Series: Torn and Bound Duet Series by K. Webster
Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Just make sure you don’t leave your drink unattended.”
“Ashton…”
“I’m kidding,” he says. “Now, can you please feed me? If I get any skinnier, I’m going to wither away.”
“I can’t,” I tell him, standing. “Brayden and I are going on a date.”
His head shoots up. “Now?”
“Yeah, now. Looks like you’ll have to get your own food today.”
I stalk out of his room and through the apartment. I knew what his answer would be before I came over, but it still hurts. It’s my fault, though, for falling for a guy I knew wasn’t available. And now it’s time to move forward. Ashton and I are best friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.
When I get back to my place, I snatch my phone up and text out a reply to Brayden.
Me: I’ll be ready in an hour.
Then I jump into the shower to get ready for my date.
An hour later, as I’m double-checking my appearance in the mirror, there’s a knock on my door. I kept it casual, in a cream-colored V-neck sweater and a pair of black skinny jeans that have rips going down both legs. I’m wearing my cute UGGs and my hair is in a loose ponytail. My face is natural, with only a hint of mascara and lip gloss. I’m also wearing my contacts today instead of my glasses.
The doorbell goes off, and I scoop up my phone, pushing it into my back pocket, and head out to answer the door.
When I open it, Brayden is standing on the other side holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hand with a sports looking bag flung over his shoulder. He’s wearing a white long-sleeved Ice Hawk’s shirt and a matching hat, a pair of dark-wash jeans that are slightly snug along his muscular thighs, and white tennis shoes.
“Well, don’t you clean up nice.”
Brayden laughs. “These are for you.” He holds out the bouquet for me to take, as I open the door, so he can come inside.
“Thank you, they’re so pretty.” I bring the flowers up to my nose to smell them.
“You’re welcome.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. “You look beautiful.”
Butterflies swarm in my belly, and I take that as a good sign. I might have feelings for Ashton, and have a little crush on Drew, but I’m also very much attracted to Brayden. And unlike the other two, he’s available and wants me back.
I set the flowers on the table and grab my keys. “Ready?”
“Absolutely.”
I assumed when Brayden asked me out, he meant going somewhere off campus, so I’m confused when, instead of heading out to the parking lot, he takes my hand in his and steers us toward campus.
“Tell me something about yourself,” he says as we walk down the sidewalk.
“Like what my favorite food is, or about how I moved here to escape my shitty family?” I ask, unsure how deep he wants to go.
Brayden laughs, and the melodic sound hits me in the chest and slides down, landing between my thighs. I’ve noticed the few times I’ve been around him, he doesn’t laugh often, but when he does, it’s beautiful. His entire face softens, making him look younger, more carefree.
“My motto is usually go big or go home,” he says, “but I’m determined to make this date perfect, so, let’s go with your favorite food. If you get upset and cry, you might ask to end the date early… And I haven’t had enough time to charm you into that kiss yet.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. He really is a damn charmer.
“So, food?” he prompts.
“Pineapple pizza. Yours?”
“My mom’s lasagna. Favorite band?”
“Hmm… that’s a hard one. I’m going to go with Eminem circa two thousand. You?”
Brayden laughs. “I would have to say the same.”
“It’s a shame we weren’t alive back then. I bet he was amazing live.”
“Speak for yourself,” Brayden scoffs. “I was alive.”
“Whatever, you were like two.”
“True. Umm… favorite video game.”
“That’s easy. Super Mario World. Duh. My turn: favorite… sport.”
Brayden snorts. “Really? Hockey, of course. Is there any other sport?”
“Well, you could play it but like others…”
“I love it,” he admits. “Hockey is my life. My mom swears I could skate before I could walk.”
“I believe it. You kicked ass out there last night. I was impressed.”
“Thanks,” he says. “Umm… favorite color.”
“Pink,” I tell him before I can think too hard. Well, it was before Mom ruined that color for me.
“Really?” He eyes me. “I can’t really imagine you wearing pink.”
I glance down at my clothes. Today, my outfit is probably considered dressed up compared to how I usually dress in my gamer shirts and baggy pants and overalls.
But I didn’t always dress like this… When I was little my mom would dress me up in frilly pink dresses and pink ribbons like I was a beautiful doll. I felt girly and pretty, and she would tell me so. At one point, I wouldn’t even leave the house unless I was wearing one, knowing she would coo over me in them. But then one day, when I was wearing my pretty pink dress, she told me I looked fat and insisted I change. And from that day forward, I never wore another pink dress. But it didn’t really matter what color I wore, because for the next several years, nothing was good enough. I was too fat, my hips too wide, my breasts too big. And with every put-down, my style changed to hide my imperfect body.