Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Some molten mixture of panic and curiosity filled my chest, heating me from the inside. Brody’s presence wasn’t quite intimidating, exactly, but it made me feel… smaller.
I cleared my throat, reaching up to fiddle with my glasses for no reason.
“I’m here,” I said. “I live here. I mean, I’m your roommate. Housemate, I guess, is the better term? I’m... Logan.”
Damn. Already fumbling my words.
“I’m Brody. And I’m so sorry,” he said, stepping forward to reach out a big mitt of a hand to shake mine. His eyes were the same color as his hair—that luminous chestnut brown, underneath rows of dark, thick lashes.
Yeah. He definitely wasn’t intimidating in a scary sort of way. Not with eyes as gentle and beautiful as those.
But talking to him definitely felt more difficult than any exam I’d ever taken. I always got tongue-tied around traditionally hot guys, and Brody ticked just about every box on the really fucking hot jock checklist. I could immediately see how he was a playboy—with looks like his, he could get anybody he wanted in bed.
“I didn’t realize you were home,” he said. “I tried to knock on your door twice earlier today. Was going to introduce myself, but when there was no answer, I figured you were out.”
“I was out,” I said. “Earlier, at least. I was in the library. But I got back about an hour ago.”
“Christ, so you heard all of that,” he said, grimacing as he nodded toward his bedroom door. “Jeez. I feel awful. Lance can be a little dramatic.”
I assumed Lance was the blond guy who’d just left the house.
“Was everything okay?” I asked.
Brody waved a hand. “Oh, yeah. It’s chill. He just thought I brought him home for a hookup, which I didn’t have in mind. We went to the First Week Festival tonight. You didn’t go?”
“First Week Festival?” I asked. “Oh, that was tonight?”
A lopsided smile appeared on Brody’s face, one corner of his mouth quirking up to reveal a dimple. “Damn, you’re adorable, aren’t you?” he said.
My heart rate shot up, slamming in my chest like a jackhammer.
I cleared my throat. “I just thought the festival was next week—” I started, unsure how in the hell to respond to a guy like Brody calling me ‘adorable.’ Nobody ever called me that. Especially not casually. Brody had said it like it was nothing, all while looking at me with that dimpled grin.
My cheeks were hot, and I was sure he could see it. I’d always hated how easily I blushed.
“You didn’t know it was tonight?” Brody asked, friendly, moving the conversation along like butter. “It’s always the first Friday of the year. It was all over the website and in the KMU Daily.”
“I haven’t read the Daily since freshman year,” I said. “I probably should, but…”
“But you’re too busy reading other stuff?” Brody asked, nodding toward one of my bookcases in the living room. The bookcase was one of four separate ones in the room, all of which were overflowing, the shelves straining under the weight of my mountain of books.
“Sort of,” I said. I was hoping he couldn’t see past my open bedroom door to the two other bookcases in there, chock full of even more books.
“You’re a history major?” Brody asked, his eyes scanning over my many rows of history books like they were foreign relics.
“History and comparative literature double major,” I said. “Did I mention that in my text messages?”
“I see,” he said. “And no, the landlord told me. He mentioned you won the National Excellence Scholarship award last year.”
I nodded. Brody leaned against the wall as he looked back at me, crossing one leg over the other, revealing new groups of muscles that I hadn’t even seen before.
He looked so damn strong, even when he was just standing casually in our small living room. I couldn’t imagine how he might look when he was actually working out, or sprinting his way across a football field.
“My brother made me try for that scholarship,” Brody said. “Even though I told him there was no way. Turns out the National Excellence Scholarship board doesn’t like awarding football players with 2.9 GPAs.”
There was something pained in his voice as he described it. He clearly wasn’t proud of his grades, and it stirred something sympathetic in me. Almost like I had an urge to give him a hug, even though I barely knew him.
Usually I wanted to run far away from new people. Something about Brody was having the opposite effect on me, though. Something about him drew me in, actually.
It felt… different.
“Yeah, they’re pretty tough. I didn’t think I’d get it either,” I told him.
It was partially a lie. I knew I’d had a good chance at winning, and now that I had, I was able to go to school completely free for my senior year.