Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
I glared at him. “I’ve spent the better part of the last eight years with someone whose brain was slowly going. If Damian knew, he didn’t remember to tell me.”
The slight smirk vanished.
Reese straightened up. “Sorry. That was an asshole comment.”
I waved it off. “It’s fine.” And I was back inside my car. I’d been in the process of spreading out a sleeping bag I’d grabbed from the lost-and-found. They were always laundered before going in there.
Reese moved around the car. The door across from me opened, and he grabbed the sleeping bag. “No way. You’re not sleeping in your goddamn car.”
“Stop cursing.” I yanked it out of his hands. “And I am!”
“Why? Fuck the rules. Just sleep in my cabin. I’ll stay in your cabin. I’m a man. I can handle it.”
I snorted. “I had to go in there earlier, and I could barely manage to grab the bag you packed. I almost vomited. You try to sleep in there and your coach will be really pissed, because you’ll be in the hospital. Trust me. Stay in your cabin. I can handle this. I might be sleeping in my car soon anyway, so I should start getting used to it.”
Oh, crap.
I hadn’t meant to say that.
He went still. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. I meant for the next three nights.” Was it three, or two? I did the math. Two. Everyone was leaving on the third day, or now the second day.
“You’re lying. Again.” He reached inside, his arm span putting mine to shame. He grabbed my bag, my phone, and my keys. Shutting his door, he came around, hip-checked me out of the way, and shut my door. “Let’s go.” He locked my doors.
When I didn’t start moving, he began guiding me forward. With his legs. His hips.
Good God.
He was muscled. It was surprising for how lean he was, but he was six-three and all muscle.
“How many miles do you ball players run in a game?”
We were moving past the cars.
He stepped to my side, my bag slung over his shoulder. “Is that one of your questions?”
“No. I’m actually curious.”
He shrugged. “Maybe two miles? It’s give or take per game.”
Two miles per game? “How many games do you play per season?”
He grinned down at me. “We play eighty-two games per season. You want more stats?”
“Always.” Did he not know me?
“Forty-one at home, forty-one away. We have five games this preseason. Our last two are at home.”
We were walking behind the main lodge. There was no light to show us the way, but I knew it by heart. I didn’t have a flashlight and normally, I’d have the random island invaders in my head, or a deer running at night, or a skunk even, but it wasn’t happening now. Because of Reese.
He calmed me, and he was trusting me in return. We were halfway down the path, in complete darkness, before I realized the magnitude of what we were doing. I’d never walked a path in the middle of the night, with no moon shining through the trees, no flashlight, and not been freaked out.
I bit my lip. I wasn’t about to jinx myself now.
“What’ll your coach say?”
“I’ll deal with him.”
I started to look back, but yeah. No light. Total darkness. I could only see black where he was, so I veered close to him until our arms brushed. “Are you going to get in trouble?”
He sighed. “Why are you pushing this?”
The answer was immediate. “Because I don’t want to be a burden.”
He was quiet a second. “Why would you think you’re being a burden?”
I bit my lip again, mashing them together. I tasted blood.
His voice was low. “Who made you feel like a burden?”
I remained silent.
“Charlie.”
I had to grin at that. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”
“You serious?”
“Yeah. It’s nice.”
He let out a strangled sound. “I feel like a dumbass. Jesus. I was calling you a gnat. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged, but remembered he couldn’t see. “We were going with the theme. Remember, I was your stalker in the beginning.”
“Don’t start—”
“I was, Reese.” That quieted him. “Damian liked you first, you know. I’ve always liked basketball. My two brothers played. One was a big star in school, and we weren’t close, but I felt close to him then. I think that’s when I really started loving the game. He didn’t give me any attention—I was a gnat to him. I don’t think he meant it in a bad way, but older brothers get caught up in being cool, you know? Except for basketball. I mean, I had to act a certain way. I could only say a couple things to him during a game, like hand him a water or give him a towel, but it meant something to me. I did stats, and he was the team’s star on passing. That’s why I started following you. Your passes are phenomenal. No one can match you in the league, and your ball handling skills are unprecedented. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that before this—before you and I became friends—you were already more than just a basketball player to me. You connected me to a good memory from my brother, and the same with Damian. We’d watch your games together, and for some reason, he was always Damian during those times. I still had him. He’d slip away later on, but I always knew he was Damian for eighty-two games a year—the ones we could watch on television, I mean.”