Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“No, you’re not. You’re hurt.”
Jett grimaced. “My knee is bugging me, but it’s not a big deal. I just need ice.”
“Oh. Well, let me help.”
“You got a bag of ice on you?”
“No, but…I have some at home,” I replied.
“Me too and my place is closer. Come with me. We’ll walk and talk.”
We strolled through the quad under canopies of trees decked in fading autumnal splendor, past the Humanities building and Smithton Hall. The fifteen-minute walk should have taken ten, and I couldn’t be sure if the delay was due to Jett’s knee pain or the half dozen stops he made to bump fists with friends and student hockey fans.
I’d known Jett was popular, but the mini sensation he stirred on Main Street surprised me. Everyone either greeted him like a long-lost friend or pointed, twittering his name as if he were a rock star. Between the frenzy of onlookers and Jett’s drawn features, I’d forgotten my reason for stalking him—excuse me…seeking him out this afternoon until he opened the door to his one-bedroom apartment, dropped his bag and jacket on the floor, and made a beeline for the refrigerator, triumphantly excavating an ice pack.
“You should get off your feet,” I advised, following him into the adjacent living room furnished with a gray sofa, a large flat-screen TV, and a coffee table.
There was no art on the walls, no photos of friends or family either. Just a lot of blank space. I had a passing thought that he could use a plant or two, but I kept it to myself.
Jett flopped on the sofa, propped his right foot on the coffee table, and groaned. “Fuck.”
“Is it bad?”
“Meh. It just flares up every once in a while.” He made a funny face. “I should probably change out of my jeans so I can feel the ice better. Or just…take them off. Do you mind?”
Gulp.
“Good idea,” I squeaked.
I could have sworn his cheeks were flushed, which in all fairness, might have been from the walk. Still, Jett hesitated for a moment before standing to unbuckle his belt, unbutton and unzip his fly, and lower his jeans. His black boxer briefs snagged on the denim, pulling the fabric to expose his V-line and the root of his thick cock.
Oh. My. God.
Was I staring again? Yes.
Yes, I was.
I was riveted in place. There was no way I could tear my gaze from this show. No way at all. I just hoped I wasn’t drooling.
Jett fixed his briefs as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his jeans. Once he was comfortable, he reclaimed his seat, securing the ice pack on his knee.
“So…what’s up?”
“Um…I wanted to thank you for your time.”
He frowned. “My time?”
“Yes, we’ve…uh, reached the final juncture of our partnership. It’s been most enlightening and—”
“Whoa. Are you breaking up with me, Maloney?”
“What?” I blinked, catching the teasing note in his voice. “Well, yes…I am. We’ve had a good run, but our love affair couldn’t last forever. You’re too you, and I’m too…me. I wish you the very best and all that…malarkey.”
Jett’s lips twitched. “You’re terrible at breakups.”
“Unsurprising.” I adjusted my glasses with a sigh. “I’ve never broken up with anyone. Have you?”
“Not really. I don’t date much.” Jett scratched his nape and gave me a look I couldn’t read. “I think this is where you tell me we’ll always be friends.”
I slumped on the sofa next to him. “I hate that line. What could be more heartbreaking than settling for friendship after a torrid love affair?”
“Was ours torrid?”
“Definitely.”
“Like…smoking cigarettes in bed after sex torrid?” he pressed.
“If I smoked…yes.”
Jett grinned, shifting to face me. “I don’t smoke either. What do people in a torrid love affair do post-orgasm if they don’t smoke?”
“Gaze into each other’s eyes, of course.”
“Of course.” His thumb brushed the collar of my shirt. A whisper of a touch. “Did we do that?”
We were gazing now for sure. His eyes were so blue, his lashes so dark. How was it possible for one man to be so darn attractive?
“All the time.” My tone was light and breezy, a strange contrast to the flare of heat simmering between us.
No…that wasn’t real.
That was me conjuring a scenario I desperately wished were true. I wished he were gay or bi, and I wished Jett saw me for me…and liked me anyway. He did. But not that way.
And it was over the top and childish to wish for the impossible. Being friends was improbable enough, but we were friends and I didn’t want that to change.
Jett pursed his lips and looked away. “So, you’re done with the hockey part of your thesis?”
Some of the tension whooshed out of the room. My shoulders slipped a notch as I hiked my knee onto the cushion between us.
“Yes, I have all the data I need. Professor Finkwell thinks I have too much, which might be true. It wouldn’t be wise to continue researching hockey when there are other facets of motion that need to be explored.”