Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Pen frowns from across the table. “As an athlete, you should eat better.”
I dab a bunch of fries in ketchup. “It’s nice that you worry about my health.”
“Somebody should.”
“See?” I smile and shove the fries in my mouth. “It’s like we’re already a married couple.”
“Then I feel safe in telling you not to talk while eating.”
I salute her with my burger before taking a big bite. Pen uses the moment to steal a couple of fries. Duly chastised, I finish my mouthful before speaking.
“You’re telling me to eat better yet here you are snarfing my fries.”
“Well, I’m not an athlete so . . .” She shrugs and takes a long pull of her shake. The cheeky smile has me laughing again. I might know a lot about Pen, the girl from my youth, but the way she effortlessly makes me laugh is a surprise. A nice one. Tenderness squeezes low in my chest as I look at her.
It’s probably a good shot: me and Pen grinning at each other from across a table. The sunlight shining on Pen’s hair, catching the glints of copper and gold among the nut brown. Part of me would love to see it. But that’s not what goes through my mind when I notice the young woman pointing her phone our way. I’ve been the subject of sneak shots long enough to instinctively know when someone’s taking a picture of me.
I’m used to the invasion of privacy. Pen isn’t. My mood plummets as my back stiffens. I want to yank down the umbrella fluttering overhead and use it as a shield between the two of us and the world. I want . . .
“Hey.” Pen’s hand settles over my clenched fist. Chocolate-brown eyes look at me with warmth and sympathy. “It’s okay.”
“You saw that too?” An icy rod has fused to my spine. “I’m sorry about—”
“August.” Another gentle squeeze. “You wanted to have a public relationship with me. I guess it starts here.”
My mouth opens to argue, to tell her that I don’t want our relationship public, that it’s nobody’s business but ours. Then I catch myself. What the hell am I thinking? This is exactly what I asked of her.
Swallowing past a lump in my throat, I nod shortly. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
But the ease in our conversation has died. We’re both too aware of our surroundings as we finish up our meal and toss the trash. Pen takes the shake with her and sips at it as we walk down the pier.
“You want to go for a ride on anything?” My question is subdued, even though I’m earnest in the offer; I’ll take her anywhere she wants to go.
“Maybe another time.” She sidesteps a stroller. “How about we go back on the beach path?”
“I’m down for that.”
Once on the beach, I walk a bit easier. We’re more exposed but, for once, that feels like a boon. I can see everyone around me.
Pen sips her shake and focuses on the ocean. “How long do you expect our engagement to last?”
“For the season should do it. Football gods willing, that would be until February and the Super Bowl. Otherwise, in January.” I roll my stiff shoulders. “Attention on us will drop dramatically after that, and we can orchestrate a quiet breakup announcement in the spring.”
“Seems reasonable. It will be my final semester of college.” She squints as a gust of wind blows past. “But I’m basically coasting along at this point. Everything dire has already been done.”
“What’s your class schedule?” I ask.
Pen spots a trash bin and tosses the empty cup. “Class starts next Thursday on the twenty-fifth. I’m in class Mondays through Thursdays, but only until around three in the afternoon.”
“You up for a couple of dates when I’m free during the week, and attending home game days?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t expect you at my beck and call or anything. It’s more that my schedule is pretty full with training, practice, and games. Wash, rinse, repeat.”
She touches my hand. “August, it’s fine. This is what you asked of me.”
“Yeah.” I’m already regretting it. But I push it aside. Focus on the ultimate goal. It’s what I do best. “I talked to the guy who did the settlement on my house. Sean says he can set you up with a payment schedule so you don’t have to pay the taxes in lump sums.”
At this, Pen halts and blinks up at me. “You did?”
“I said I’d help.”
“I know . . . it’s just . . . thank you, August.”
“Don’t thank me just yet. It’s still a lot of money each month.” I peer down at her. “Do you have a job right now?”
Her cheeks pinken, and she nibbles on her bottom lip. “There was enough in the trust for me to set up a rental-living expense account. I could have used it for the taxes, but it wouldn’t have been enough, and I figured, double up on classes, focus on graduating so I can devote all my time to earning would be a good thing.”