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)
“Yeah, it will be nice to have some underwear for once.”
Brady’s lips tip up to one side and his parents chuckle. He moves to the side so I can slip through the door, but he squeezes my fingers as I pass, and the little act of reassurance makes me smile.
Everything is going to be okay.
We’re going to be okay.
We watched the sunset together.
I tense, shaking the thought from my mind, and rush to get ready.
I’m changed and coming down the stairs in less than five minutes. Brady and his parents are gathered by the door, saying their goodbyes.
They turn to me and I lean in, giving Ben a hug first and then Tisha.
She squeezes me tight, whispering in my ear, “Trust your instincts, honey.”
My brows pull, eyes finding Brady’s over her shoulder, but then she pulls back, smiling sweetly. “Brady’s got last night’s leftovers packed away in a little ice chest in the truck already, and I made some muffins this morning. They’re in the bag with some more snacks for the road—candy, cookies, chips.”
I squeeze her hand. “Thank you and thank you guys for such an amazing weekend. I didn’t realize how much I missed home and home cooking.”
“Hey, you know you don’t have to go to every football game. You can always come home on the weekends and watch it on TV with the rest of us old people.”
“I might take you up on that.”
“What? No!” Brady gapes, and I look at him. “You have to come to my games.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“And why is that?” I tease, tipping my head to the side.
His eyes narrow in challenge, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Don’t worry, Big Guy.” I walk over, patting his chest. “I wouldn’t miss watching you play for a lifetime supply of Cookie Crumble coffees, let alone to hang out with old people on game days.”
“Hey.” Ben feigns offense, and this time, I give him a wink.
With a final wave, I leave Brady to his goodbyes and head out to the truck, but he’s right on my tail, our doors closing in unison.
He turns the music on, and I take that as a sign he doesn’t feel like talking yet, so I pull my phone out and play around a little.
When I look up again, we’re pulling into the drive-through of Bebe’s Brews.
Our eyes meet, neither of us saying a word, and finally he sighs, reaching over and unlocking my seat belt. He grips me by my thigh and pulls, my ass sliding across the seat until I’m in the middle. He buckles me in beside him. When it’s our turn he orders for us both, and we’re back on the road within ten minutes, warm breakfast burritos and coffees in hand.
I peel the wrapper back on his and pass it to him, following suit with my own. Before I take a bite, I look his way, burrito in one hand and salsa cup in the other. “You sure you don’t want to feed me mine?”
Brady scoffs, sliding a grin my way. “Eat, brat.”
Smiling to myself, I do just that.
The first few hours go by pretty quickly, and then the afternoon seems to drag. We stop twice so baby-bladder Brady can piss and a third time for gas.
It’s dark by the time we’re pulling into the parking lot of my dorm, a little rainstorm seeming to be rolling in with us. It’s kind of ominous considering Brady had gone quiet about a half hour ago.
As he swings around the curved drive, his eyes are darting all around.
“Looking for someone?” I tease.
“Huh?” His head snaps my way. “No.”
I feel a frown threatening but I let it go, my mouth stretching into a yawn as I unbuckle and start pulling on my shoes.
“You want to come up?”
He glances out the front window, shaking his head slightly. “No, I don’t think I should.”
“Afraid I might get a little needy again?”
His eyes snap my way, but I falter when he doesn’t smile.
“Look, Brady,” I begin. We avoided this topic the whole drive, but I guess it has to be discussed now. “Don’t make this weird, all right? It’s fine if you regret letting it get that far.”
A huffed laugh leaves him, and he shakes his head. “It’s not that.”
“Well, it’s something.”
He drops his head sideways against the glass, a long exhale leaving him, but when he looks my way, his expression doesn’t match the heaviness in his body language. He’s got his megawatt Brady grin in place, and I kind of want to smack it off him. “I’ve had a lot of fun, Fake Girlfriend.”
A sinking sensation weighs down my stomach at his words because I know there are more coming, and I don’t think I want to hear them.
“I think it’s time to put you back on the market.”
Yeah, he totally freaked out this morning.