Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“Very thorough, Mr. Maloney. I would suggest a bit of editing. You’re citing the sport as an example, not as a main subject.”
True. I didn’t need Jett to explain an odd-man rush or what offsides meant. Those terms had no bearing on my work whatsoever. But gosh, I wasn’t ready to let go.
No need to chastise me. I was well aware of how ridiculous that sounded, and equally aware that these sessions couldn’t continue indefinitely. Honestly, it wasn’t healthy for me. In the past week alone, I’d spent more time with Jett than Layla or any of my colleagues. And when we weren’t together, we texted…a lot.
Sometimes we discussed sci-fi movies and TV programs. We both loved stories set in space and had a running commentary over which version of Star Trek was the best, most believable, or had the coolest aliens.
Other times, it was a stream of random gibberish. Our current text thread was a perfect example.
Jett: Do you think there are other life forms in the universe?
Me: Yes
You don’t need a second to think about it?
The universe is unimaginably vast. It’s unlikely that we’re the lone intelligent species, I replied.
Humans are dumbasses. I read a story about a couple who won the lottery and built a mansion with 18 bathrooms, tubs and bidets made of Italian marble.
Greedy. I’m only putting nine bathrooms in my mansion.
One laughing emoji. Pink marble?
Of course.
Twenty laughing emojis.
I grinned at my cell, jumping to attention as Layla cleared her throat. “Oh. Hello. I didn’t know you were home.”
“Mmhm. Let me guess…the hockey hero?”
“Uh, yes. Just checking the ol’ calendar.” I set my phone face-down on the coffee table and joined Layla in the kitchen. “He has a busy schedule, you know.”
“I bet.” She held up the electric kettle. “What about you?”
“Tea, please.”
“I meant…don’t you have a busy schedule, too?”
“Oh.” I arranged mugs for us, then leaned against the counter, idly watching my friend tear open a packet of cocoa. “Yes, I’m busy.”
“And?”
“And…” I scrunched my nose and bit my bottom lip, continuing in a rush, “And my experiment is complete, but I don’t want to stop because infatuation has me by its steely claws. I know that’s not a good reason to string this along. I know I should thank him and cut ties. I will. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Layla poured hot water and handed me the mug. “That’s probably for the best.”
My heart sank. “Yes, of course. Do you think he knows I…like him?”
“Yeah, but so what? He likes you too.” She blew into her mug, eyeing me over the rim. “But he’s straight, Mal. He dates women. He fucks around too. I have a class with Tara Berman, who says he led her on and another girl who claims Tara is bitter ’cause she saw Jett and her making out at a party and—whatever. He’s a nice guy, but…”
“He’s a lothario,” I finished.
“A straight one.”
I sighed, nodded, and immediately changed the subject.
She was right. Well, not the lothario part. Jett wasn’t the type to string anyone along. He was honest and forthright and—
Say no more.
It was time to end my hockey experiment.
I waited outside the rink, half-hidden in the shadow of a giant elm. Not that I was hiding. I wasn’t. Jett’s teammates and coach knew he was aiding my experiment, and no one had seemed to mind my occasional presence. In fact, they’d pretty much ignored me. I was used to that. As a scientist, I was a consummate observer of my surroundings…a fly on the wall in plain sight.
And if this was my last occasion to use the “experiment” excuse, I planned to milk it for all it was worth.
Unfortunately, my lecture had run late, so there’d be no final ogling while he practiced today. Jett wasn’t expecting me anyway, and that was fine. I was here to leave a message—quickly and unobtrusively.
His teammates passed me in groups of threes and fours on their way out of the main exit. No sign of Jett.
Another batch of hockey players exited the building, followed by two coaches.
Where the heck was he?
Five minutes later, I gave up and slipped inside the rink—and immediately ran into a wall of man.
Jett lifted his brows. “What are you doing here, Maloney? It’s Thursday.”
I took a moment to appreciate his broad silhouette as he fished sunglasses from his pocket. He wore a sleek leather jacket, jeans that hugged his thighs, and he carried a huge duffel slung over his shoulder with an air of casual strength and masculinity. Geesh, he was dreamy and—
Ugh, snap out of it.
“Yes, um…Thursday. That’s right, but I had some free time and I wanted to talk to you about—” I narrowed my gaze and leaned in. “The light is terrible in here, but you look pale. Are you all right?”
He pushed his glasses on in the dark lobby and shook his head. “I’m fine.”