Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
He drinks the contents of the cup and fills it again before I pour one for myself.
“Depends on how drunk I get on Friday night after the game,” I say to annoy him.
Too eager to pass judgment, he frowns at my stupid remark. “Dude, we just talked about this. For a smart guy, sometimes you’re so dense. Stay in and play video games with me instead. Your dad’s new game is sick.”
“Oh, I know. Right? I was playing Mage Wars last night drunk off my ass. The graphics were insane and even better with a good buzz going.”
I sit down at a leg machine and remove the towel hanging from my pocket to wipe down the equipment.
“We should play later,” Preston says.
I flash a joker-like grin. “Think you can keep up with me?”
He throws his hand out at me and laughs. “Please. More like… can you keep up with me? Seriously, though, stay in with me after the game, kill off a few levels, and come to the games on Saturday. If you’re there, Bex might lower her guard more. She probably thinks it’s a date or some shit.”
“I guess.” I pause for a second and then add, “But I’m not leaving the house at the ass crack of dawn with you. I’ll meet you and Bex for the second half of the games.”
Somehow, he always manages talking me into doing shit I don’t want to do. Like getting up early on one of my few days off from school and hockey.
He slaps me on the back. “I knew I could count on my wingman.”
“You know, you could just ask Bex whatever you want to know. Stop acting like such a pussy.”
Preston groans. “Whatever. I’m hitting the showers. I’ll catch you later.”
“I’m making dinner later.” I lift the bar, somewhat out of breath. Damn, this is sad. “Make sure you’re home.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re making dinner? What in the microwave? You don’t know how to cook.”
“Shannon’s making dinner for me, by extension, she’s now cooking for the entire house.”
“Sounds good. But I don’t want my food poisoned.”
I laugh. “Nah, Shannon’s cool.”
I tell him about Shannon and her sisters dancing in a contest this weekend at The Sixth Floor. He agrees to come with our friends and me. Not like he’d miss an opportunity to watch half-naked girls shake their asses on a bar.
About to leave, Preston glances over his shoulder at me. “Did you get any new leads on The Queen?”
“No. I wish. I looked again this morning before I went to class. Whoever’s running the blog is good. Better than I expected.”
“So, what’s that mean? You can’t find her?”
“I can and I will. But I need more time. She’s a coder with actual skills.”
He laughs. “You’re getting beat by a girl?”
His question irritates me. “She’s just making it harder for me to find her.”
“If we don’t react to her, maybe she’ll go away.”
“She posts new pictures of us every day,” I point out. “Everyone on campus is talking about her. They’ve even downloaded her app. I doubt she’ll go away soon. When you feed an animal, they keep coming back for more.”
That’s the worst part about all of this. The Queen has infiltrated the cell phones of almost everyone on campus because of her stupid app. You can scroll through pictures of most of the popular students on campus in compromising positions, all because of the mastermind behind Dethroned. She’s good, way better than I could’ve imagined. I hate being bested by anyone, and The Queen has really gotten under my skin.
“Then we have to stop feeding her ego,” Preston counters.
I chuckle. “Good luck with that. Our teammates might listen to you, but I wouldn’t hold my breath with the rest of the students on campus.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “I’ll see you at home.”
After he stomps off, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s Shannon telling me she’ll see me in an hour. My heart crashes into my chest.
I’m excited about our date.
Chapter Six
Shannon
After work, I rush over to the Kappa Delta sorority house to practice the dance routine for this weekend with my sisters. I stumble through the front door, already fifteen minutes late. Abby has a strict policy about being on time.
She narrows her eyes at me when I walk into the living room, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where were you?”
“My professor wanted to talk to me after class,” I lie.
Only a few of my sisters are aware of my financial situation. Abby is the last person I would ever tell anything personal. She still believes my parents have money and that I can afford to buy expensive clothes. Jordan is her closest friend. She would ever tell on me, not when she helps me conceal the truth.
For a second, Abby glares before extending her hand for me to take my place among my sisters. “Now…” she hisses, turning back to the group, “… where were we before we?”