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)
“Classy,” Summer says.
He leers wolfishly. “You play your cards right, that tongue could be yours.”
Her response is to throw her head back and laugh.
Luckily, Hollis has an ego made of Kevlar. He shrugs and wanders off, which spurs most of the other guys to scatter. Pierre, our resident French-Canadian, and Matt Anderson, a junior defenseman, head for the bar. Only Garrett and Hannah remain. And Hunter, who’s got a beer in one hand and his phone in the other. He’s taking a video of the crowd for his Snapchat story.
“How about you?” Summer asks Hunter. “I saw you dancing with seven different girls tonight. Which one are you going to kiss?”
“None of them.” He lowers the phone, his blue eyes dead serious. “I don’t do New Year’s kisses. Chicks always try to find meaning in them that isn’t there.”
Summer rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t pull a muscle. “Right, because all women start planning their weddings after one kiss.” She glances at a laughing Hannah. “Wanna hit the ladies’? I want to touch up my makeup before the countdown. My lip gloss needs to be perfect for when I kiss my future husband at midnight.” She directs another eye roll at Hunter.
He winks at her, unfazed. “Better hurry, Blondie. Only sixteen minutes left.” He nods at the huge digital clock hanging over the DJ station.
“Be right back.” Hannah gives Garrett a kiss and then follows Summer.
“I need a refill,” I tell Garrett. I gesture at his empty hands. “And you need a drink.”
He nods, and we leave Hunter at the table and make our way to the bar. We stop at the far end of it where it’s quieter, near the arched doorway leading to the restrooms.
I order two beers and hand over some cash. When I turn back, I find Garrett eyeing me.
“What?” I say awkwardly.
“What’s going on with you and Summer?”
“Nothing.” Fuck. Did I answer too fast?
“Liar. You answered way too fast.”
Goddammit.
His tone becomes cautious. “When she got handsy back there…you didn’t seem to mind.”
He’s right. I didn’t mind. The last time I saw Summer, I made a conscious effort to keep my distance. Tonight, I let her touch my arm. I shared a drink with her. Honestly, if I liked to dance, I probably would’ve let her drag me onto the floor.
“She’s… Well, she’s into me,” I say slowly.
Garrett snorts. “No shit, dude. That chick wants to ride your dick.”
“I know.” Guilt pricks my throat. I hope I haven’t been leading her on tonight. “Don’t worry,” I assure him. “I won’t go there.”
He looks startled. “Why would I be worried?” His eyebrows furrow. “Wait. You might be misunderstanding. I’m not warning you away from her. I think this is a good thing.”
A frown touches my lips. “You do?”
“Of course. I mean, one—you never hook up.”
I swallow a laugh. That’s not true at all. I get lots of action. I just don’t talk about it.
“Two—Summer’s cute. She’s fun. Easy to talk to.” He shrugs. “She could be exactly what you need. You’d have to run it by Dean first, though. He thinks she’s a brat, but he’s protective of her.”
Run it by Dean? As in, ask Dean for permission to bone down with his little sister? Garrett is frickin’ crazy if—
My thought process halts.
“You’re talking about more than a casual hook-up here,” I say.
“Well, yeah. She’s Dean’s sister. He’d kill you otherwise.”
“I’m not dating her, G.”
“Why not?” He reaches forward to grab our beers, passing one my way.
I twist off the top and take a deep gulp before answering. “Because she’s not my type. We’ve got nothing in common.”
“She likes hockey,” he points out. “That’s a start.”
“And I think it might end there,” I say dryly. “I design and review video games. I’m into art. I’m covered in ink and I binge-watch crime shows on Netflix. And she’s… I don’t even know.” I scan my brain. “She’s obsessed with shoes, according to Dean. And he insists she has a shopping problem.”
“Okay. So she’s into fashion. Some people consider that art.”
I snicker. “You’re reaching.”
“And you’re judging. She seems like a good girl, Fitz.”
“Dude, she got kicked out of Brown for partying too hard. She’s a party girl. She’s in a sorority.”
I’m on a roll now, because my dick is still semi-hard and I’m desperately grasping for reasons to not screw Summer.
“She’s…fluff,” I finish.
“Fluff.”
“Yeah, fluff.” I shrug helplessly. “You know, not serious about anything. She’s surface level.”
Garrett pauses for a long moment, searching my face.
He stares for so long that I fidget with the sleeve of my hoodie, feeling like a specimen under his microscope. I hate that intrusive sensation of eyes boring into me. It’s a scar left over from childhood, a need to blend into the background, to be unseen.
I’m two seconds from telling him to cut it out when he starts to laugh. “Oh, I get it. I was wasting my time trying to sell you on her. You were already sold.” His gray eyes light up gleefully. “You have a thing for Dean’s sister.”