soothing fingers over his biceps as he shared locker-room chatter and his thoughts on everything from world politics to the cliffhanger on Severance and the blueberry pancake mix I’d bought at the new health food market on Main Street.
“I want to like it. I really do. Blueberries are awesome and pancakes are the foundation of my food pyramid, but they fucked it up,” he’d commented in the shower, lathering soap in my hair.
Seriously…pancake talk in the shower.
“You’re using the wrong kind of syrup. You have to try their blueberry syrup.”
Ty had gently nudged me under the spray. “Are you fucking bananas?”
I’d snort-laughed. “I do not fuck bananas, thank you for asking.”
He’d smacked my butt and nibbled my ear. “Funny guy. I’m serious here. The only syrup that counts is maple. That’s it. Nothing else. And if you drown something in maple syrup and it still sucks, you got a problem. Pass the soap, please.”
I’d passed the soap, tucking my chin to my chest to hide my smile.
This was becoming dangerous.
Being with Ty was fun and easy. He made me laugh and think and yes, he was frustrating at times, but he was also charming and unexpectedly kind and—
Oh.
Oh, no…
It was worse than I’d thought.
I was in love with Ty Czerniak.
Ugh.
Don’t say a word. Not one word.
I was well aware that I was setting myself up for heartbreak.
We had a couple of months left together. That was it. Ty was scheduled to report to Jacksonville till late July, and me? Well, I had no real plans yet at all.
New York City didn’t sound appealing anymore. Lately, I’d been thinking about staying in Smithton. I could reimage my show with a travel angle and include fashion and food. I didn’t have to relocate. I could go wherever I wanted from here. I could even visit Ty in Florida or—
“Word on the street is that you and the hockey star are boyfriend official,” Robin reported, interrupting my happy daydream from his computer in my office.
I shot a curious sideways glance at him before returning to my monitor. “Where’d you hear that?”
“A girl from my mechanical engineering class who heard it from someone who claims to have witnessed a smooch.” Robin puckered up for good measure, pushing his glasses into place when they slipped down his nose. “No photos yet, but…perhaps there’s a smidge of truth?”