Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Ouch. She can be catty when she’s angry, but since I’m loving a peek at another one of her many personality traits, I endeavor to keep her bitchiness high. “Right… cousins. I had the accent wrong. My bad.”
Her second winding isn’t as brutal as the first. It only forces the air out of one of my lungs instead of both. “I don’t have an accent.”
She does, and it is as cute as hell.
“And who are you to talk? You sound like a Columbus backpacker.” I follow her to her room, my analness for being on time forgotten. “And no one seems to know your real name.”
“It’s Cash,” I admit. “And the accent is because I was born in Canada, schooled in Australia until I was ten, then we moved to the US when I was thirteen.”
McKayla dumps her textbooks onto her desk before spinning to face me. Curiosity has overtaken the anger marring her striking face. “What happened during the years you missed?”
The tension only just evaporating can’t stop the honesty spilling from my lips. “A whole heap of shit no one likes to talk about.”
Most people would continue probing. They’d use my dislike of liars to their advantage. But not McKayla. She proves that knowledge will always rate higher to her than gossip. “Did your first kiss occur during those years?”
I tap my index finger on my lips like I don’t remember my first kiss before eventually shaking my head. “They weren’t my first, but they were memorable.”
“You kissed someone before you were ten?” Her question is shouted as loudly as my response to her confession.
“Yeah. Catch and kiss was the king of games at my primary school. All the kids played it.” The penny finally drops, smacking into me hard. “But you were homeschooled and lived next door to your cousins. Now everything makes sense.” She looks smug until I add, “But what’s your excuse for the past couple of months? College boys will kiss you without even knowing your name.”
“Because that’s something you regularly do?”
When I waggle my brows, she forces a gag, which doubles the grooves on the bridge of her petite nose.
With a wave of her hand, she requests for me to spin around so she can change. When I do, she replies, “I don’t want to be kissed by a random boy.”
When she doesn’t finalize her reply by saying she’s saving the honor for Gabriel Sutton, I crank my neck back to peer at her. I lucked out the other night when I removed her clothes without sneaking a peek. Her body is tight, compact, and curvy all at the same time. She has a tummy your head would be happy to rest on but toned legs capable of being held up for hours on end.
She just needs to improve on the marketing of her goods. She keeps them wrapped up as if they’re the bland, cheap brand instead of the pricy stock that will cost a man everything.
She could play every man on this campus for a fool, and the knowledge has me announcing that I’ll wait for her in the hallway.
Chapter 7
McKayla
The echoing stomps of our feet when we enter the gymnasium booms into my ears. It is so quiet, even my swallow to wet my dry throat with spit is audible.
“Where is everyone?”
Since we’re away from the prying eyes of the people milling outside the stadium, Cash releases my hand from his grip before moving for the first row of bleachers. “Everyone who needs to be here is.”
It takes me a moment to solve his riddle, but when I do, my brows pinch together. “You train alone?” After stripping out of his hoodie and tightening the laces on his shoes, he jerks up his chin. “Why? Basketball is a team sport. There’s no ‘I’ in team, Cash.”
He grins at my saying before fetching a basketball out of a wired crate at his left. “To some players, it’s about the fans and the glory. To others…” He stares at the hoop in the distance, the concentration on his face adding to the silence. I swear, not even my heart will beat since it doesn’t want to miss what he says next. “It is so much more than that.”
My mouth gapes when he bobs, lifts, then takes his shot.
It goes straight through the net, no backboard needed.
I remember why he is the king of all jocks when he mutters out a response to my shocked expression. “I knew you were frothing out of the mouth last week.”
“I wasn’t,” I reply with a giggle. “I didn’t see your shot, I swear.”
“Sure, sure,” he murmurs with waggling brows.
When he gestures for me to join him at the side of the court, I dump my backpack next to his sweater, then nervously approach him. I’ve never taken part in team events. For one, I’m a klutz, and two, I’m a head shorter than most people, let alone the giants who play basketball.