Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
“You’re not pretty like a girl. You’re just pretty.”
His smile stretches wide, warming the edges of his face. “Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“That makes me so happy!”
I shuffle on my feet, rocking back and forth, and sneak a look at him, because he really is pretty—maybe the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Prettier than the anime girls, and I always thought nothing could beat them.
“As your friend…” He rummages in the pocket of his shorts, his tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth with concentration before he produces two pieces of candy. “Ta-da! Here, I’m giving you these. Happy birthday!”
When I don’t attempt to take them, too stunned to act, he shoves them in my hand.
“This is all I have, and they’re my favorite flavor. Mango. If you continue to be my friend, I’ll give you more. I promise.”
I can’t stop looking at the candy balls in my palm, a lightness blooming quietly in my chest.
An hour ago, I hated my birthday because Mom had been mad since early morning, and she and Dad were fighting. They fought last year, too, and the year before that, I believe. They always fight because Mom doesn’t like it when Dad comes late or doesn’t bring something she asked for.
Little by little, I’ve started to hate my birthdays. I’ve wished my birth date never existed. Maybe if it didn’t, Mom and Dad wouldn’t fight so much.
But for the first time, I’m happy to get a gift on my birthday.
This candy is the only gift I’ve gotten without fights before or after it.
“I know it’s not much, but the lollipop was ruined, or I would’ve shared. The candies are clean. I swear.” He tilts his head to look at me. “Do you not like them?”
“I do. Thanks.”
“Yay!”
“Here.” I pick the prettiest orange daisy from the bouquet in my hand and place it behind his ear, tucking it between the silky blond strands. “I’m giving you this, too.”
“Whoa…this is so pretty!” He trails a fingertip over the daisy, his smile spreading wide. “From now on, we’re friends, okay?”
“Okay.”
Yeah. Right.
Friends.
1
PRESTON
PRESENT—AGE TWENTY-TWO
We’re gathered here tonight to witness me hurting someone.
Or a few someones.
Or a whole fucking team of them.
Here’s the thing. We’re playing against our biggest rival tonight. You know, the Wolves—aka the slimy sons of bitches who keep eyeing my championship.
Some would argue—some being our captain, Kane—that it’s our championship. The Vipers’, to be exact. Since I’m just one of twenty-six players on the team. But hear me out. They wouldn’t get anywhere without me, so technically speaking, it’s my championship, bitches.
Back to the topic at hand, or the actual Wolves’ shitty arena we’re playing at tonight.
Light floods the ice as our guys skate into position. That pregame buzz hits early, a hum of adrenaline sliding under my skin and making me extra fucking hyper. Can’t wait to crush some egos tonight and send them home crying.
The place is packed full of people who came to watch my highness humble some peasants.
Okay, fine, they might have come to watch Kane and Jude. Especially Jude. He gets so much attention without even trying, and it makes me salty with extra sodium at times, but hey, he gets a pass for being my best bro.
Said big man—yup, that’s Jude, the resident hulk of the Vipers—skates beside me on the rink amid the crowd’s deafening cheers.
For the Wolves, not us, since it’s an away game, but I take a dramatic bow to our side of the audience anyway.
“Smile, Callahan,” I tell Jude, wearing my charming smile, complete with the most gorgeous dimples—not my description; it belongs to one of the beautiful ladies I fuck on the regular. But since she said it about me, I have the right to plagiarize.
Jude stops beside me, running a quick gaze over me as if assessing something.
What, I don’t know.
Actually, I do, but let’s pretend I don’t. Works like a fucking charm every time.
Jude’s a few inches taller than me and much broader, almost like he’s on a mission to tower over the world. He pulls on his gloves, still doing that not-so-discreet watching he’s obsessed with. “Focus, Pres.”
“I am focused—on doing public service.”
“Don’t be too antagonistic tonight.”
I search around, then place a hand on my heart. “Antagonistic? Moi?”
“He’s right, Pres.” Kane skates to Jude’s side.
The captain of being a pain in the ass, ladies and gents.
Fine, okay. He’s not bad. Just a nagging little bitch sometimes—actually, most of the time.
Kane’s build is somewhere between Jude’s wrestler-like muscles and my lithe, perfect physique. He also has seriously creepy light-blue eyes that look especially muted now, almost reflecting the ice.
“The Wolves’ defense is aggressive,” he says, giving me a solemn look that fits a grandpa. “You goading them will only end badly for you. Play clean.”
“Nah, don’t worry. They’ll all fall into my trap.” I whistle, motioning toward their side. “Will be sending those peasants to the box one at a time.”