Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“Right.” Mom rolls her eyes at me. “If you say so. Now, John needs to find a decent girl, and my boys will be all set.”
“We’re just friends,” Bex chimes. “I only met Preston a few days ago. We barely know each other.”
“But you must be special, or you wouldn’t be here.”
Bex’s mouth snaps shut, her expression stoic.
“Mom, would you stop freaking Bex out, please? This is kind of embarrassing.”
The buzzer sounds throughout the gymnasium giving Bex and me a reprieve from my mother’s comments.
“Duty calls. You can sit the first half out,” Mom says to me, and then turns her back to us to rally up the team.
“I thought Jameson coaches with your mom,” Bex says.
I cup her shoulder with my hand and steer her toward the bleaches. “He’s usually here by now. Something must have come up. It must be important because I know he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to join my mom in tag-teaming me until they embarrass the shit out of me.”
Bex drags her fingers down my forearm, the sudden contact too much for me to stand. “Don’t worry about it. My dad would do the same thing.”
“Not if it were me.”
She shakes her head. “Definitely not for you. He loves you like a son and thinks you’re the best player he’s ever coached, but he would not be as nice as your mom if we were dating.”
“Good thing we don’t have to worry about breaking his last rule.”
But I want to.
“Too bad you have trouble staying away from me,” she jokes, now acknowledging the final text I sent her on Thursday night.
Which reminds me…
“What happened to you the other night?” I flex my jaw, irritated by her dismissal. “You ghosted me.”
Her noses scrunches in confusion. “What are you talking about? I came to your game last night. I’m here now. Your definition of ghosting must be different from mine.”
“You never texted me back.”
“Aww, look at Parker getting all butt-hurt over a girl he doesn’t even like. A girl who’s supposed to be his friend.”
“Shut it, smart ass.” I shake my head, smiling. She rips them out of me whenever she’s around. It’s hard not to feel something with Bex. “You know what I mean. You never answered my text.”
Bex removes her phone from her gym bag. An awkward silence passes between us, the loud cheers around us filling the void as she scrolls through her messages.
“Oh,” she says, her eyes slowly raising to meet mine. “I didn’t think you expected a reply to your last message. But clearly, it’s important to you. I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“I like being around you,” I admit. “You’re nothing like the girls I know. It’s refreshing. Like I can be myself with you.”
She looks away from me, biting the inside of her cheek, her focus on the boys running down the court. “I like you, too. But I don’t see anything happening between us. Friends I can do… if you think you can handle being friends with a girl.”
Can I be her friend when all I can think about is ripping off her clothes? Not likely.
“I can try.” I lean into her side, pressing my lips to her earlobe. “If that’s what you want.”
She clears her throat, still watching the game play out before us. “Umm… yeah, that’s what I want.”
We’ll see about that.
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s changing girls’ minds. Bex will give in at some point. They always do.
“Okay,” I agree. “As you wish.”
Chapter Nine
BEX
I met my idol and didn’t pass out. Coach was everything I thought she would be and more. Her strong personality, the one I’d heard about online, shined through. When she hugged me, I almost died. Like I could have died at that exact moment and been truly happy. One of my bucket list goals came true all because of Preston.
But what I loved most was seeing her with Preston—as a mom. Preston and Coach are so cute together I was a little jealous. It made me miss not having a mother. It also made me wish I were part of their family—which is a major problem—because I shouldn’t want things I can’t have, and Preston is one of them.
“They made it,” Preston says, pointing at his teammate, Jamie, and a middle-aged man who could pass as his older twin. This must be Uncle Jameson. The resemblance is uncanny. The same short, brown hair, straight nose, high cheekbones, and long lashes that would make any girl jealous.
It’s the end of the third quarter when they stroll down the sidelines toward our bench. They stop in front of us, and Preston stands, towering over everyone, filling out every inch of the space around him.
“Before you start…” Preston says to Jameson, “… this is Bex. She’s my friend. Nothing more. So, don’t act all weird like Mom did. Okay?”