Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
The last thing I need is to stir up more shit with three starters and my team captain. I’ve already been hit by two of these guys. I’m not looking to add a third.
For some reason I spin, plastering on a careless, asshole-like grin as if I’m completely unbothered, and I’m met with three hard stares.
I quirk my lips up higher. “So no need for me to show up early tonight, huh?”
Brady shoots to his feet, but Chase catches him around the collar and Brady clenches his fist, allowing his buddy to tug him back down.
I don’t want to hear what might be said after that. I hustle out of the room, stepping into the tunnel that will lead me to the field.
I can’t think about this shit right now. There’s a game to play soon, and I need to focus just in case I’m called off the sidelines.
Right now, I’m going to worry about the plays on the field, and tonight, I’ll decide which ones to use off it.
Win the game, then win the girl.
That’s the plan.
We won’t talk about how every plan I’ve ever made for my life has failed miserably.
Damn it.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cameron
I shuffle back, smoothing out the final edge of the towels, and stand. Staring at my arrangement, I purse my lips, wondering if I should have set us up on the floor. In the end, I shrug and move into the kitchen. “He’ll just have to put his arms at his sides if they hang over the edge.”
Opening the fridge, I peer around the drinks in search of some of Ari’s leftovers from yesterday, but there’s no luck. All that’s staring back at me is several bottles of chocolate Ensure shakes and fresh ingredients I want nothing to do with. One of the best parts about being away at college? My parents aren’t hovering over my shoulder every couple hours, asking what I’ve eaten so far today. It’s sweet and I’m blessed with a family who cares, but sometimes I just want to pretend it doesn’t matter if I’m having too much fun to remember to eat.
I was thirteen and still hadn’t hit puberty when my parents and I realized something might be wrong with me. I wasn’t overly active like the boys, so we knew that wasn’t the cause of the “late blooming” as Mom called it, and then there’s the fact that I was, and still am, an eater—I eat all the time and I’m almost never full. Well, at least not for long.
I was hungry after breakfast but before lunch and then raiding the fridge before dinner just to do it again before bed—sometimes twice. Not just snacks either but actual food, though I have always been a bit of a snacking queen, too. There is never not some sort of munchies in my purse or backpack, and it’s always been that way.
All that food down the hatch, and I was stick skinny, sometimes sickly so. My clothes had to be sewn or pinned if I wanted to wear what others my age were wearing. If not that, then I was stuck in leggings meant for a seven-year-old and what looked like oversized T-shirts, but that was before it was an actual trend to do so.
Kids were assholes until Brady and Mason chased them around the playground, and my teachers thought I was neglected or underfed. It didn’t help that I was taller than all the girls in my class at that age.
Turned out I have an overactive thyroid. They say I’m “one of the lucky ones” because I can manage my disease with meds, and I didn’t learn about the other challenges the disease would leave me with until I was a little older. But we don’t think about that part, Cameron.
I don’t remember to take the pills every day, but I remember enough that I don’t have hardcore issues, and I’m no longer worried about blowing away with the wind. It helps now that I’ve forced myself not to hate weight training and have built muscle over the bones to help me look fit rather than frail, but it takes a good amount of carbs to manage. I still have to down some less-than-desirable shakes a few times a week and eat some nasty greens here and there, though.
Yeah, I am not feeling either of those options at the moment.
I sigh, staring longingly at the empty shelf meant for leftovers in the fridge.
Ugh! Does the dream couple have to be all into health shit right now? What a girl wouldn’t give for him to start teaching Ari how to bake. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to drink shitty shakes at all.
There’s a hard rap on the door, and I frown, moving to look out the peephole. My eyes flick to the ceiling, and I tug the damn thing open, blinking at the guy on the other side.