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)
Anytime we all woke up hungover, sleepy, and struggled to get going?
We fucking rallied.
One guy started chanting any word or phrase. Today, it sounded like the phrase had settled on “chocolate chip pancakes,” but with each passing round, they got more intense, until it sounded like we had a whole house full of guys about to go to war for a breakfast food.
I blinked open my eyes to see the sun filtering through my blinds.
And that’s when I remembered.
Gray had fallen asleep in my bed last night.
Holy fuck.
I turned quickly in bed to look at the other side of the mattress.
Relief hit me all at once as I saw that the bed was empty other than me.
Gray must have left sometime earlier.
I sat up, running my fingers through my hair and trying to shake the sleepiness away.
“Chocolate chip pancakes,” I muttered under my breath in unison with the chants coming from below.
I tossed off my shirt and stepped out into the hallway, rubbing at my eyes.
And then I shoulder checked someone right as I was about to enter the bathroom.
“Gilman,” I said, getting an eyeful of a very tired-looking Gray, also shirtless. “You’re still here?”
Christ, he looked good, even when both of us were hungover and barely awake enough to form words.
My gaze landed on the bandages and scrapes along his arm, and the faint one at the edge of his face, and I wanted to lean over and kiss each one of them.
The fucking things he’d told me, last night.
How could anyone have treated him that way, when he was just a child?
How unfair was it that he had to grow up in that environment, always feeling like he was worthless and just a pawn for his mother to use?
“Does it look like I’m still here?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow at me.
God.
I even liked that, now, too.
His constant fucking attitude was familiar to me now. I enjoyed it.
Do I have a crush on you, or am I going crazy?
“Well, good morning to you, too.”
His eyes scanned my torso, lingering a little on my abs before he looked up at me again.
“I’m fucking freezing.”
“I noticed,” I said, putting out a hand to run my fingers over the goosebumps on his stomach.
He swatted my hand away, but then changed his mind and gripped his fist around my wrist, pulling me in.
“You’re obviously just as cold,” he told me.
I didn’t tell him that my own goosebumps only got there because I saw him.
“You can blame Luke for that one. He keeps turning the heat off on cool mornings. Sometimes he even cracks a window.”
“It can’t be more than fifty-five degrees out there.”
“He says he likes the fresh air.”
One of the guys below screamed. “That’s what I call chocolate chip motherfuckin’ pancakes!”
Gray gave me a look.
“Thinking about putting that in your article?” I joked. “The guys wake up chanting about food?”
“I’m thinking the article will be about how insane you all are instead,” Gray told me.
A shadow moved somewhere further down the hallway.
I grabbed Gray’s arm, pulling him into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.
“You’re still here,” I repeated.
“Yeah. I slept like a fucking rock until your bros decided it was time to warm up their vocal cords.”
I snorted. “I need to shower. Don’t leave this room.”
I stripped naked and hopped in, turning the shower on hot. Steam billowed out from the shower, and as I felt the heat pound onto my skin, I hummed at the sensation.
“You’re going to hog all that heat to yourself and not expect me to come get some?” he protested.
God.
I really do like him.
A moment later he had thrown away his bandages, stripped naked, and was huddling close to me in the shower. I moved to the side so he could have some of the heat, and he washed off all of his cuts and scrapes.
“Do they still hurt?” I asked.
“Just a little sore. They closed up, at least.”
After he washed them they looked a lot better, though the scrapes were still dark red against his skin.
I reached for my body wash and lathered myself all over, then went for my shampoo next.
“Move,” I said, giving him a little shove.
What I actually wanted to do was wrap my arms around him, but I didn’t know how to act around him this morning.
It was like something had shattered inside me.
I wanted to be nice to him.
And that was a weird feeling.
We showered off, quick and easy. After five minutes we were clean and the room was full of hot steam. We stepped out and I handed him a towel, letting my eyes linger on the droplets clinging to his lower abs.
“Peachel! Chocolate chip pancakes!” I heard suddenly from the other side of the door.
A moment later, the loud pounding of fists resonated from the door through the bathroom, and the handle jiggled.