Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
It’s a bundle of small white lies, but I don’t feel bad since none of them holds any malice. My goal is to ensure Ron doesn’t feel rejected, while at the same time knowing I’m headed somewhere—so he doesn’t feel like we can chitchat forever.
“A friend, huh?” he asks with a wag of his eyebrows. “I’ve heard legend about you with the female friends, dude. I can only dream of being as successful in my college career,” he teases, his eyes reminiscent of an eager puppy. Which, for all intents and purposes, is exactly what he is.
All the single guys who come into the atmosphere of college sports are like toddlers in a candy store for at least the first two months. They’re not used to getting so much easy attention, and they gobble it up until they’re bloated.
“Nah, man. Not like that this time. Just meeting a friend.” I laugh, rejecting the idea that I’m going to get some pussy, just in case he happens to see me headed into the lab. I know Lexi isn’t in the place to go spreading that shit everywhere, and even if she were, I’m not eager to have people cheapening whatever is happening between us.
I really like her, new sexual escapades completely aside. I’m not just spinning wheels here. I’m invested.
“Oh, gotcha.” Ron chuckles, a sizzle of misplaced understanding in his cockiness. “Next time, then.”
I nod. “Catch you later.”
Ron takes off again, looking back to wave a little before crossing between the theater and the stadium and, eventually, crossing Amsterdam Avenue. With the coast clear, I pull open the door to Ferris and step inside, letting the darkness overwhelm me.
The trek through the halls feels like a victory lap, compared to last time. I stride confidently, turning corners with the precision of someone who’s been here before. Because I have. No more wandering the labyrinth like an amateur; I’m a seasoned pro now.
What I don’t expect is to come face-to-door with someone exiting the lab at the exact moment I’m leaning in to peer through the small sidelight window of said door. It bumps me squarely in the forehead, and I stumble back, rubbing the spot as my vision momentarily blurs.
“Oh my God!” the girl exclaims, stepping out and practically tripping over herself to apologize. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t expecting anyone on the other side because, well…there’s never anyone on the other side.” Her expression quickly morphs into suspicion. “Wait. Who are you? And what are you doing here?”
Before I can muster a reply—possibly something dumb like, Would you believe I’m the new janitor?—Lexi’s voice cuts through like a lifeline.
“He’s here for me, Ginger. Delivering food for my overnight session.”
Ginger’s suspicion evaporates instantly. “Oh, cool. All right, Lex. Catch you later!” She turns to me, flashing a quick wave and smile. “Sorry again for the bump.”
A small part of my ego is wounded by the fact that she clearly doesn’t recognize me, despite my star quarterback status, but the vast majority is thankful. I guess most of the people who spend their lives in the lab—aside from those whose dads own professional teams—don’t know or care much about football. “No problem.”
As soon as Ginger disappears down the hall, I step inside, adopting Lexi’s lie with full commitment. “Lexi Winslow, is it? Your food delivery has arrived.”
“Shut up,” she scoffs, standing to greet me with a quick hug. It’s casual, sure, but it’s enough to short-circuit my brain for a solid three seconds. She smells faintly of flowers, fruit, and something sweet like honey—probably from yogurt and granola, her usual morning choice. I know this because I notice things about Lexi. Too many things.
When she pulls back, she smooths her shirt and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I watch the motion, captivated, but choose not to comment.
“Are you right in the middle of something? Or do you want to eat now? Either way is probably fine since I brought tacos, and they wrap them in forty-seven layers of foil. Time isn’t an issue. These babies could probably survive a nuclear fallout under all that aluminum.”
Her face lights up. “The ones from B Street Grill?”
“Yep.” I grin. “Good call?”
“Well, yes, but only if you got chicken,” she says, raising a brow.
“I got chicken, beef, steak, and shrimp. You can pick your favorite.”
She rubs her hands together and licks her lips, and it takes everything in me not to freak her out by leaning down for a casual kiss on the mouth. Sure, physically, we’re past a single, quick kiss, but mentally, I know Lexi still sees our arrangement as much more formal than that.
“Choices,” she says. “Always choices. I swear, you’re better than DoorDash.”
I laugh, loud and unrestrained, and her smirk tells me she’s satisfied with her joke’s success.
Poking at her stomach, I move her back toward her chair and set the bag of tacos on the desk beside her computer. “I don’t think DoorDash has orgasms on the menu.”