Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Still, I can’t help but wonder if I hadn’t gotten involved with him if she might be a little nicer to me.
Probably not.
Feeling sorry for myself, I lie down on the bed. My phone goes off a moment later, letting me know I have a new text message. I reach into my pocket and pull my phone out and see a number that isn’t programmed into my phone flash across the screen.
Without looking at the message, I know it’s from Cage.
Against my better judgment, I open the message.
Cage: What does a nosy pepper do?
I stare at the screen, wondering what the hell he is talking about.
Cage: Gets jalapeño business.
My lips pull up at the sides, and I shake my head. A second later, my phone dings again, and it’s another message from him.
Cage: What do you call a fake noodle?
Again, I stare at my phone, waiting for him to tell me the answer.
Cage: An impasta.
This time I let out a snort and a short chuckle. Where the hell did he find these jokes?
I stare at the screen and consider texting him back, but I don’t have the energy. Ever since he came barreling into my life, nothing is the same. I went from being the invisible nerd to the girl that everyone sees and all because I turned down a football god.
Letting the screen go black, I drop my phone onto the mattress beside me and close my eyes. With a smile on my lips, I let thoughts of Cage run rampant in my mind.
6
Cage
I can’t even explain why it bothers me so much that she didn’t respond to my texts. Who doesn’t write anything back? Is she not getting my texts? Did she give me a fake number? Or is she actually ignoring me? Probably, ignoring me. I guess I’ll ask her tonight when I get to our session.
As if the universe is listening to my thoughts, I hear Blair’s name being mentioned somewhere close by, which pisses me off because I’m in the locker room, and none of these fuckers in here should be talking about her.
Turning around, I pinpoint exactly who the fucker is when Evan says, “Yeah, Amanda was a total bitch, basically running over Blair and knocking books out of her arms.”
“Amanda is always a bitch.” Murphy chuckles.
“Yeah, but a bitch with a great set of tits, who can suck a dick like a fucking vacuum,” Dale yells, and the rest of the locker room erupts in laughter.
“Damnit, now I’m going to have to get the image of you with your dick down the vacuum out of my head.”
More laughter fills the space, but I don’t feel like joining in one bit. Especially not when Dale speaks again.
“Maybe think about the nerd sucking my dick instead, wouldn’t that be something?”
“Shut up,” I growl before I can stop myself.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Stop thinking about getting your dick wet and start thinking about winning the next game instead.”
“Calm your ball sack, it’s just practice today.” Dale rolls his eyes at me.
“Practice you desperately need. Now get your head in the game.”
Turning away from them, I put on the rest of my gear and try to ignore their whispering behind me.
“What was that all about?” Evan asks when it’s just him, me, and Murphy left in the room.
I slam the locker closed, maybe a bit harder than needed. “I’m tired of him fucking around and distracting everybody,” I half lie. I am a little annoyed by Dale, but I really don’t care that much about winning the game, not as much as I should for being the star linemen. “How do you know Blair anyway?”
“I have a class with her. Why are you being so territorial?”
Territorial? Jesus, I’m not being territorial, am I?
“I’m not. I’m just tired of hearing about it. Plus, I need her to fall for me. Can’t do that if I have other guys sniffing around her.”
“Got it. No sniffing around the nerd.” Evan nods while Murphy raises a single eyebrow at me. “Now, let’s go play some ball, boys.”
Finally, something we can agree on.
My shoulder aches and my knee pops with every step I take. This fucking sport is killing my body. Just thinking about the game this weekend is giving me a headache. At least my dad won’t be coming to the game. We’re playing an away game against Blackthorn Elite, and my father doesn’t have time to make the two-hour trip.
No, he’ll just watch the game and call me later with his complaints, scolding me, pointing out every single mistake.
As if he knows I’m thinking about him, my phone starts to ring, and Father flashes across the screen. I hit the green button and hold my cell to my ear.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Cage, did you go to practice?”
“Of course,” I say, trying not to show how annoyed I am.