Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I smile a bit, and he grins. “There. Made you smile.”
My smile widens. Preston has been showing up around me out of the blue. He’ll have lunch with me and Dahlia more often than not, and that usually makes Kane and Jude join. Then both of them—especially Jude—will glare at Preston or even elbow him or stomp on his foot.
That doesn’t seem to deter Preston, though. He keeps coming back and texting me the most random things.
I reply, mostly because I feel some sense of…friendship, I guess. I’ve never really had friends aside from Dahlia, and Preston is friendly and extremely nice to me.
Dahlia said it’s weird because he’s been aggressive toward her, especially since he found out about the ex she dated for a couple of weeks, Marcus.
She always tells me to be careful with that ‘snake Preston’ since he’s unpredictable, but I haven’t sensed any bad vibes from him.
Besides, Preston is kind of my window into Jude. He answers any questions I throw at him and gives more info than I even ask for.
“What did you think of my game tonight?” he asks with the same grin, dimples still creasing his cheeks.
“You were great.”
“More passion, Vee. I know you only came to watch Jude, but give more importance to my godly energy on the ice.” He narrows his eyes. “Are you one of those girls who gets blind to everyone but their boyfriend?”
I can feel the heat creeping up my cheeks. “Jude’s not my boyfriend.”
“Oh? Then what is he?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest.”
“Want me to ask on your behalf? Tell him to fuck off while I’m at it?”
“You don’t have to…”
“Well, fuck me all the way to Sunday. You like him that much?”
“I d-do not.”
He hits my shoulder with his jokingly. “Is that why you look pretty tonight? Because you totally don’t like him and didn’t come to the game and club for him?”
“Just…” I push at his arm. “Stop teasing me.”
He laughs, and something about it is so comforting. Preston is truly beautiful. I’d say he’s way more beautiful than Jude if I weren’t biased, but since I met him, I’ve felt that his arrogance about his looks is just a front.
I don’t know how to explain it, but I see myself in him—someone who’s struggling with his own perception of himself and doesn’t want to let his true self loose.
So even when he smiles or laughs or is being mischievous, it all feels calculated, because it’s his method of projecting himself onto the world.
But right now, as he laughs so genuinely, I can’t help but smile.
“No clue what you see in the man. He barely knows how to talk to a girl. He’s so closed off, he gives me a bad name.”
“Were you also close with his previous girlfriends?”
“What girlfriends? He’s never had one of those. Don’t get me wrong, he’s my best friend, but he’s too brutish. If he gives you trouble, let me know.”
“What will you do? Punch him for me?”
“Hell yeah. I’ll be punched back ten times worse, but I’ll survive. It’ll be worth it for your beautiful smile.”
“What would be worth it for her beautiful smile?”
We both freeze at the newcomer’s voice. Or I do, because Preston’s cheerful expression immediately darkens, and his upper lip lifts in a snarl.
At first, I can’t make out the tall, broad guy who walks toward us with a slight smirk painting his lips.
Then I see his face under the dim light, and recognition sets in.
Marcus Osborn.
The Wolves’ captain and center, as well as one of Dahlia’s worst exes.
He has angular features and a scar that slices through his right eyebrow, giving him an unsettling presence. His dark-gray eyes look black in the lack of light as they flicker over me in a mechanical profiling.
It’s almost like he’s seizing merchandise.
I’ve never met Marcus before, only heard Dahlia curse him a thousand times over and had to listen to people idolize him in Stantonville.
“Go ahead.” Marcus’s eyes look void and creepily unsettling as he stares at me. “Show me the beautiful smile so I can decide what is worth it or if it’s worth anything at all.”
“The fuck are you doing here?” Preston nearly growls the words.
“Aw. Why so cold?” A spark lights up Marcus’s previously dead eyes as he smirks, cocking his head in Preston’s direction. “Came to celebrate your win. Aren’t I supportive?”
“You—” Preston cuts himself off, then grins. “Wrong timing. As you can see, I’m busy with Vee.”
“Vee.” Marcus’s smirk drops and I shiver as he directs a glare at me. “Why don’t you smile for me, Vee? I’m trying to figure out if Armstrong has a fucking death wish on this fine night.”
“Leave her the fuck alone.” Preston punches him in the chest. “And you’re the one who seems to have a goddamn death wish, Osborn.”