Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Her confusion visibly doubled, and I pretended not to notice.
“You wanna throw something on while we eat?” I nodded toward the TV, my voice smooth, casual as ever. “Could use a movie before I knock out.”
“Sure,” she answered with a smile.
She turned away, and I checked the time. It was so fucking early. All I wanted to do was eat, sleep, wake up, and escape to the gym. I had a long night ahead of me before that could happen.
I turned my head, watching Brooke’s steady breathing as she slept soundly. My mind was on the one person who owned permanent real estate in it. If she wasn’t sleeping yet, she’d be curled up on Deadweight’s couch or in his fucking bed, watching some horror movie because those were always her go-to choices outside of anime. Ashton wasn’t a fan of either. Yet another reason that he was wrong for her. They couldn’t enjoy her favorite movies or shows together. I ran a hand down my face and slipped out of bed quietly, making sure not to wake Brooke. She stirred once, murmuring something in her sleep before rolling over.
I needed space from her.
I needed silence, too.
The sound of her breathing was making me overstimulated in the worst way, and I couldn’t exactly smother her with a pillow. The bathroom door shut behind me. I undressed and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. Steam billowed fast, curling along the slate walls like it couldn’t wait to swallow me whole. I grabbed a towel and washcloth and then stepped under the spray, dragging both hands through my hair before bracing them flat against the tile. The water scalded, but not nearly enough to cauterize the thing unraveling in my chest.
The scent of vanilla clinging to my skin wasn’t helping. It was too much like a brand. Or the plague. Reminding me of the things I didn’t fucking want. I reached for my body wash and wash rag, scrubbing hard. I’d spent years learning how to leash the darker parts of myself, training instinct into patience, violence into strategy. For the most part, I was good at it. Always had been.
She made it harder.
Sanjana Marino wasn’t just the exception; she was the consequence. A goddamn drug with a taste too dangerous to forget. And now that I’d had the smallest sample… I couldn’t un-crave it. Every time she looked at me like I wasn’t a monster and touched me with nothing but love, I felt the leash slip just a little more. I was too fucking restless right now, and since I couldn’t fuck or fight it out, I had to force myself to compartmentalize. I recited distractions like scripture. Game plays. Schedules. Homework. Nick’s party. I ran through all of it like military drills. I kept going until I felt marginally better, and then my shower.
After drying off and throwing on a fresh change of clothes, I decided to go and scrounge up some more food. I was positive the others had devoured most of what was ordered after I grabbed a plate earlier, but I was ready to demolish whatever was left. I hit the last step and heard voices coming from the living room. I gravitated toward them. Xander looked up from where he was sitting on the couch. I wasn’t surprised to see he and Rook hadn’t left. We had our extra bedrooms set up for that specific reason, giving them their own space here for whenever they needed it.
“Saved you a few slices, some wings, and the last of the garlic knots before these uncivilized animals took everything else. It’s in the kitchen.”
I dropped into the armchair with a low laugh. “Didn’t think you had it in you to fend them off.”
He leaned back, sipping a bottle of water. “Figured you’d need it. You barely ate earlier.”
“Actually,” Nick cut in from the other end of the couch, “I’m the one who saved the wings. Let’s not rewrite history with the wrong version of events.”
I smirked, about to fire back, but paused when I noticed the faint bruise blooming along his cheekbone. How the fuck had I missed that earlier? “Rough practice?”
He shrugged, cracking his knuckles with a grin that never meant anything good. “You should see the other guy.”
Cade barked a laugh, tossing Nick a mock salute. “Hero of the hour.”
I shook my head. If people thought football could be brutal, they’d never watched Nick tear through the ice during a hockey game. Or in this case, practice. The rink was his battleground, and he played like he had something to prove even when he didn’t.
“How’s the party prep going?” I had meant to ask him about this earlier, but the day got away from me.
“Better than I expected, honestly. You guys are going to help me set up still, right?”