Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
My stomach twists at the thought of him, at the thought of the years I wasted trying to be his idea of perfect because I’d put him on a pedestal the night he'd taken my virginity. I put such an emphasis on sex and his interest in me that I never realized or spotted the red flags when he’d shown them to me.
“Monroe,” Reese chides her, but her smile is bright as she shakes her head. Her long brown hair is pulled into a cute updo, her bangs sweeping effortlessly over her forehead—a look I could never pull off but love on her. She wears a pair of hoop earrings and a cream off-the-shoulder top paired with a set of leggings that are tucked into boots. For as much as she says she loves to be behind the camera and out of the limelight, she could hold her own with the celebrity athletes on our team.
“What?” Monroe says, reaching for her salted caramel latte. “You heard how she described that kiss. If someone kissed me like that? Nothing would stop me from getting more.”
I purse my lips at her. “Even if he was a Badger? I'm literally their skating coach now. Do you know how wrong that is?”
“I think it's more wrong that you're the coach's daughter,” Reese interjects.
“Do you two live in the same century as me?” Monroe asks. “Seriously, a woman gets to choose who she wants to be with.”
“Unless it's wildly inappropriate,” I fire back, but we're all chuckling. “And I'm sorry, but messing around with Lawson Wolfe would be totally inappropriate.”
“Has he asked for private lessons yet?” Monroe asks.
“Not yet, thank goodness.” He'd playfully threatened as much last week when he caught me outside in the parking lot, but he hasn’t brought it up in the days since. The entire team now has my cell phone number, and I had his thanks to him putting it in my phone.
But I hadn’t used it. Even when I’d seriously thought about it.
“How are the guys handling it?” Reese asks.
“They're warming up to me,” I say. “Slowly. Some of them are certain that there's no way I'm going to be able to help them, but a few are coming around. I had to make the switch to hockey skates on day two since none of them could take me seriously in my figure skates. Thank goodness Dad has trained me in both since I was six. But it helps that the veterans are all on board and supportive, and most of the rest of the team are coming around.”
“Pax being one of them, I'm guessing?” Monroe asks.
“Of course,” I say. “Pax is probably the sweetest guy I've ever met. You know that better than me. He's had my back since day one.” Monroe’s best friend definitely gives boy-next-door vibes, but he’s ripped like the best hockey players, with short brown hair and light brown eyes, and he’s earned his vet status on the team, so his support is everything.
“He better,” Monroe says, smirking slightly. “If he didn’t, I'd kick his butt just like I did in fifth grade.”
I smile at my friend and sip my iced coffee, knowing it’s more likely that she’d kick my butt if I so much as uttered an aggressive word toward her golden-retriever best friend.
That man had a space in her heart that neither me nor Reese could touch, but I'm glad that she made room for us when we met freshman year.
Of course, Reese and I always thought that there was something more between the two, mainly because being around them felt like watching a romcom with how much they laughed and talked and got along, but Monroe always assured us it’d never been that way between them.
“But seriously,” Monroe continues. “Are the other vets being good to you? What about Baylor and Nash? Kiplin?”
“Baylor is all for anything that improves his physique, you know that,” I answer, referring to our left wing who looks like he could fit in just as well on a football field tackling other giants. I'm pretty sure his bedroom is located directly inside the gym. “And Kiplin, as much of an asshole as he can appear to be, was the first one to be supportive.”
Both my friends raise their eyebrows at the mention of the Badgers’ captain, his bristly exterior and constant trouble off the ice—at least in the media—no doubt leading to their surprise.
I wave them off. “I know,” I say. “I was surprised too, but he's a good captain. He's down with whatever will help them win this season.”
“And Nash?” Reese asks, glancing at her phone as a notification pops up. She quickly checks something on the screen then sets her phone back down. “How's he been? Toward you?” she adds quickly.
Monroe and I share a conspiratorial look. “You could talk to him, you know,” I say.