Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“I am a woman,” Summer continues. Her fingers tighten over the top of the towel to keep it in place. “I’m a woman living with three men, and I have a right to privacy. I have a right to take a fucking shower without you barging in and pulling your dick out!”
“You didn’t even see my dick,” he argues.
“That’s not the point!” She throws her arms up in frustration.
And just like that, the towel drops.
Oh sweet mother of Moses.
I catch one glimpse of full, creamy tits with pale pink nipples. One incredible, tantalizing glimpse, before Summer slaps a hand and forearm across her chest. She manages to catch the towel before it falls, using her other hand to hold it over her lower body.
Hollis looks stunned.
Hunter’s eyes are on fire.
Me, I’m doing everything in my power not to look at her. I focus my gaze on a random spot above her head and speak in a surprisingly steady voice. “It won’t happen again, Summer. Right, Hollis?”
“Right,” he assures her.
I nod in approval. “First thing we’ll do is get the lock fixed—”
“Why are you talking to the ceiling?” she demands.
Swallowing a groan, I force myself to meet her eyes. Those big green depths reflect nothing but unhappiness and embarrassment back at me. She might be a drama queen, but she’s right. She’s living with three dudes and she deserves her privacy.
“This is the worst bathroom ever,” she moans miserably. “There’s no counter space. The lighting is so terrible I can’t do my makeup. And now I can’t even be alone when I’m taking a shower?”
“Summer,” I say softly. She looks like she’s going to cry, so I slowly walk toward her.
Don’t touch her. Don’t touch her. Don’t touch her.
I touch her.
Just my fingertips on her shoulder, but the contact sends a hot shiver up my spine. “I’ll fix the lock. I promise.”
Her body relaxes as she exhales. “Thank you.”
She spins around and marches into the bathroom. The door slams in our faces. A moment later, the shower comes back on.
Hunter and I exchange a quick look before turning to frown at Hollis.
“What?” he says defensively
“Dude, you have two sisters,” Hunter accuses. “How do you not understand bathroom etiquette? Me and Fitz are only children and we know goddamn bathroom etiquette.”
“My sisters and I never shared a bathroom.” With an irritated huff, he stalks toward my room.
“Where are you going?” I demand.
“To use King Colin’s john.” He scowls at me. “Or would you rather I piss downstairs in the sink?”
I quickly hold my arms out in a welcoming gesture. “It’s all yours, bro.”
2-D Animation is as fun as I expected it to be. Afterward, I leave the computer lab with my two buddies, Kenji and Ray. Since they’re major gamers, they were at the top of my list for beta testers, and they can’t stop talking about Legion 48 as we head outside.
“It’s brilliant, Fitz,” Kenji is saying as he zips up his parka.
I pull a black wool hat over my head and shove my hands into a pair of gloves. I feel like January is never going to end. I swear it’s like the planet goes into some fucked-up time loop every year to make January a hundred days long. And then the loop snaps apart and the rest of the year flies by in about four minutes.
“Brilliant,” Ray echoes.
We push open the exit doors and are greeted by a gust of icy wind. Frickin’ January.
Despite the cold, I can’t contain a burst of excitement. “You’re really not having any major issues so far?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Come on, there’s got to be something.”
We descend the wide steps toward the frost-covered sidewalk. The Fine Arts buildings are clustered together on the west side of campus, so almost all of my studios and lecture halls are located here.
“I’m telling you, there’s nothing,” Ray says.
“Nada,” Kenji agrees.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and frown at the words Private Caller.
Kenji and Ray are still engaged in an animated conversation about the game, so I signal that I’m out and they take off walking.
“Please hold for Kamal Jain,” a brisk female voice snaps in my ear.
I freeze for a beat, then give a hasty laugh. “Right. Nice try—”
But she’s already clicked off.
This has to be a joke. Yes, I did apply for a position at Orcus Games, the billion-dollar game studio owned by legendary geek-god Kamal Jain. But if this woman actually works for Orcus, I highly doubt she’d be transferring me to the founder and president of the company. That’s like Mark Zuckerberg taking customer services calls at Facebook.
I’m half a second from hanging up when a new voice fills the line.
“Colin, hi! Kamal. So I’m sitting here looking at your résumé. Gonna be honest with you, Colin—you were a no for me.”
My pulse quickens. Either I’m hallucinating, or that’s seriously Kamal Jain on the line. I’ve seen hundreds of interviews with the guy, and I’d recognize his fast-paced, nasally voice anywhere.