The Bad Boy’s Heart by Holden Blair & Holden Blair

Author:Holden, Blair & Holden, Blair
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blair Holden
Published: 2017-11-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen: The Man Can Get Dirtier Than the Inside of an Erotica

Friday night, I stand in the middle of my dorm room busy contemplating my two wild, wild options for the night.

I could a) do my laundry or b) do some assigned reading; exciting times are bound to be in my future, regardless.

Trying not to let my snark overrule what could be a productive evening, I groan and decide to tackle the mountain of dirty clothes in my closet. The thing about having a lot of clothes is that you don’t feel the need to wash them regularly because hey, you could always pull something clean off the shelves. The end result, though, is as scary as probably the inside of Nicki Minaj’s closet.

But I digress; there’s no way I can prolong this painful experience any longer. I grab my basket, dwarfed by the stack of clothes, and waddle my way to the laundry room.

In a not-so-surprising turn of events, the dorm is more or less empty as the occupants have abandoned it for a night out. But once the initial mixers and frat parties had worn off, so had my curiosity for them. Parties were parties, even in college, and I don’t have any plans of using the fake ID Beth snuck into my bag. She’d be so disappointed in me; oh well, at least I’ll have clean clothes.

As the first load of clothes goes in the washer, I dig my phone out of my back pocket and check for any messages. There’s none, and I sigh, leaning against the machine. Nights like these are becoming a norm for me, and a part of me is seriously starting to resent myself. This is college; I’m supposed to be out having new experiences and meeting new people, making new friends, but instead I’m doing laundry, laundry!

Not to mention that I’m constantly disappointing my boyfriend, Cole doesn’t say a lot on the topic. When he told me today that he and the rest of the guys on the football team were having some sort of a team bonding session at a bar, he never asked if I wanted to come along. Yes, I’d been hurt, but I’d also accepted that it was my own fault, for always saying no when he’d invite me to some party, especially after the first few weeks of college.

I think about texting him, about asking him how the team building is going and if I could stop by for some time, but the thought of putting myself in that situation, with a bunch of jocks who can be really, really crude, terrifies me and, quicker than is possible, I slip the phone back into my pocket.

It’s official; I’m a coward, and in the very near future, some outgoing, cheery, spontaneous girl is going to steal my boyfriend because I’m lame.

“Oh My God! I can’t believe you’re here!”

The sound of a squeal in my immediate vicinity nearly gives me a stroke, and I realize that I’d

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