Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I snort out a laugh.
Yeah, right.
But still…this is amazing news. For the first time in my life, something is actually working out better than I expected it to. How often does that happen?
“I’m really appreciative of your help. I wasn’t sure how expensive it would be, and I can’t let you pay for it all yourself. So, I already picked up extra shifts at the restaurant.” The vise grip squeezing my chest loosens just a bit as I rake my teeth across my lower lip before admitting, “I don’t know what I would have done if it had been more.”
Probably forgone the repair. I would have been stuck sharing a car with Mom. For this week, the situation works out. She’s been looking for a job and I’m hoping something will come through soon. I can’t be the only one contributing to the bills that continue to mount.
“We already agreed that I’d cover the cost and you would tutor me. It’s just a couple hundred.” He gives me a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you work it off.”
I blow out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”
“No worries,” he says easily, tugging me closer.
That comment is so laughable that I don’t dwell on our closeness or how good it feels. There has never been a time in my life when money wasn’t a source of concern, stress, and worry. There are nights when I lie awake, unable to sleep, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, wondering how everything that’s due at the end of the month will get paid on time. Or at all.
Unless you’ve lived with that kind of fear and anxiety, you have no idea how mentally draining it can be. It’s obvious from Asher’s blithe attitude on the matter, along with the ridiculously expensive truck he drives—because yeah, I looked it up online—that finances aren’t a concern.
And you know what?
That’s great for him.
It’s just not where I’m at in life. Hopefully, I’ll get there one day. That’s the end goal. It’s the reason I bust my ass and am constantly hustling.
“I was hoping we could get together tonight,” he says, drawing my attention back to him.
It takes a second to refocus my thoughts on our conversation. “What time were you thinking?”
“After practice. Probably around seven. Does that work for you?”
I nod. Today, my classes end at four. I can grab something to eat and concentrate on my own coursework for a couple hours. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Perfect. We can head to my house or the library.”
“Library,” I say quickly.
Definitely the library.
The moment he removes his arm from my shoulders, a sense of loss fills me. I didn’t realize how much I was enjoying his masculine presence until it disappeared. With a wave, he takes off. I lift my hand to return the gesture and watch as he strides confidently through the sea of students.
People make room, clapping him on the back and calling out his name in greeting. Not that I pay the slightest bit of attention to the gossip that swirls through campus, but if everything I hear is true, he’ll get drafted to the NFL this spring. A group of girls surrounds him as they continue to walk. With every step he takes, he picks up more adoring fans.
Thank god I feel absolutely nothing where Asher Stevens is concerned.
Can you imagine if I did?
A shudder of horror slides through me.
Maybe he’s turning out to be different from the meathead jock I initially pegged him as, but he’s still a major player.
And that, I don’t have time for.
12
ASHER
As soon as practice wraps up, I hustle to the library. Coach kept us over when a few players half-assed it on the field. What a bunch of dickheads. Afterward, the guys were planning to grab something to eat. Most gave me a look of disbelief when I declined the offer, telling them I was headed over to the library instead. Crosby actually laid his palm across my forehead and asked if I was sick or something.
With a roll of my eyes, I knocked his hand away.
What I failed to mention was the person I was meeting.
It’s none of their damn business.
Once inside the sprawling brick building, I take the stairs two at a time, anxious to reach the third floor. As soon as I crest the landing, my gaze coasts over the tables scattered across the vast space until it lands on Lola.
Earlier this morning, her dark hair had been left all long and loose around her shoulders. Now, it’s pulled up into a messy bun at the top of her head, allowing me to glimpse the long line of her neck. Her gaze stays pinned to the book in front of her as she fidgets with a pen before bringing it to her mouth. A punch of arousal hits me in the gut, imagining something much thicker nudging her pouty lips.