Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
That was almost worse.
Because my father gave me his trust even when I didn’t deserve it, and the truth was, I had no idea what I was doing.
All I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to do anything Mom had pictured for me. I didn’t want to go to college, or be in a sorority, or marry the first guy with a promising career path who came from good money. I didn’t want the house and the yard and the two-and-a-half kids.
Still, I didn’t necessarily want to be rooming with three smelly football players because I could barely afford gas in my car and a can of tomato soup, either.
I sighed, closing my eyes.
Temporary, I reminded myself. This is all temporary.
Then, deciding I was technically an adult and my parents didn’t need to know everything, I peeled myself off the mattress and got to work.
Leo
“Behind, behind,” I yelled into my headset, and then I was getting lit up. “Mierda!” I turned my Legend around to fight back, thumbs pressing wildly on my controller. My screen was continually flashing red, the sound of gunfire popping off in my headphones.
I stuck my tongue out of the corner of my mouth in concentration, ignoring my character’s depleting health until I hit the ground.
“Bleeding out,” I called as I put up my shield, cursing when I saw how close I was to being eliminated. “Fuck. I’m knocked, but he’s one shot!”
My teammate, BlueChip206 also known as Warren from Florida, got to me a second too late, but the fucker who had taken me out was still there.
“One shot, one shot!” I repeated, watching the scene unfold and powerless to help with my guy laid out on the ground. Once Warren took him out, he could revive me.
Except Warren was firing at him and he still didn’t die.
Then, Warren got knocked, too.
The game ended, and I sucked my teeth, scrubbing my hands through my hair.
“He was not one shot, dude,” Warren said with a huff.
I laughed a little at that.
“Alright, man, I’m getting off,” he added a moment later.
“See ya,” I replied, and then I checked the time on my phone. It was late, but I felt restless tonight. Always did in the summer. In the fall, I knew exactly who I was, what my purpose was, where to be and what to be doing. Summer made me feel a little aimless, like I was stuck in some sort of limbo waiting for my life to start again.
Everything had centered around football for me for so long, I didn’t know what to do without it.
So, I prepped for one last game of Apex Legends. Might as well enjoy the late nights before early practices started.
A notification popped up assigning me my new teammate, and I was scrolling through the Legends deciding which one I wanted to play with next when I saw the username.
It made my stomach drop, my eyes scanning it beginning to end.
Octosquid68.
The breath that had hitched in my throat slowly deflated, my heart still racing even as I stared at the name and realized it wasn’t what I thought. I didn’t know why I even thought it would be. I hadn’t seen that name on my screen in years.
Still, anytime I saw one that even resembled hers, it stopped me in my tracks.
A flash of something crossing the living room caught my attention, and I turned just in time to see long blonde waves of hair disappearing into the kitchen. I looked at the screen, then back at where Mary was visible through the little cutout window in the wall between the dining area and kitchen, and ultimately shut off the console with my heartbeat still a little unsteady.
Checking on our new roommate sounded like more fun, anyway.
I made my way to the archway that separated the rooms, the old house showing its age with the lack of open-space concept. I leaned against the frame, watching as Mary unloaded the small cooler we’d filled with what little she had in her fridge across the street.
I knew I needed to announce my presence, but I couldn’t help but take a moment to just appreciate the view. I hadn’t known Mary well over the last year of her being our neighbor across the street — not for lack of trying, but more because she made it very clear she wanted nothing to do with me or anyone else on the team. Still, I’d hung out with her enough to know she was always dolled up — dresses, boots, tattoos on display, and makeup like a movie star. Not like Julia Roberts movie star, but like Olivia Wilde. A little dark, a little edgy.
Always hot as hell.
But right now, she wore impossibly tight black leggings that hugged every curve of her hips and ass, and she was bent over, offering it all on a silver platter as she unloaded condiments from the cooler into the fridge.