Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“I was being polite,” I snap.
“Polite,” he scoffs. “First off, I never bring a hookup to my home. Ever. I don’t want them knowing where I live. The last thing I need is a stalker situation.”
“Well, that’s . . . bleak.”
“It’s reality, Chess. Mine.” He sets his hands low on his hips as he glares down at me. “I didn’t fuck her. I haven’t fucked anyone for six damn months, if you want the truth.”
“Wait, what? Why?” And, what? How can that be? Has he seen himself?
His expression turns pugnacious. “That’s my business.”
“Then why tell me?” I grit out.
Finn turns away, his face flushed, before pinning me with a look. “I know I joke about hooking up and it gave you the impression that I’m a player. That’s on me.” He takes a step in my direction, and the lines of his body grow hard. “But you’re talking of leaving because you think I’m some revolving fuck door, and that’s bullshit.”
“I’m not judging you, Finn.”
“Yeah, you are,” he says with a bitter laugh. “At least have the guts to admit that much.”
“I freaked, okay? I didn’t expect a woman to show up here because I never picture you with other women.” Only with me. “Not because I think you’re some walking sex act.”
Finn blinks, his brows lifting high. An awkward silence falls over us, and it’s all I can do not to escape to the safe harbor of my room. But I can’t do that. “I’m sorry if I offended you,” I tell him. “I don’t know how to navigate this roommate situation, and it’s confusing.”
He gives a tight nod, then blows out a breath. “This isn’t a prison, Chess. I can’t make you stay. And, frankly, I don’t want you to stay if you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable—”
“But if you want to know how I feel about it,” he cuts in. “I want you here. My life is better with you in it. I look forward to coming home. To you. And I really don’t give a shit if that makes me a selfish bastard.” With that, he turns and heads for his room. “If you still want to move, I’ll help you find a place in the morning.”
Eleven
Finn
I wake with a stiff back and throbbing head. It’s par for the course after a game.
Doesn’t make it more bearable, though. The pain is bad enough to have me limping to the shower. Five painkillers and thirty minutes of standing under blistering hot water helps me feel almost human. I’m still sore, and my skull feels like cracked glass, but I’ll manage.
What isn’t going away is the shitty heaviness in my chest when I think of last night.
I was over the line when I lit into Chess. Britt’s appearance had thrown me for a loop, and I took it out on Chess instead. The burning bolt of jealousy I’d felt when I saw Nate’s text didn’t help.
Nate? Seriously? She goes out for a few hours and she has some guy named Nate texting her?
Of course she does. Chess is magnificent. A guy would have to be dead not to notice her. He’d have to be a fool not to make a play if he got her talking to him. No, if he got her to confide in him.
I rub my chest as I hobble to my dresser. Fuck, it irks knowing she told some charm boy bartender that she needs a new place to live instead of coming to me with her concerns. Cursing, I tug my clothes on and slam the dresser drawers shut.
Fact is, I’m the fool. I want Chess. I’ve wanted her since the beginning. But I got caught up in old habits and let her think I was a bad bet, good for only one night. And she’s made it clear she has no interest in taking a chance on me. Hell, I orchestrated it so that she wouldn’t.
Why did I do that?
I don’t have an answer, but now I have to face her . . . and tell her what? Hey, Chess, I know I’ve never dated a woman, but the thought of you leaving fills me with dread. Because I don’t want to be your friend anymore. I just want to be yours.
Yeah, that will go over well. She’ll probably cut and run.
It occurs to me that this is why I don’t do relationships; I know fuck all about how to handle one.
Maybe start by apologizing for flipping out on her last night.
Since Chess usually sleeps until ten, I decide to get her some breakfast as a peace offering. Apparently, she’s a sucker for beignets. I’ll jog over to Cafe du Monde and pick her up a bag.
As I turn the corner into the main living space, I halt in my tracks. Chess looks up from her spot at the stove. “Hey!” she says with forced brightness. “I’m making French toast. With sausages. Do you like French toast?”