Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I pull two cute tops from her closet and change into the first one. “How’s this?”
“Super cute.” Cammie gives me two A-okays.
“You’re not usually this worried about how you look for a house party.” Enid swipes gloss across her pouty lips.
“I know.” I pull the shirt over my head and replace it with option two. I like it best.
“So what’s going on?” Cammie presses.
I prop my fists on my hips. I have to tell them eventually. “I agreed to be Mac’s fake girlfriend.”
They stare at me like I’ve just admitted to adopting a pet walrus.
“His fake girlfriend?” Enid repeats.
I explain what happened during our study session the other night and Mac’s proposal when he walked me back to my apartment. “He just needs a date to the hockey gala and some peace from all the girls hounding him for a date.” And some lessons in boundary setting.
“Right, so it’s not because either of you have a crush on the other,” Cammie says, rather cheekily.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I hang the other shirt and put it away to avoid eye contact.
“Of course you don’t,” Enid mutters.
“We should probably get going!” I head for the hallway, so I don’t have to answer more questions.
Enid and Cammie follow. Chase is meeting us there because he and the guys had a workout.
I tuck my feet into boots, pull on my coat, and leave my toque since Enid is driving tonight, and I only have to deal with the frigid temperatures for the walk across the visitor’s lot.
The blustery wind slaps me in the face the second we step outside. I quickly pull my hood up, tuck as much of my hair inside as I can, and pull the strings, so I look like an acorn. We duck our heads and trudge to the car.
Fifteen anxiety-riddled minutes later, we arrive at the party. A second-year hockey player and his roommates are throwing it. The space is vastly different from Mac’s off-campus house. This is a total bro-pad, complete with gaming chairs and upside-down milk crates as side tables.
Enid passes out mini bottles of hand sanitizer. “I have wipes if they run out of toilet paper, too.”
“That seems likely,” Cammie mutters.
“I’m afraid to see the bathrooms here if this is what the living room looks like.” Something unidentifiable is splattered on the wall. Maybe food? Maybe once-liquid?
Mac spots me from across the room.
My palms grow instantly sweaty and my knees a little weak as he breaks from his hockey buddies to come say hi. All his attention is focused on me as he crosses the room. Every part of my body responds at his approach.
Do I hug him? I want to hug him. I want the warmth of his arms around me. We didn’t even really talk about how we’re supposed to act tonight. Or what the parameters are.
“Hey.” He aims his pretty, dimpled smile at me.
“Hey.” I fight with my hands not to wave since only six inches separate us.
“Hi, Enid. Hey, Cammie.” He nods to the girls.
Cammie can’t help but poke at us. “Hey, Fee’s boyfriend.”
Chase rushes over and wraps himself around Cammie, nuzzling into her neck.
Mac and I both look at them, then each other, and then the floor. I’m irrationally disappointed when he doesn’t follow Chase’s lead.
“I’m grabbing a drink. I’ll find you in a bit.” Enid slides between us and heads for the kitchen.
“Can I get you something?” Mac offers.
“Sure. Yeah.” Maybe alcohol will make this less weird.
Cammie and Chase are already sucking face like they haven’t seen each other in a year, instead of two hours.
“I’ll go with you.”
“Okay. Cool.” He nods and rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes darting down and back up and down again. He skims the back of my hand, expression a little uncertain.
Is he trying to hold my hand?
He laces our fingers. “Is this okay?”
I look down at our clasped hands, amazed that something so innocent manages to make every sensitive part of my body react. “Oh, uh. Yeah.” I hope my palm stays dry with all this contact.
His green eyes search mine. “Are you sure?”
“Positively positive.” I’m grateful my tone deepens instead of pitching up.
“Good. Great. Let’s go get you that drink.”
“Yeah.” I need it for sure.
His fingers tighten around mine as he guides me through the throng of bodies. There must be a hundred people here already. Apparently, it’s someone’s birthday based on the sign haphazardly taped above the doorway.
We trail Enid to the kitchen. Brody is leaning against the counter, strategically sandwiched between two players. That way the girls who flank the other two can’t get to him. His hand is in his pocket, baseball cap pulled low, expression bored.
But when he catches Enid in his peripheral vision, he pushes away from the counter and heads for us.