Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“Maybe.”
Lovey grins and claps her hands. “Maybe is almost as good as a yes.”
“And there will be tons of cute guys.” Lacey waggles her brows.
I laugh and shake my head. “We’ll see. As much as cute guys sound awesome, I’m not sure my brothers are going to make dating very easy this year.”
“Hopefully they’re too busy with sports and classes to pay attention to what you’re doing.” Lovey twirls the end of her hair around her finger. “Thankfully Liam and Lane live closer to hockey row, so they can’t interfere with our dates.”
Lovey and Lacey are the youngest of six, and they have four older brothers to my three, so they sort of understand where I’m coming from, but not completely.
“They’re also super chill,” I point out.
“This is true.” They nod in tandem.
As much as the idea of a party excites me, the reality isn’t at all the same. I want to be social, to have lots of friends like they do, to join clubs and be part of things, but I get so stressed out when there are too many people around. People think I’m weird.
Which I am, but in those situations, I end up looking weirder than average.
My stomach growls loud enough to startle me. I glance at the line of students. There are at least ten people waiting to order.
“Are you hungry? Do you want me to grab you a coffee? Something to eat?” Lovey offers.
“I can wait.”
“I was about to get a tea. Tell me what you want, and I’ll order it for you.”
Even lines make me anxious. Sometimes people try to talk to me, and then I have to make polite conversation with strangers, and I don’t have the energy left for that today.
I give her a grateful smile. “Okay. I’ll take a decaf, coconut-milk latte and a scone or a muffin.”
“That’s it? They have sandwiches.”
“A muffin is good.”
“Nothing with raisins, though, right?”
“Right.”
As soon as Lovey gets in line, she strikes up a conversation with the guy in front of her. She isn’t even flirting. She’s just nice.
Lacey and I talk about class schedules while we wait. Every few minutes someone stops to say hi. Lots of girls give BJ a sly second glance when they pass him. Like Lacey and Lovey, he’s a junior, but unlike most twenty-one-year-olds, he’s sporting a full, lush beard, better suited for someone at least five years his senior. He’s also sporting a sizeable tattoo that spans from his wrist to his elbow, and he has plans to continue the art until he has a full sleeve, exactly like his dad. In fact, BJ is almost the spitting image of his father, apart from his chocolate-brown eyes, which are very much his mother’s.
The other big difference is that instead of being into hockey like his dad, BJ is a figure skater—a tattooed, bearded figure skater, who hangs out with a bunch of hockey players. He gives off a zero-fucks vibe at all times. Since our mothers are half sisters, we’ve always spent a lot of time together, particularly during holidays.
When Lovey returns with food, BJ’s eyes pop open. He yawns loudly and stretches. “Lavender? When’d you get here? How long have I been out?” His voice is low and raspy with sleep.
“A while ago.” I help Lovey unload the tray of food. She was smart not to let me go up and order myself. There’s no way I could carry the tray without spilling something. I’ll never have a serving job; that’s for sure.
BJ leans forward to scope out the goods. Before he can reach for something, Lovey shifts to block him, her hands on her hips. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m hungry,” he says gruffly.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re literally always hungry, BJ.”
“That’s because I’m a growing boy.”
He tries to reach around her to nab something from the table, but she elbows him in the side.“You get last pick.”
BJ gives up trying to steal her lunch and flops back in the chair wearing a mirthful grin.
Before I can take a seat in the middle of the couch again, BJ grabs me by the waist and yanks me into the chair with him.
“What’re you doing?”
“I need you to save me. A girl I hooked up with last semester walked in, and she’s a stage-five clinger. Pretend like you’re into me.”
I make a gagging sound and try to get out of the chair, but the springs in the seat are shot, and my knees are practically at my chest. “Seriously, BJ, that’s just wrong. We’re related.”
“She doesn’t know that. Just stay put until she’s gone.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder to keep me seated.
I’m not sure if I’m embarrassed or entertained or both. BJ is ridiculously charismatic, and girls throw themselves at him on a regular basis.
A tall, blonde girl with her hair pulled up in a ponytail, fastened by a pink glitter bauble more suited to a six-year-old, wearing uber-short-shorts, a spaghetti-strap tank, and four-inch espadrilles sashays over, popping pink bubble gum. Interestingly, she looks a little like Lovey and Lacey, but a lot less wholesome.