Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Ahh, so he’s your backup plan.”
He nods. “It’s always good to have a plan B, yeah?”
This time, it’s me nodding. “Yeah, good to have a backup plan.”
“What’s your major?”
“I’m dabbling in International Studies?” Whatever the hell that means. “Hospitality or something like that. I’m still not sure.” I’ve always wanted to have a travel blog or an influencer page, but you kind of have to travel to post about your travels. So not doing that—at least not at the moment.
I don’t say any of this to him.
“My sister works for a hotel in Vegas,” he finally says after a few moments. As if he were debating about telling me. “She’s the concierge manager.”
That is a fun fact.
“Really?”
“Yeah. She has some insane stories.” Brodie glances over at me. “I don’t know if she loves it, but when you go into hospitality, sometimes you take what you can get. She started off as a club promoter.”
Club promoter? That’s a male-dominated industry, so his sister must be a badass.
“Why do I picture you as an only child?” I ask him, adjusting myself on the bed so I’m on my stomach, chin perched in my hands, legs bent behind me.
“You picture me as a child?”
“No, I just look at you and feel like you don’t have siblings. A brother maybe, but not a sister.”
I know it’s an odd, random thing to say, but that doesn’t stop me from saying it.
“I also have a brother,” he informs me. “He’s younger. He’ll be a freshman next year—here, actually.” Brodie glances down at me. “What about you?”
I shake my head. “Lonely only. That’s why I love having roommates.”
He snorts. “I don’t. Mine are a pain in the fucking ass.”
I’m sure they are. “Living with four other dudes does sound terrible. And disgusting.” I’ve seen the bathroom, so I can attest to this. Although like I said, the bedroom I’m lying in now is cleaner than I would have ever expected, and I’d wager that if I went and knocked on Sully’s door, his space would be a mess.
Ew.
“It can be.”
“What’s the dumbest thing one of your roommates has ever done?”
“Shit, I don’t know. They’ve done so much stupid shit it would be hard to come up with one thing.”
“I’ll wait.” I laugh, seriously wanting to know.
It takes him a few seconds to think on it, but when he finally opens his mouth to say, “One time, Charlie took such a massive dump that the toilet backed up. ’Cause obviously he had to wipe his ass, right? But there was so much shit in the toilet that when he added the TP, it backed up when he tried to flush it. ’Cause he flushed it like, four times to get it all down.”
My mouth drops open. “That sounds so fucking gross,” I curse even though I’m not a girlie who curses in front of boys. I like them to think I’m way more proper than I actually am. “What did you do?”
“We didn’t do anything. It wasn’t our shit. But it was a huge mess and smelled disgusting,” he recalls. “My parents paid for a hotel room so I could sleep somewhere else.”
“Aw,” I croon. “You should have come slept by us. We would have taken you in.” I wink, dang if I don’t.
Brodie blinks. Then he laughs, finally seeming to relax a bit. “I would never have come over. What would I have said? Charlie shit, can’t spend the night in my own house?”
“Exactly that, yes.” I nod. “One hundred.”
“Next time then,” he promises, though I can tell he’s not being serious.
“You would not.” I roll my eyes, rolling to my back and staring up at the ceiling.
“No I wouldn’t.”
“Why?” I play with the straps of Bethany’s white tank top, wondering if my boobs are flat as pancakes because I’m on my back.
“Because. That would be weird, I don’t even know you guys.”
“You do now.” I roll back to my stomach and look up at him. “We’re friends now.”
Duh.
“You help me, I help you.” Seems obvious. “Now I owe you one.”
I smile sweetly, eyes on his face, watching his expression change from relaxed to moody, brows furrowing as if I’ve told him something scandalous or serious when all I did was tell him I owe him a favor.
Wonder what’s going through his brain.
Wish I could ask and have him answer honestly.
“You don't owe me anything. We're neighbors.”
But I want to owe him something. I want him to want me to owe him. As crazy as that sounds, the idea thrills me even though he couldn’t care less. If he were smart, he would make a move on me if only to pass the time and not because he was interested.
“There's nothing wrong with being bored and passing the time by having sex,” Bethany once told me after she slept with some random guy she met at Starbucks. Said he looked cute with his nerdy glasses, and she had an hour to kill before class. She was already on that side of campus, so they had sex in the bathroom because, why not?