Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
“Yo, you played with my brother, Clayton Miller!” The guy grins. “I’m Calvin.” He reaches a hand out, and I take it for a shake. He glances back, a couple others walking up to join us, before facing me. “I was on the freshman team your senior year. Didn’t play much then, but I’m starting safety now. Varsity.”
“Good for you, man.” I smile. Looking across at the others, I say, “Running backs?”
The one on the end gives a drunken smile and raises his cup. “Nailed it.”
“Coach still playing his running backs both ways?”
“Yup. Running back on offense, outside linebacker on defense.”
I nod, looking to the big guy with his chin lifted all cocky-like. He’s a good six two with shoulders that about rival my own. “Let me guess, you’re the new me?”
“Depends.” He lifts a lazy shoulder. “Who were you?”
Cameron chokes on a laugh, pulling my wallet from my back pocket to pay the keg guard.
“Bro, shut up!” The eager friend shoves him. “You know who he is. You’ve been trying to break his record for two years now.”
The guy glares at his friend, and I fight the smirk that wants to appear.
Little fucker.
“I’ll run some drills with you tomorrow morning if you’re up for it.”
The guy narrows his eyes, trying to decide if he wants to keep the toughness about him, but we’re all the same here: small-town boys who want to make our families proud—make ourselves proud.
“Yeah, man.” He chooses the right route. “I’m free tomorrow.”
“At the field, six a.m.?”
He nods, standing a little taller.
Cameron slips in front of me, passing me a cup with a secret smile. “See?” she whispers. “King.”
She kisses my jaw, a natural gesture she’s done a hundred times over, but this time, the soft press of her lips makes my skin feel tight. I want to hold her there, tip my head to the side and see if she’ll keep going, trace a path that she can call her own. Feel the heat of her breath and see if it rivals the heat building in other places. My eyes lower to hers, and she winks, slipping away, and I shift my body so I can keep her in my sight but stay to answer questions about college ball with the new West Coldon High varsity players.
Cameron makes friends fast, and it helps that we’re only a couple years older than them. She dances around with several girls before hopping over to dominate the reigning duo at beer pong.
She smiles and laughs and drops down by the fire, talking about god knows what but having a good-ass time while she does it.
I note that the dude I offered to train with tomorrow has swapped his Solo cup out for a can of grape soda and smile to myself. I wonder if he noticed I passed my cup off, not having had a single drink.
I’ve just finished a conversation with a guy I remember from high school when Cameron wraps her little arms around my stomach, sticking her hands inside the pocket of my hoodie like I did hers.
“Warm me up, big bear man.”
Chuckling, I spin in her arms, hauling her up and holding her to me, being sure to keep her “dress” under her ass, and she knows not to wrap her legs around me this time. “Ready to get out of here? I’m starving and you know my mom’s got something good waiting.”
“Oh! I hope it’s her baked mac and cheese!”
This time, it’s me who kisses her cheek. “Of course you do.”
She wiggles to be let down, but I’m not ready to let go yet, so I carry her, even in the awkward pencil-like position her outfit demands of her, and deposit her in the passenger seat this time. I jog around the truck and hop in, driving us back to my house.
As soon as we pull back onto the main road, the rains starts coming down, just as my dad said it would. Cameron tucks her feet under her, leaning over until her elbow is brushing mine on the console as she searches for something to listen to on the satellite radio. Facing the road, I cut a quick side glance her way, noting the little frown of concentration as she skips station after station, trying to find the perfect one to match her mood. She has no clue she’s touching me, but it was the first thing that registered in my mind.
She settles on hip-hop, bouncing all around as she sings along, pointing my way and doing her damnedest to get me to join in.
I’m shit with lyrics, so I help out with the chorus here and there, and just as we’re rolling up to the stop sign before our street, the track changes, and Drake’s “In My Feelings” comes on, and her head snaps my way, her slow grin only growing wider and wider.