Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I should say no. I mean, first and foremost, I’m in my laundry day workout clothes and haven’t washed my hair in two days. But the real issue is, I have no business getting involved with him. Casey needs me. I’ve got my hands full with school. The last thing I should expend energy on is the incorrigible anti-social new guy.
Even if he is suspiciously gorgeous. And kind of funny.
And he does get good weed.
Not that I’m going to make that a habit.
Weirdly, the thing I find most interesting about RJ is that he doesn’t fawn all over me, tossing hollow compliments like bread for ducks. A part of me doubts he’s actually interested in a serious romantic entanglement. At this point it’s our inside joke. Our bizarre secret language. Half a dare, half suicide pact.
So I don’t reply and make my way back home. Just happens I have to pass the bench anyway.
“You run a lot, huh?” he says when I show up, and offers me a hit.
“That’s kind of the point, yeah.”
“It’s working for you.” He gives me an appreciative wink. The guy could flirt with a tree stump.
Taking a long drag, I sweep my gaze over him, wishing I didn’t enjoy the sight so much. But this is the first time I’m seeing him in his street clothes, and I really like it. His jeans are faded and worn in, with a rip at the knee that draws my attention to his long legs. A black T-shirt hugs his chest and shows off sculpted biceps I didn’t expect. His personality doesn’t give off guy-who-works-out vibes, but his body says otherwise.
“You like what you see?” RJ slants his head, sounding amused.
I blink, inwardly cursing myself for getting caught checking him out. Denying it will only make me appear weak, so I own the ogling.
“The view’s not bad,” I concede, passing the joint back.
“Well, look at that. Progress.” He chuckles softly, those hazel eyes flickering with heat. “What’s your favorite part of me?”
“Don’t push your luck, sweetie.”
He ignores that. “Arms, right? You look like the kind of girl who’s into arms. Either that, or my ass. You an arms girl or an ass girl, Sloane?”
I lift a brow. “Neither. I’m partial to the dick.”
His expression goes a little hazy. “Fuck,” he groans. “Why’d you have to say that?”
“What,” I say innocently, “you’re not confident about your dick game? Pity.”
RJ’s gaze transforms from hot to molten. “Sweetheart, my dick is always the most confident motherfucker in the room.”
As he raises the joint to his lips, I don’t miss the way his other hand does some strategic rearranging down below. This conversation is getting him hard.
Just like that, my throat runs dry. Damn it. I know I’m the one who opened this door, but now I’m really regretting it. I can’t sit next to RJ and his semi. It’s just going to make me want to reach over and touch him. To unzip his jeans and slip my hand inside and hear him moan when my fingers encounter his hot, male flesh.
My entire body begins to tingle, bringing a jolt of anxiety. Oh my God. How am I lusting this hard over this guy?
“I don’t see any black eyes or bloody knuckles,” I say, desperate to change the subject. “How’d it go with the boys last night?”
“Funny you should ask. I ran into your ex-boyfriend. Think he likes me.”
“I bet.”
“Tell me something,” he says, blowing embers off the end of the joint. “What is it with hot chicks and egomaniacal douchebags? Like, historically. What’s the biological imperative there?”
“So you two really hit it off, huh?” I’m not sure why I like that he isn’t a fan of Duke’s, but it puts the first genuine smile on my face I’ve had all day. It’s sort of cute in a petty way.
RJ watches me carefully. “You still into it?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “Not even a little.”
“Good. Then go out with me. There’s a Sleater-Kinney cover band playing a bar in town tonight. They probably suck, but—”
“Shut up. You know Sleater-Kinney?”
“Sure. They’re one of my favorite bands.”
I just gape at him. “You’re putting me on. Fenn or Silas told you to say that.”
RJ cocks his head at me. “Why?”
“Sleater-Kinney is seriously one of my favorite bands. I once basically stole my dad’s car and followed them across four states for like a week.”
He grins. “Really? That’s awesome. Most people I know have never heard of them,” he says. “Guess we have something in common after all.”
Perish the thought. Still, his taste in music does speak highly of his character.
“Come on. It’s one night.” RJ has persuasive eyes. They possess a hypnotic quality, both devious and dependable. “Have a drink and show me around town. Consider it a public service for the less fortunate.”