Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I smile, and it’s a strange thing…smiling while texting with Lucas. It’s strange to be texting with him at all.
Me: Why are you awake? It’s late.
I have an excuse. I just got back from a football game. He could be tucked into bed right now.
Lucas: I’m drunk, and I suck at sleep.
Me: Same.
It takes me a moment to realize I admitted that to him, that I told him I struggle to sleep, because it feels like letting him in on the chaos inside my head.
Lucas: You really shouldn’t drink so much.
I chuckle, the sound echoing in my empty bedroom, which is fucking ridiculous.
Me: I meant the sleeping thing.
Lucas: Oh. My bad. I’m glad to hear you’re not secretly getting drunk.
I roll my eyes. He knows exactly what I meant.
Me: Are you?
Lucas: It’s not a secret.
I frown, his words making me shift uncomfortably.
Lucas: I don’t have an alcohol problem. Stop worrying.
My frown deepens for a different reason now, one that makes my brain short-circuit. How in the hell did Lucas know I was worrying and not taking this all as a big joke?
Me: I wasn’t.
Lucas: Okay.
Me: I’m serious.
Lucas: Should we stay up all night again?
I roll onto my side, holding the phone in front of me. I have no business staying up all night. I should be trying to sleep. Coach is always on our asses about getting the proper amount of rest—Ellis and Coach Blake would be too.
Me: Aren’t you going to tell me I should get some rest?
Lucas: Do you want me to tell you that? Oooh, is that your thing? Do you secretly like being told what to do? I never would have seen you as subby.
Jesus Christ, what is wrong with this man?
Me: What? No.
Lucas: I’m joking. If you want to get some sleep, you should. I guess I just figure you’re an adult who can make his own decisions.
His words shouldn’t make me feel some kinda way, but they do. I am an adult. I’ve been taking care of myself most of my life. Not that I didn’t always have my mom, but we lived the kind of life where I had to learn to be responsible for myself at a young age.
Me: I really should try and get some shut-eye.
Otherwise, I’ll feel like shit tomorrow, and if Coach doesn’t notice and pull me aside during the team meeting, Oakley will. Plus, why would I stay up texting with Lucas? It’s weird and not something we should continue.
Lucas: Fine. I guess I’ll try too. Sweet dreams, Hunter King.
I look at the message for a moment as though some hidden meaning will reveal itself, which makes no fucking sense.
Me: Sweet dreams, Lucas.
I leave off his last name, as if that changes who he is.
Me: Thank you for not bringing up the game.
Because somehow, I know he did that on purpose.
The only response I get is the photo of the sunset. It looks like it was taken from Runyon Canyon, with a panoramic view of the city. The sun looks huge as it dips behind the horizon, the sky painted orange and yellow.
He’s right. It really is beautiful.
I heart the photo, then save it to my camera roll, set my phone on the nightstand, and try to sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lucas
I don’t know why Hunter has to go everywhere with us. Actually, I do know why. He’s the son my father wishes he had, and Ellis Blake always gets what he wants one way or another.
Both Ellis Blakes, I guess.
Because here we are, driving to a cabin in the mountains for our family vacation, and Hunter is here with us like always. If I’d asked to take a friend, my father would have told me no. That it’s different with Hunter because Hunter is family. In other words, Hunter loves football and is good at it, so that’s all that matters.
I’m in the third row, he and Ellis in front of me. They’re laughing and talking about something. I can’t hear the words because my earbuds are in, but Ellis says something that makes Hunter smile—big and wide, showing his white teeth, the bottom row slightly crooked. My stomach does this weird fluttery thing, like there are wings flapping there and tickling my insides.
I look away quickly, as though they’ll be able to tell. Like if they take one look at me, they’ll know that despite pretending to hate my brother’s best friend—and maybe I even do—that my heart beats faster around him. That he makes my pulse race and my palms sweat. I don’t care that I feel this way about boys, but I care that I feel this way about him. That I always have.
Hunter glances my way, and I immediately turn my head, not wanting to get caught staring at him.
We’re almost there, so I look out the window and listen to music, refusing to let myself glance at Hunter again. I’ve noticed things have seemed a little different between him and Ellis lately—sitting closer, more touching, looks between them that say they’re sharing a secret. And I think I know what that secret is because of course Ellis would get Hunter that way. That somehow they’ll be together, and my father won’t care because Hunter can play football, and it won’t matter there either because Hunter is that good.