Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Welcome to college.
This is the experience adults want for us.
So awesome.
I can’t help but take in the wall of fame. Some of the greats, including Dawson Sinclair’s dad, Jayden, and his uncles, Jace and Jude. They are royalty around here, so it only makes sense why Dawson Sinclair is idolized.
The Bullies’ house is a cool place. Multiple floors, lots of rooms for the guys, and super modern. While it’s all sleek with white marble and slate gray walls, it also has a sense of home. Maybe it’s the cushions on the couches or all the photos of the team from year to year, but you can tell that the guys are taken care of. That they love where they live.
I head out to the courtyard behind the house as I pull out my phone. I see a few couples talking close, getting to know each other before they go find somewhere to get naked. They don’t pay me any attention as I sit down on a large beanbag with the Bellevue Bullies logo on it that is next to a huge fire pit.
I lean back, looking up at the stars as a smile moves across my face. The only reason I agreed to come tonight was because my interview to broadcast for the Bellevue Bullies’ girls’ hockey team was a success. I will call all the games next season, and I’m super stoked about it.
I should have gone to Cold Stone to celebrate instead, yet here I am. I tried not to be the boring person that the Graces claim I am, and I listened to my dad, who told me to come celebrate.
I open my text thread with him and hit the microphone.
“You told me to come, and I’m sitting alone because people my age suck.”
He messages right back. I hit play, and his deep voice makes me grin. “All people suck. You gotta find your people.”
“I don’t think they exist. Only you, Mom, and Tía.”
“They’re out there. Don’t worry. Try to have some fun. There are hockey players there. Find one and talk shop.”
“They’ll try to make out with me.”
“Thank you for ruining my night with that image.”
“You suggested it.”
“I said talk, not suck face.” I snort. “Though, you’re probably right, you’ll impress them with all your hockey knowledge and then, bam, they’ll fall in love and try to sleep with you. You let me know so I can kill them.”
I grin. “Of course, Dad. I’ll tell you about all the guys who hit on me.”
His voice is playful but stern. “Good. Have fun. I love you, Ro.”
I smile, my heart warming. “I love you too, Dad.”
“Be safe.”
“I am.”
I tuck my phone into my pocket as I lean back to look at the sky once more. I smile to myself at the thought of finding my people. I don’t know if they’re out there, and honestly, I’m sick of trying to make myself a space at all these damn tables where people look at me like I’m not good enough.
I am good enough.
“Less teeth. Girl, what are you doing? Stop trying to stop me. You said I could fuck your mouth.”
Laughter sputters out of me, and I look over at where the gruff voice came from. As bright as the moon, a pair of thick ass cheeks clenches as the owner of said ass cheeks makes a sound of distress. I look around in shock, finding that the other couples who are out here have wide eyes, and they quickly go inside.
I look back as the guy backs up, fixing his jeans. “I’m not getting the rhythm. Let’s make out,” the girl suggests.
No joke, the guy puts his hand on her head, stopping her forward motion, and says, “Chick, fuck no. I don’t kiss on the mouth, and you suck at sucking dick.”
Damn, I can’t help but flush with embarrassment for the girl.
That is, until she lets out a shrill, “Let me try again!”
I’d know that shrill cry anywhere.
The guy moves away just as Grace P. tries to stand, but she wobbles on her sky-high heels. Her mascara is in streaks down her face, along with her tears. Her mouth is swollen, her cheeks red, and I feel awful for her. I can tell she’s drunk, but also, she’s mortified. I don’t know why it surprises me that Dawson Sinclair is the guy fixing the front of his pants, but it does. I knew she was on a mission, and good for her to get what she wants, but damn, even I’m burned by his rejection.
What an asshole.
The whole situation is wild to me. It’s like when everything is so wrong and all you can do is laugh to ease all the tension. Which is why I let out a nervous giggle at the sight before me. Grace P.’s eyes whip to me, her jaw dropping a bit when she realizes I’m a witness to her lowest moment. I try to give her a reassuring smile, but then she glares with all the rage in her body.