Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
What am I even thinking?
I gotta pull back. I gotta put some space between us because something is bound to happen beyond our arrangement, and that can’t be. Shit, we haven’t even set ground rules for anything, and everything is already out of control. These last two days alone have me in knots. I wasn’t prepared for any of this, and I don’t know what to do, how to progress without either falling face first into his lap or falling head over heels in love with him.
Bad choices. Such bad life choices.
Since I don’t trust myself to see him, once we’re done with the meet, I haul ass out of the compound to my mom’s car, where my parents are waiting for me.
Which I regret the moment my ass hits the expensive leather.
“He strolled around with your name written on his bare chest. How beyond tacky.”
I roll my eyes as I throw my bag on the seat, bringing my legs up underneath me, and I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
I dig in my bag for my phone as my stepdad says, “You did wonderful, Cameron. Great meet.”
I smile at him in the mirror. He’s aged, but he’s still so handsome, the best guy a girl could have as a dad. I swear, he’s the only reason I still talk to my mom. “Thanks. I’ll get vault, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried at all, Cammy.”
We share a grin as my mom seethes. “Well, I’d hope so. After everything you’ve gone through to be an all-around gymnast, it’s pathetic you aren’t competing as one.”
Oh, how I love when my mom is being toxic.
“Gymnastics isn’t easy, my love,” Dad tells her, and then he looks back at me. “She’s all in fits about that guy walking around with your name on his chest.”
He gives me a roll of his eyes in dramatic fashion, and I grin. “I couldn’t tell.”
We share another grin. “So, it’s serious?”
I shake my head. “We’re friends, but we’re dating for a project I’m doing. Did Mom not tell you?”
“No, because it’s stupid,” she mutters, and I give her a dry look. He turns in his seat, giving me a curious look, and I know he wants to know. So, I explain it all.
He listens intently, like he always does, and nods in agreement. “You know, I remember back in my day, when Ross and Rachel from Friends finally hooked up, everyone was in a fit because they wanted the actors to be together in real life.”
I nod. “Exactly. It’s the football player/pop star thing, or even better, when A Star is Born came out, those actors. They had everyone believing they had something going on, and all it did was push that movie to the top. Everyone craved seeing them together.”
He agrees, a wide grin on his face. “Absolutely. And the data is proving your point?”
“Oh yes,” I say excitedly. “Any interaction we have fuels followers to our socials. Everyone wants us together, and apparently it’s been like that since freshman year. Since the first Beauty and the Bull campaign. Just this afternoon, I got an email from a company that wants us to pose in matching hoodies and offered nine hundred bucks a post—for each of us. I mean, our accounts are growing by the minute.”
“That’s awesome, honey, and good for you. I’m glad he’s helping you.”
I smile. “Yeah, he’s a good dude.”
“Who needs to put shirt on. The meet is over. Why is he still running around like that?” she says, pointing to where Benson is walking toward his car, still beautifully shirtless. My breath catches at the way his abs contract with each step he takes. His face is illuminated by his phone, and I can see the furrow in his brow. He’s pissed. Probably at me.
As he pulls open the door to his Tesla, my stepdad whistles. “I thought you said this was for money on his end.”
“It is.”
“A kid who’s driving a Tesla doesn’t need money, Cameron,” my mom snaps, and I scoff.
“For one, who doesn’t want money? And two, he got that from his billet family. They bought all the kids Teslas.”
“Well, hell. Where was my billet family when I was that age? And what is a billet family?” Mom asks, and I laugh at that.
“It’s a family that sponsors a hockey player from another country. It’s the Adlers. Elli Adler, who owns the Nashville Assassins?”
“Oh, so they got Tesla money,” Dad murmurs.
“We have Tesla money,” Mom reminds him, and he shrugs.
“True, but I don’t have to spend it because my daughter makes more than I do on the internet.”
“This is true,” I agree.
I lean down in the back seat a bit so I know Benson can’t see me as Dad asks, “Where is he from?”
“Canada.”
“Figures. Canada.”
“What? What do you have against Canada?”