Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
I comb through my thick mousy brown hair and tuck it behind my ears. I never wear it down. Not ever. I’ve had it in a ponytail at all times since I first picked up a basketball. I don’t like it in my way, and that applies not only to when I’m on the court, but all the time.
Tonight it’s down. I’m not going to a game or class. I’m going to a nightclub. No one is going to have a ponytail. I’ll probably be the only one there without makeup, but frankly standing here on one leg trying not to stab myself in the eye with the mascara wand seems unnecessary. It will be dark in the club anyway, right?
After grabbing my crutches from against the wall, I manage to hobble over to my bed where I left my backpack. I unzip the outer pocket to grab my credit card and ID.
Glancing around the room, I wince. I’m the most boring human alive. I’ve been a minimalist my entire life. All I’ve ever cared about was basketball. I need new hobbies.
Who am I kidding? I plan to drink myself into a stupor and then come back here and wallow in my pity party for a few more days. Maybe another week. I won’t flunk out. Plus all my professors understand what I’m going through. I’m devastated. A lot of people are devastated for me.
After tucking my ID and card in the pocket of my jean skirt, I face Rachel again. She’s still standing in the doorway. Her brow is furrowed. “You’ll take a ride share there and back?”
“Of course.” I lift my brows and glance down at my leg. It’s not like I can drive.
She gives me a wan smile. “You look pretty. The skirt, I mean. And the sweater. I didn’t even know you owned a denim skirt or a white sweater.”
I shrug. “Can’t get jeans on over my brace.” I chuckle when I look down at my feet. I may be dressed nice from the knees up, but there’s no way I could have managed heels. I’m wearing white sneakers.
In my opinion, the sweater is a bit too formfitting. It’s snug around my chest. I figure it makes me look like I have more in the boob department than I actually have. I’ve hidden behind baggy T-shirts since I grew boobs in the first place. I’m lean and muscular. Not the sort of girl guys find attractive. Even my breasts are mostly muscle. But this sweater makes me feel rather feminine.
I swing myself across the room with the crutches. After all, I’m tall enough to set the crutches down pretty far away from me each time and strong enough to haul myself along with them. My underarms are starting to chafe, but I’m going to ignore them for tonight.
Rachel gives me an awkward hug. “Please be careful.”
“I’m always careful. I think it’s high time I do something slightly reckless.”
She chews on her bottom lip as I leave her standing in our two-bedroom campus apartment. We’ve been friends since we both arrived here as freshmen. She’s one of the few people in my life who isn’t on the basketball team, so we haven’t exactly hung out together often, but she’s a good roommate.
When I get to the door, I turn back to look at her. “Don’t study too hard,” I joke.
“Don’t stay out too late,” she responds with a chuckle. “Don’t set your drinks down. Keep them in your hand the entire time. Don’t let strangers buy you drinks. And if you must really stretch your wings, be sure to use a condom.”
I laugh as I gimp out the door. Condoms. Yeah, right. As if I could be that lucky.
Chapter Two
Bamgin
“Shall we go downstairs?” Nanish asks me, rubbing his hands together. He’s smiling broadly. Of course he is. This is his first night here at Club Zoom. Everyone has that excited look on their faces the first night. Maybe even the second. Hell, we just watched Tekfan spot his Little girl from the monitors in this second-floor control room. He’d been here two weeks, and though he’d been growing weary, he hadn’t fully lost that spark of excitement.
I, on the other hand, would like to invest in some serious earplugs. Even on the nights when I don’t bother to go down to the dance floor, I can still feel the pulse of that hideous music from here.
Six weeks. They say I’ve been here longer than any other Eleadian male, waiting for Fate to stop dorking around and arrange for my intended mate to actually make an appearance.
I’ve considered giving up, but the investment in this trip to Earth is tremendous. The journey to this planet is six months Earth’s time each way. That’s a year plus the time it takes to find her, the hours of research into human females we do to prepare, and then additional time off work when we return to help her get acclimated.