Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
“So you still play?” he asks.
“Yep. I got a full ride to Fairview.”
“They have a good program.” He looks at me the way my parents’ friends look at me when they’re about to ask me whether or not I’m any good.
I get it. From my stature, it’s obvious I can’t dunk—which is something many people, even ones who are six feet tall, can’t do. It doesn’t help that I’m a girly girl and always sharing my love of makeup with the world. Most of the time, I like being underestimated, which is Gracie Andrews’ specialty.
“Let me guess, your girlfriend Gracie told you I suck.”
“Not my girlfriend. Not my anything,” he says. “I just figured with your height…”
“I know. I’m so glad they were able to overlook my height long enough to appreciate my skill set.”
He barks out a laugh that seems to surprise him and frowns at me like I’ve done something wrong. He continues to study me like he’s trying to figure me out, which is kind of funny since most people think I’m an open book. I mean, I document most of my waking life on my vlog, TikTok, IG, and Snap. Hundreds of thousands of people have formed strong parasocial relationships with me, which is cool, but can be strange sometimes. His eyes drop from my eyes to my mouth and continue lower in a slow perusal that makes me feel naked.
“What, you didn’t get your fill when you were watching me from the corner like a creep?”
“You noticed me looking at you?” His eyes shoot back to mine. “I’m sure you liked knowing my eyes haven’t strayed from you all night.”
My stomach dips despite the arrogance in that statement. I manage to raise an eyebrow and say, “I bet you thought I would.”
He tilts his head. “You’re telling me you weren’t dying for me to walk over and introduce myself?”
I let out a huffed laugh. The nerve of this guy.
“If I wanted an introduction, I would have walked over there. Maybe I would have, but you looked like you were a little busy.”
“Just biding my time and trying to figure out if I should get a picture with you, since you seem to be the most popular person in the room.”
I laugh. “Let me guess, you’re used to being the center of attention.”
“Maybe.” He searches my eyes. “So, you know who I am.”
“Obviously.” I signal in the direction Mallory disappeared to.
“Besides being Mal’s brother.”
I hesitate. I don’t need to feed his already overinflated ego, but telling him I don’t know who he is would be a huge lie, so I decide to go with the things I’ve heard from everyone. “Finn Barlow. Number one pick in the NHL draft, center for Vegas, and notorious womanizer.”
He raises an eyebrow and tucks his hands in his pockets. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me.”
“Please,” I scoff. “You’d have to live under a rock to walk around Fairview and not know those things.”
“How have we never met?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, how have I never seen you?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Divine timing, I suppose.”
“Divine timing,” he repeats, still studying me. “Where’d you go to school?”
“Olympia.”
“All four years?” he asks, and when I nod, he adds, “You met Mal at Fairview?”
We’re in different social circles, so I can see why he’d find it difficult to believe that I wouldn’t know his sister from a high school party or something. Even though most kids at Olympia are from upper-middle-class families and it’s known as the “rich kid school,” it’s public. I can’t imagine the Barlows even considering sending their child to a public school. They didn’t even go to a regular private school. They went to one of those international private schools that cost as much as a Ferrari.
“Olivia Nassir is my best friend. We met through her,” I explain. Livie went to Olympia, and her family isn’t Barlow-rich, but their parents do business together.
“My sister isn’t the most welcoming to outsiders,” he says.
“Trust me, I know.” I smile thinking about how Mal treats most of the friends we’ve introduced her to.
I don’t like to say she’s a bitch, but she’s extremely uncomfortable around people she doesn’t know. From what I know about their upbringing and how many of her friends, including Gracie, have stabbed her in the back, I don’t blame her.
“We should make up for lost time,” Finn says.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, leave with me,” he says, eyes smoldering.
My breath seems to pierce out of my lungs. I’m beginning to understand why everyone is enamored with him. He hasn’t looked away from me all night, and the way he’s talking to me … being the center of Finn’s attention provides a certain kind of high. A high I can’t afford right now, or ever. Nevertheless, I remain nonchalant.
“You don’t even know my name.”