Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
He kicks the grass. “I don’t think she can read.”
I can’t help it. I laugh just to keep from strangling him. I don’t like the feral anger that roars inside me because he is implying she is something other than perfect. “No fucking way. She’s fucking brilliant and throws out stats like it’s nothing. I’ve been messaging her for weeks.”
Blake chews on his lip. “Dude, I could tell the tears she cried were from embarrassment. She asked me to read the note and then asked me what the signs said.”
Huh.
No.
That can’t be right.
Our conversations flow easily on the app, but then why would she ask him to read to her? That not only confuses me but also has guilt burning in my chest. I rub the spot as I look anywhere but at him. “Really?”
“Yeah, bro.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “She was really crying?”
“Yeah,” he says, kicking the grass again. “And I asked Bammer and Jippy, and they said she asked them to read their notes too.”
Shit. My stomach turns in on itself. If she truly can’t read, then I’ve done nothing but remind her of that over and over. My voice is gruff as I ask, “Did she cry then?”
He shakes his head. “No. I think the reason she did today was because we drew a crowd, and they were all taking pictures and squealing for her to say yes.”
Well. Fuck.
I run my hand through my hair as I let out a long breath. “So, you’re probably right, and she was mortified,” I say more to myself than to him.
“Oh yeah. She was brighter red than a tomato, and the tears made her eyes seem wider. She really is pretty.” I flash him a dark look, and he throws his hands up. “For a girl I have no interest in.”
Don’t ask me why I needed him to say that.
But I do, especially with the guilt that is overwhelming me right now. It all just seems wrong, though. Like, unreal. There is no way in hell she can’t read. She’s getting her master’s in sports communication; you have to read and write for that. She is quick when she types me back, but what if she’s voice texting? I know how I get when I’m embarrassed, all growly and pissy. She may not be an athlete, but I feel like she has an athlete mind-set with how big her goals are.
I’m not saying that nonathletes aren’t goal-oriented, but usually, they don’t live and breathe making their goals happen. It takes being beaten up by a sport you love to look past the hurdles in order to make what you want to happen. I actually did a paper about this my junior year, and the research was fascinating. When I told Ambrosia about it as DoesMyBreathStink60, she agreed and told me about a paper she did for her psychology class about being an athlete.
It was refreshing and…fuck, I like talking to her.
I am sure she likes talking to me.
Above all, I need to apologize for upsetting her.
I pat Blake’s shoulder. “Thanks, man. Drinks on me.”
He gives me a sad smile before walking away as I bring out my phone. My mind is reeling, and I need someone to help me think this through. I hit Louis’s number, and he answers right away. “What’s up, brother?”
He says it like the Madden NFL streamer Sketch, and I can’t help but bark out a laugh. He’s such a dork. “Bro, my plan backfired. She cried.”
His laughter stops, and I know he’s probably frowning. He helped me with the posters last night and promised he’d talk me up at the game I invited her to. “No shit. You made her cry? You’re a right bastard.”
I roll my eyes. “Where are you?”
“Quad with Jennings.”
I head toward him. “On my way.”
“Great. Love when you interrupt my date with my boyfriend.”
“Right? Third-wheeling is my favorite.”
I hang up to his laughing and jog toward the quad as my mind plays through every interaction I’ve had with Ambrosia. Her quick little grins, her bright eyes and flushed cheeks. The way she stepped right up to me, looked directly at me, and then flicked my nose. Even with the shock of it, I memorized how her head fell back and her lashes kissed her cheeks as she glared at me. How sharp and clever she is. How fucking dazzling she is.
How not having the chance to see what she can add to my future seems worse than not picking between football and hockey.
A thought that annihilates me and makes me jog faster.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Dawson
I head toward the trees where I know Louis and Jennings will be. The whole time, my thoughts circle around Ambrosia as I try to figure out why she would act like that. Did I expect her to cuss the guys out? Sure. I was fully ready for her to chase me down the first time, but she’s been radio silent. I don’t know. It’s weird, but I’m not backing down. I want to message her just to make sure she’s okay, but I want it to be from my mouth when she learns that I’m DoesMyBreathStink60.