Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Am I missing something?”
“Only thing you’re missing is a whisk in your hand and an apron covering those abs.”
I ran a hand through my hair, realization dawning on me like a brick to the face.
“Fuck. The charity bake-off.”
“We were talking about it yesterday, Peachel,” Luke said.
“I know. I just… forgot, like I always do.”
I felt heat rising to the back of my neck. I didn’t know why it was so damn hard for me to keep track of anything that wasn’t football. It was like my mind was a sieve, ready to filter out anything that had to be scheduled.
And it fucking sucked.
It made me feel like I was permanently one step behind everybody else.
“It’s going to be fun. I’m making a pumpkin spice cake. What did you decide on?”
I pulled in a lungful of air as we walked out onto the quad. “I didn’t decide. Because, again, I forgot.”
“Brownies are easy,” Luke said. “You know what? Apple cobbler is even easier. Do that.”
“No clue how.”
“There’s this invention called the internet that has a whole lot of recipes on it.”
“And Gray’s pompous ass is going to be there.”
“Hmm?”
“He told me he’d be there tonight. Because he has to get his hands into everything.”
“Was he talking to you? On record or off the record?”
“He texted me, because I was dumb enough to give him my number. He said he could help tutor me in my history class, and I desperately need that.”
“Wonder if he’ll get drunk this time.”
My veins went cold.
I lifted an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Luke couldn’t know about what I did with Gray… right?
He had a shit-eating grin on his face. “You transferred in. You didn’t see him in freshman year.”
I pulled out my bottle of electrolyte water from my duffel bag and took a sip.
Even better.
Tell me the gossip about him.
“What did he do in freshman year?”
“Parents Weekend, that year. Carter was in the same dorm as Gray Gilman. He always kept to himself, doing that sort of mysterious bullshit he was doing at practice the other day. But on Parents Weekend he got super whiskey-wasted, and later on when Carter asked him where his parents were, he talked more than he’d talked all semester.”
“Telling stories about his parents?”
“Bro, he told us some shit.”
I glanced over at Luke, who was shaking his head and looking off into the distance on the quad.
“His mom forced him to be, like, a kid thief or something. Used to get thrown into juvenile detention a lot for fucking with people. He said he saw a man get shot once.”
“What the fuck?”
“Seemed like whatever he told us was the short version, too. I don’t know what kind of things he’s been through, but it isn’t pretty. He doesn’t play sports but he could probably kill any of us.”
“And now he’s one of the smartest students here,” I said.
Gray hadn’t told me anything about his mom the other night, other than the fact that he didn’t have a relationship with her anymore.
He was a thief?
And what did he do to “fuck with people,” anyway?
No shot Gray was violent, was he?
“The guy could beat our asses on every standardized test and probably ruin our lives if he wanted to,” Luke said.
“Gray isn’t going to ruin shit,” I said.
I hoped it was true.
I pulled out my phone again and saw another text.
Gray: You and Luke look cute together on the quad.
I pulled my head up, looking all around.
How the hell did he see me right now?
Gray wasn’t on any of the benches around here.
He wasn’t under a tree or walking across the quad, either.
Was he up in one of the buildings, looking down at us from the Physics hall or the library?
Andrew: Watching me?
Kind of my job.
If you’re that obsessed with my ass, you should have fucked it when you had the chance.
I’ll have the chance again. Not that I’ll be taking it.
Something’s wrong with you.
Trust me, Peach, I know.
After everything Luke just told me, his texts should have freaked me out. But I felt my cock stirring under my shorts and I walked a little wider, trying not to get an obvious erection in the middle of the quad.
One thing about being an out and proud gay football player was that I’d gotten used to a small amount of danger in my life.
Sometimes, idiots on the internet talked shit about me.
Sometimes they got personal.
I’d had death threats.
Weird, suspicious shit mailed to my name at the frat house.
There had even been some fake bomb threats called to my frat, and later on, we’d find anonymous posts on football forums online where people gloated about how funny it had been to see from the street.
Some people hated me, but I wasn’t going to let them stop me from being who I was.
And if Gray wanted to tail me, watching my every move?