Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
I don't know!
Yesterday, I was convinced that Sidney wasn't my type. How can he be when I fit into his world like a square peg in a round hole? He's football royalty. I'm the girl everyone looks at like a science experiment gone wrong. Just look at what happened tonight. As soon as someone beautiful saw me on his arm, they thought it was some big, cosmic joke.
I don't want that to be the rest of my life, not when it's been my entire life to date. Despite my brothers trying to carve out a space for me—and God, they've tried—I already know how it feels to be brushed off, ignored, laughed at, and looked down on in their world.
I've lived that experience since I was a kid. My brothers have fought so hard to protect me, but the woman who should have fought for me? The one who should have given me confidence and courage? She's the one who told me that I'm not worthy, that I don't belong, that I'm just not pretty enough.
I've survived by hanging on the fringes, by not getting too deep into my brothers' world, by staying in the stands and on the sidelines. I support them in the shadows because the shadows are less painful.
But actually dating Sidney is an entirely different thing. There are no fringes then, no hiding in the library or going home to my normal, boring life after the game ends. There's no being invisible.
Being seen long enough to get my mother off my back? Easy. It's not like being the joke is anything new to me. But being the joke forever feels soul-crushing, especially if Sidney has to endure the humiliation alongside me.
I don't want the whole world to look at the two of us and think it's just some joke, or that he is. I actually like him as a person, enough to want to shield him from what people will have to say. And they'll say plenty. They probably already are.
I already feel bad enough, asking him to tolerate it until after the wedding.
"Are you ready to go, butterfly?"
I blink, glancing at him and then at the stage.
"It's over?"
"Yeah," he says, his voice soft. His worried gaze lingers on my face. "You were lost in your own head for the last half hour."
Crap.
"I'm sorry."
"You okay?"
"Fine," I say, a little too quickly. "Um, I'm fine. I was just thinking."
He jerks his chin in a nod before rising to his feet and holding his hand out to me. "Come on," he murmurs. "Let's get you out of here."
I allow him to pull me to my feet and wrap an arm around my waist. If anyone stares at us on the way out, I don't really notice, not when his thumb is right above my ass, rubbing maddening circles.
Neither of us says anything until we're in the truck with the doors closed, and then he turns to me, his face obscured in shadow.
"Did you have fun tonight?"
"I did," I whisper. "Your sister is a beautiful dancer." I never even imagined that there were professional, plus-size ballerinas, but his sister made dancing look effortless. She lives her life in a way I never have—completely unafraid. "I think she's my new hero."
I sense more than see his smile. "I definitely won't be telling her that. She's already a pain in my ass."
"You love her."
"Yeah, I do. Doesn't change the fact that she's a pain in the ass."
"I bet my brothers say the same thing about me."
"Have you ever hit your dance partner on stage?"
"What?" I gape at him. "Your sister did that?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"The prick deserved it," he growls. He doesn't seem very happy about whatever happened.
"Wow," I whisper. "Your sister is a badass."
"Wait until you meet her," he chuckles. "You might change your mind."
"You want me to meet her?" I gape at him, my heart pounding.
"She'll be at Tye's wedding."
"Oh." I swallow. "I didn't know that." I have to meet members of his family? I have to pretend to date him while meeting members of his family? Gulp. "You can tell her the truth about us if you want."
"And what truth is that, butterfly?" he asks.
"Um, that we're just…faking it?" I squeak.
"Ah. Is that what you were doing in the box tonight? Faking it?"
"What? No!"
"If I hauled you into the backseat right now and ate you, would you be faking that, Hattie baby?"
"N-no," I stutter. "It's just…"
I can see myself falling for you if I'm not careful, and that can't happen.
"I'm not your type," he growls with this tone that says he doesn't like that one bit.
"Right," I say weakly. "And I'm probably not yours. I mean, obviously, I'm not yours. What happened tonight was just—"
"Because I've thought about nothing else since you moved back."
"Exactly!" I cry, relieved he understands. And then my mind catches up to what he just said. "Wait. What?"