Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
But today, he’d been especially vocal.
I skated to the bench, wiping sweat from my brow.
“Good job,” Eli said, handing over a water bottle.
I thanked him, curbing the inclination to ask how on Earth he thought my near fall and splatter on the ice was a good thing. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I trusted Eli. I thought he was hot, and I wouldn’t have minded getting vertically acquainted with him…sans clothing—but the friendlier he was, the more I second-guessed his motives and his sweet pinky caresses.
According to Celine…and Gus, for that matter, I was wildly guilty of overthinking all things Eli.
This probably wasn’t a great time, but I was exhausted and mentally beat, and if I was going to get rejected, it might as well be now.
“Do you like hot wings and karaoke?” I asked out of the blue.
Eli shifted his gaze from the ice to me. “Um…I don’t like too much spice, and karaoke is embarrassing. Do you?”
“No to both.”
“O-kay.”
I supposed this was my cue to insert a leading question about his spice preferences and karaoke mishaps, but…I didn’t care enough to know. I had one objective here. All I wanted to know was…
“Do you want to go out or not?”
Oh, dear. Zero points for execution, zero points for landing.
I sucked water down like a dry sponge, eyes forward. He could reject me to my cheek if necessary.
“Friday?”
I braved a sideways glance, noting Eli’s amused twinkle and that adorable dimple. Gus had a dimple too. It was hidden under his scruff most of the time, but on mornings when he was freshly shaved, he looked very…attractive and—
No thinking about Gus. This was Eli.
“Yes. Seven o’clock?” I took another sip.
“Excellent. It’s a date.”
Gus wasn’t home. I’d forgotten that he had a game until Celine reminded me that Smithton was playing Trinity tonight and it was a big deal.
“It’s the playoffs, Rafe. The whole school will be there and that means you too,” my best friend informed me.
I wasn’t particularly interested in attending a hockey game, but I was edgy and anxious. Not a mood conducive to enjoying the solitude of a quiet house. I should have been excited that I’d worked up the nerve to ask Eli out. It felt more like I’d won a point in Gus’s ridiculous roommate game, and that just made me think about Gus in a not-so-terrible light.
Confusing.
Fine, maybe I’d judged him harshly. Gus was funny, big-hearted, and he’d been trying hard to keep his end of the deal. He hadn’t thrown any parties, the house wasn’t a mess, and my food hadn’t disappeared—if anything, there was two of everything in the fridge. He’d been around more too, which had alarmed me at first. However, he’d been perfectly congenial and oddly enough, Gus seemed to want my company.
He’d ask about my day, my off-season training routine, my gym habits, my classes. Nothing overly personal, but it was nice light repartee that went a long way toward mending broken fences.
And we’d been eating more meals together. Rotisserie chickens, salads, and pasta. I teased him for buying junk food, and he teased me for eating kale.
“It’s disgusting, Rafey. No one likes that shit for real. Not even self-respecting rabbits.”
So, I bought kale while Gus bought party-sized bags of potato chips, and we each pretended to be offended by the other’s choices.
Side observation: There was no booze in the house. None.
Maybe that wasn’t news, but I’d noticed, and yes…I was curious.
I suspected something was going on with Gus. Why else would he suddenly want to spend time with me? I doubted his shift in roommate etiquette was entirely due to penance for past wrongs. Not that I questioned his sincerity, but I wondered if there was more to it.
The problem with all this wondering was that it was leading me astray.
Tonight was a perfect example. Here I was at a hockey game, surrounded by Smithton fans screaming their lungs out in the third period of a tied nail-biter against Trinity, and my eyes were glued to the Bears’ captain, who happened to be on the bench, waiting for a line change.
Gus wasn’t having a great game. He seemed tired and out of sync. His acceleration speed was a beat behind everyone else’s, lacking explosiveness and hindering his ability to elude the defense. I observed him closely for signs that he was ill or injured. Gus seemed healthy, though.
I tore my gaze toward the action as the announcer howled, “Goal, Bears!”
The arena erupted. The Bears circled Ty, tapping sticks and chanting his name.
Gus cheered from the sideline. His goofy grin took over his face the way it always did. If he was bummed that he hadn’t been part of the action, he didn’t show it. He just smiled and looked…
Okay…fine! He looked good. Sexy, even.
The sweat damp hair, scruffy jaw, mischievous smirk, muscles galore, and—