Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
That makes Jill laugh. “That would be annoying.”
“It’s not that he’s so irresistible and amazing that I want to date him, but he’s…” I shrug, following her out of the room so I can grab the school bag with my laptop in it. “Different.”
“I get it. I don’t remember seeing him when I was with Charlie, but I remember him saying he had a roommate that didn’t drink much or go out a lot. Must have been him.”
“Sounds like him.”
Jill takes a bite of her apple. “What does he look like?”
“He’s tall, he’s dark. He’s…” Motion catches my eye and I turn my head.
Speak of the devil, I can see him from a distance, walking from the direction of campus, down the sidewalk with a backpack strapped to his shoulders.
“There.” I lean forward so I can look at him through the window with no doubt in my mind that it’s him.
Jill glances out the front window. “Let’s go!” she shouts. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go! Let’s get out there so you can say hi.”
I squeal excitedly, grabbing my bag, a banana, and the paperback romance novel I’ve been trying to get through before rushing out the door after, neither of us bothering to lock up the house.
“We’re probably going to get robbed while we’re at class because we left the house unlocked,” I grumble to her once we’re on the walkway, Brodie still a slight figure down the block.
“He is a big dude,” Jill says beside me, still chomping on her apple.
I nod, holding the paperback and banana in my hands, book bag clinging to the crook in my elbow. We left the house so abruptly I didn’t have time to get my shit together or get organized.
Am I even wearing matching shoes?
“Why hasn’t he looked up yet?” she mutters. “He hasn’t seen you.”
No, he hasn’t seen me.
He’s walking with his head down, but he’s not on his phone. The guy is actually holding a paperback, the spine folded as he walks and reads.
“He’s reading,” Jill breathes. “Remarkable.”
That makes me laugh and I nudge her. “What’s so remarkable about it?”
“I don’t know. Don’t you think there’s something sexy about a guy who’s reading in the wild? Look at his hands gripping the book.”
I look at his hands as they grip the book, his silhouette getting closer and closer and closer, and it’s then that he notices he’s not alone, probably Jill’s laugh interrupting his thoughts.
He’s twenty feet away.
Fifteen.
Twelve.
Brodie only glances away for one split second, and it’s that amount of time that my roommate smacks the books, banana, and my bag out of my hands, sending them sprawling to the ground.
Worse?
She doesn’t stop when he halts on the sidewalk, immediately bending to pick up my things, but she sure as hell turns around, hip thrusting the air, pelvis pumping, and does the running man before taking off toward campus.
That.
Little.
Genius.
She’s a freaking genius is what she is!
Remind me to kiss her on the face later.
“I’m so clumsy,” I stutter, bending at the knees, reaching for the few things he hasn’t gathered up yet, which is just my sunglasses.
I swear my hands are shaking.
“Are you okay?” Brodie has an armful of my things and he stands, stacking everything neatly, book, banana. Bag.
“For sure. I’m totally fine. I just…tripped.”
Seriously.
Jill is brilliant.
Brodie and I are still squatting in the center of the sidewalk, his hands and my hands on my paperback and banana. He hasn’t handed it over to me yet, and I haven’t grabbed it, our faces a few inches from each other.
I study his face, having never been this close.
Scar above his eyebrow.
Scar on the bridge of his nose.
Hazel eyes that are more green but also muddy.
Dark lashes.
Bushy brows, he could probably use tweezers to pluck some of those errant hairs.
His lips are full, a fresh gash has only begun healing. I wonder when he got it because it wasn’t there the other night.
He’s shaved.
Slight cleft in his chin.
Birthmark at the corner of his right eye.
He has an interesting face—
“So yeah,” he says before he stands, and I follow suit, letting him tower over me briefly, enjoying the differences in our stature.
Broody Brodie.
Always frowning at something.
My eyes trail downward to the front of his gray sweatpants because they cannot help themselves and besides, it’s LAW that when a guy wears pants such as this, one must look to see if they can see…
Stuff.
And I can.
The outline of the head is visible. Not in an obscene, John Hamm kind of visible but a respectable dick stamp, nestled inside his soft, gray fabric.
The threadbare navy tee shirt he’s wearing pulls across his chest, straining from his well-defined muscles beneath. It looks as soft as his pants, and I want to reach out and give it a feel to see if it actually is.
My mouth waters ever so slightly.