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)
But she’s never loved or been loved by one in that way, so maybe not.
Allana was always proud to show my name and number off, even though she was a year older than me. That first year she was here at Avix, my senior year of high school, she came back several times, mostly during holiday breaks, but she managed to make a few of my senior season games, and each time, she’d have my name or number written across her in some way. I’m not really sure when she started being unfaithful and stringing me along; all I know is, when I showed up on campus that first year, she was already cheating because she didn’t come home that summer. Summer school she’d said.
I should have seen the signs.
I should have let her go instead of doing what I did and allowing my hurt to turn to anger, then taking it out on other people—on the girl I think could have loved me the way I know I could have loved her.
My eyes slide to Cameron, but guilt has me quickly looking away. That damn hoodie swallows her whole.
The worst part is there’s no one to blame for that but myself. Too bad that fact doesn’t make this any easier.
When I first saw her here, I was excited. That lasted all of ten minutes when we stopped jogging around the room as a warm-up and her eyes no longer warmed my skin but rather shifted over to him.
I can understand why. It’s like I said—he’s effortless in his movements, his body fluid for a man his size, and he is a big fucker.
I’m not small, and I put a lot more time in the gym than I’d like to admit, but next to him I feel like the Robin to his Batman.
“You’ve got it down, man. Stop stressing.”
“I need to shave another second off my release. If I can’t do that, I’m never going to get a chance to fire the ball down field against Brighton on Saturday.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Come on, Lancaster.” I shake my head, running my hands through my sweaty hair before wiping my palms on my shorts. I don’t hold back my concerns. That will do us no good. “We both know we’re not getting much for rushing yards against their defense. We’re strong in receivers, but our running backs are lacking compared to theirs. We have to play a passing game to stand a chance at winning,” I stress. “That means if I don’t cut time off my own performance, the line will be broken through, and I’ll be on my ass, upping that asshole Jetson’s stats for every sack they make.”
Brady grimaces, reality setting in. “Fuck.”
I scoff. “Yeah. How’d you like to lose your lead in the division to that guy when he’s playing your own damn team?”
He scratches his neck, his face tight in thought before his eyes meet mine. “I’ve got an idea, but you might have to back me up here.”
“I’m all ears, man. I’ve hardly touched the field this season, and with Mason coming back next week, who knows when I’ll get to play again after tomorrow? I need all the highlight reels I can get.”
Brady looks off before bringing his gaze back to mine. “You’re doing good, Alister. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not,” he forces out, but it’s easy to see it’s not because he is incapable of giving a compliment. No, it’s another reason entirely—that and the man really doesn’t want to like me on principle. “Just…keep your head up and all that.” His features tighten again as he looks at me, but he sighs a moment later, his shoulders falling as he heads toward the girl I want to call mine.
I stand there, staring, as he grabs her hand and hauls her to her feet like she’s nothing but a feather, her smile bright, hair now piled on her head.
She turns, bending to shove his things in his bag, helping him get ready to go without being asked, and when she stands again, he wraps his arms around her, his body cradling hers completely.
The laugh she lets out at whatever he tells her reaches my ears, and my chest tightens. It’s sweet and easy, so different from how she laughs with me now. The laughs I earn from her these days are thick and hard-won.
I force myself to turn away from the pair, piling the cones one on top of another before moving to put them back on the racks. I stand there a minute, staring at nothing and waiting to hear the door close, letting me know they’re gone, when my name is called.
I look over, and she’s not in his arms anymore but standing beside him.
Ken and Barbie.
“You coming or what?” Brady shouts.
My brows snap together, and I want to ask where and what he means, but I don’t. I just grab my shit and jog toward the new—hopefully fake—couple, letting Brady lead the damn way.