Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
6:45
“Screw it.” I grab my keys and stand. If I stay here any longer, I’m going to lose my damn mind.
Besides, it’s going to take at least a half hour to get downtown, which puts me at the restaurant early but not embarrassingly so.
Fine. It’s too early, but since when is being early a bad thing?
The last time I saw Nova was six months ago, at the Baddies Holiday party, and I hate to tell you…she mostly ignored me. Not in a rude way. More like I wasn’t on her radar?
She smiled at me—once—but who was counting?
Meanwhile, I spent the whole night tracking her movements like a fucking idiot, like a lovesick puppy. Watching the way she tilted her head when she laughed, the way her eyes lit up when she talked with my teammates…none of whom have an actual chance with her.
Gio makes that very clear at the start of each season. Loves the sound of his own voice—gets up on a bench in the locker room like he’s delivering a speech to Parliament, droning on about "stay away from my sister, keep your dicks in your pants," blah blah blah.
Anyway.
I’m pretty fond of my teeth exactly where they are. And Gio has made it painfully clear that if anyone so much as thinks about messing with his sister in a way that isn’t strictly respectful and aggressively platonic, he’ll personally rearrange their face—no dental plan required.
He polices this shit harder than a ref on a power trip.
Don’t know if I’d act the same way if I had a sister, but I also don’t know that I wouldn’t? My teammates are all fucking cool; I can’t see myself cockblocking any of them.
I exit to downtown, driving slowly because traffic is insane.
The Rainforest Café isn’t difficult to find, and I after I park, I check my phone—no texts. No last-minute cancellations.
Good.
She hasn’t chickened out on me.
I exhale, running a hand through my hair before stepping out of the car. This is fine. Everything is fine.
If Nova wants giant aquariums covered in toddler fingerprints— and a volcano brownie that shoots firecrackers for a first date—then I’ll give her the best damn Rainforest Café experience of her life.
3
nova
Ishouldn’t be nervous.
I’m way too cool for that.
Not to mention, I’m comfortable.
My sneakers squeak against the tile as I wander through the gift shop of the Rainforest Cafe, dodging shelves of stuffed frogs and tie-dye T-shirts that say I SURVIVED THE STORM! Such a dramatic slogan for a restaurant that simulates thunderstorms, but hey—I loved that shit when I was younger.
I flick my gaze toward the entrance. No sign of Luca yet.
Good. I need a second to breathe and compose myself and pretend I’m unaffected by the anticipation.
To busy myself, I pick up a plastic snow globe with a tiny, spinning parakeet inside and give it a shake, watching dozens of colorful butterflies flutter inside.
“Cute.”
The deep voice rumbles right behind me, so close that I nearly fling the damn snow globe across the gift shop. My breath catches as I spin around, clutching the overpriced trinket like it’s a live grenade.
“Jesus,” I exhale, pressing the snow globe against my chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I set it back on the shelf.
Luca is completely unbothered.
“Nah. Just checking your reflexes.”
Dang.
Up close and personal, he is bigger than I remember. Massive, even. Broad shoulders, thick arms, the kind of build that makes it painfully obvious he plays hockey for a living.
And he knows it, too. Standing before me all smug, giant hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, unaware that my heart rate just kicked up a billion notches.
I straighten my spine. “My reflexes are perfectly fine,” I mutter. “You’re so lucky I didn’t chuck this at your head.”
“Tsk tsk. Let’s not choose violence before we even sit down for a drink.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s sharing a secret. “Wouldn’t be the first time a girl’s thrown something at me.”
I hum in satisfaction, stepping ahead of him into the restaurant, where plastic vines dangle from the ceiling and animatronic monkeys silently judge our life choices. The whole place smells like fried food and fake plants.
It’s loud—kids shrieking, the distant roar of an animal that’s probably supposed to be a lion, and the occasional clap of thunder, mixed with the sound of rain and exotic birds chirping.
I barely register any of it.
Because Luca is trailing behind me and I feel it. I feel him.
The weight of his gaze on my backside as I make for the bar, which is shaped like a gigantic freaking mushroom, and hop up onto a glossy toadstool.
I slap the stool next to me—a rhinoceros’s ass—so he’ll sit down.
“You want me to sit on a rhino’s ass?” His brows lift.
I flutter my lashes innocently. “It’s a premium seating experience.”