Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“Thanks.” I smile and try not to let him see me reacting to his touch.
“You’ll get it, Corie girl. I know you will.” His hand lands on my knee, this time the blanket separating his skin from mine, but the action is no less potent. He leans in as if he’s going to kiss me, and I lick my lips, knowing it’s wrong but not doing a damn thing to stop him. Instead, he reaches out and pushes my hair out of my eyes. His palm rests against my cheek for a few rapid heartbeats before he stands and walks away.
My heart is racing, and my hands are sweaty. I’m making too much out of this. Knox is just being Knox. It’s my crush that has me seeing things that aren’t really there. Right? I’ve trusted the wrong man in the past, and I told myself that I was going to focus on finding a job and moving into my own place before I started to date again. Not that Knox wants to date me. He’s Landry’s best friend. He’s Knox Beckett, and he’s way out of my league. I know all of this to be true, yet my heart still beats to a rhythm of ridiculous hope that he could one day be mine.
Chapter Nine
Knox
* * *
It’s hotter than Satan’s ball sac out here today. It’s been a long week of practices and game film. Our first preseason game is next week, and Coach Warner has been kicking our ass in practice, making sure we’re ready.
The whistle blows, and Coach bellows, “Hit the showers!” and the entire fucking team sighs with relief.
I rip off my helmet and shake the sweat out of my hair as we all move as a collective unit toward the locker room. I grab a couple of bottles of water on the table set up for us and plop down in front of my locker, draining one and then the other.
“I think it’s hotter this year than years past,” Foster complains.
“Nah, you’re just getting old,” Landry taunts him.
Foster Vaughn is a halfback and the quietest of our little group. He’s also the oldest of the five of us, only one year older than Landry. Landry likes to make sure he reminds Foster of that fact often.
Landry is twenty-nine, and we played college ball together. He’s two years older than me. Reid is one year older than me, and Baker and I are the same age. We’re all within three years of age with one another, but Landry still likes to give Foster shit about being old.
It’s what we do.
“One fucking year, Reynolds.” Foster laughs, chucking an empty water bottle at Landry’s head. He dodges it with ease.
“What are we doing tonight?” Reid asks.
“Eating and sitting my ass on the couch,” Baker tells him. “I’m exhausted.”
“It’s Friday night,” Landry counters. “We’re young, attractive males. We need to mingle with the ladies.”
“Too fucking tired to mingle,” Foster tells him, holding up his hand. “One year older,” he says before Landry can make another old man joke at his expense.
“We can chill at my place,” I offer. It’s not where I want to be tonight, but where I need to be. I would have preferred that Landry invite us to his place, but it’s better this way. Separation from his little sister is what I need. We were supposed to play poker, but we’re all too drained, so we decided against it.
“You don’t have a pool,” Landry complains.
“I have a pool.”
“Not a private one. We have to share it with everyone else that lives in your building,” Landry points out.
“You’re the only one with a house and a private pool,” Baker speaks up. “I guess we’re headed to your place.”
Landry shrugs. “Let me text Corie and make sure she doesn’t have plans for the house.”
He grabs his phone and fires off a text. A few minutes later, he’s telling us to be at his place at six. I wonder if that means Corie won’t be there or that she will. I want her to be, but I need her not to be. It’s confusing as hell, but even though I need to keep my distance, I’ll be there, hoping to see her. Landry would be pissed if he knew that’s my main reason for going. If not for his little sister, I’d be passing and sitting at home on the couch, nursing my sore muscles before we start again next week.
“Bring beer and whatever else. I’ll toss some chicken on the grill.” Landry sticks his tongue out at me. “Does that make you happy, Captain?” he teases.
“Yeah, but easy on the beer. The first game of the preseason is next week,” I remind him. Not that I need to. We’re all well aware of the schedule and that the season is about to kick off.