Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“There’s a college gig in Vlasta that wants me.”
“You don’t like snow.”
“And a private dance academy in Dalvegan.”
“Texas is too hot.”
“And an offer to choregraph a musical in Doctenn.”
“That’s a whole other country!”
“What’s with the editorializing?” Small snickers escape as I glue on the material. “You trying to prove to me you remember something from high school geography?”
“I remember Spain having an asinine amount of great ball players.”
“They do.” My head bobs back and forth. “But most of them suck in bed.”
Unhappiness has him skeptically leaning closer to me. “Which. Ones?”
“Which ones sucked in bed or which ones did I sleep with?”
“Both.”
“Nope.” With the finishing touch now on my denim vest for “Klingon Karaoke”, I lock eyes with him. “You’re not gonna hunt down the dudes that broke your ‘no one in my league bangs my sister’ policy.”
“But-”
“Besides since they were out of country, so technically a different league, meaning you have no grounds for beatdowns.”
Jer flings himself backwards on a pout.
Thankfully, he’s not overly protective, just protective enough.
It’s one of the reasons why Wheeler only makes a real play to get back together with me when he’s not around.
“You uh…” he extends his arms outward to rest on the edge of the furniture, “actually considering any of those offers?”
I stand to unplug the iron yet pause the action long enough to reply, “Not until the Hellcats fill the position I want with someone else.”
“That’s my twin,” chuckles my brother.
“Could mine go change?” Resuming the short trip over to the wall occurs. “I don’t wanna be so far down the list that I don’t get to perform until like midnight or some shit.”
“Want me to just meet you down there?”
“And risk the chance of you skipping out all together to sleep with Nichelle or Pammy or Gia-”
“Ji-ah,” Jer corrects with a sharp point of the finger.
“Nu-uh,” I mock on a yank of the cord. “Go to your room and get your ass dressed. It’s karaoke time, bitch.”
To no surprise, it takes him longer to get ready than he initially swears.
Why simply swapping out his basketball shorts for his own nerd patch bearing jean bottoms we worked on and adding a bit of product into his hair takes almost half an hour is beyond me.
But if I had to guess?
He’s probably sexting someone.
Jericho practically lives and breathes pussy during offseason since he abides by a strict, almost completely celibate lifestyle from training camp to finals.
Our eventual migration from our rooms to the activity area is slowed by his texting – hence the idea he was probably sexting earlier – however, it’s my ex that can’t take the hint that ends up blocking our entrance to the endeavor.
“Hey J,” Wheeler slyly states, fidgeting hands finding their way to his pockets. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”
“She’s been busy,” Jer retorts for me, frame leaning a bit forward, towering over the retired singer. “With her boyfriend.”
“Right,” brushes off the male on a step back before finding my gaze again. “Can we talk?”
“Our people are waiting for us,” announces my fraternal half.
“Can we just…” his eyes widen in an obvious imploring fashion, “talk for a minute? Alone?”
This time I offer him a surrendering nod, ready to end this stalking shit once and for all. “Okay.”
Jer’s brow scrunches in displeasure. “Nae-”
“I got this, Jericho.” Delivering his arm a reassuring pat is attached to a request. “Can you tell J.T. I’ll be right in?”
Post one long, skeptical stare, he too nods.
Accepts the situation.
Brushes past the problem in our path with a full body check.
Wheeler fumbles slightly out of the way prior to huffing, “I don’t get why he fucking hates me.”
“Could be because you cheated on me. Could be because you cheated on me with one of his exes. Or could be because I’ve politely and impolitely told you to fuck off alike and you won’t.” My arms fold firmly across my jean vest sporting chest. “You are one restraining order away from him legally possessing the ability to drown you in the ocean and call it self-defense.”
“He wouldn’t…”
“I highly suggest you don’t fuck around and find out.”
An undeniable cringe of discomfort crosses his face prompting me to say my peace.
“Look, Wheeler, we’re over. Completely. One hundred and ten percent. I never wanna date you again. I never wanna sleep with you again. I never want another call or text from you again. We are through. Through, through.”
“Come on, J…Just give me one more chance.”
“There are no more chances to give. Putting aside the amount of women you let turn your dick into their own personal microphone, you were a shitty boyfriend. You never listened to me-”
“I always listened to you!”
“Oh yeah? What’s my favorite band?”
“Um…Nickelback?”
“I should kick you in the dick for that.”
“I’m close though, right?!”
“Wrong.” Frustration has me rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “So very fucking wrong further proving my point.”