The Coaching Hours by Sara Ney

Author:Sara Ney [Ney, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: How to Date a Douchebag Series
Publisher: The Coaching Hours
Published: 2018-02-05T05:00:00+00:00

Elliot

Playing the white knight is exhausting.

I’m sprawled out on my bed, the house pitch black except for the glowing television in the corner of my room, when out of the corner of my eye, I see Anabelle tiptoe past.

Quiet as a church mouse, but not quiet enough.

“Psst. What are you still doing up?” I call out to her in a voice barely above a whisper. We’re both awake, but the lights are all off. The mood calls for it, bedtime having come and gone hours ago.

“I was thirsty,” she whispers. “Going to the kitchen for a drink. I was trying not to disturb you in case you were asleep. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

“Yeah, can’t sleep.”

“It would help if the TV wasn’t on.” Her eyes land on the flat screen then flicker back to me, narrowing. “Wait a second—are you watching our show without me? You said you were going to wait!”

Oh shit.

I cringe, busted.

“I’m sorry! It’s been driving me crazy and you’ve been at your dad’s the past few nights so I thought I’d get caught up.”

“Elliot, I’m not caught up either!” Her arms cross over her breasts, the thin, sexy tank top does nothing to conceal her breasts. “I feel betrayed. What kind of a friend does that?”

“I just started it!”

“That doesn’t make it right! How am I going to forgive you?”

“Want me to rewind it?”

From the doorway, Anabelle rolls her eyes. “Duh, yes rewind it! You want anything from the kitchen?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

My roommate isn’t gone for long, the pitter-patter of her bare feet in the hallway returning within a few minutes.

Setting a glass of water on the bedside table, my roommate climbs into my bed—and it’s not that I feel it’s an invasion of my privacy, it’s just different.

And let’s face it, I was never in danger of being ridiculously sexually attracted to my last roommates like I am with this one.

“Do you mind if I crawl under the covers?”

“No, of course not.”

Please do, I silently add, so I don’t have to sit and stare at your long, smooth legs.

On all fours, ass in the air, Anabelle pulls back the bedspread to join me. The tank she’s wearing dips, giving me a clear shot of her cleavage. I try to glance away when her boobs sway beneath the fabric.

“Oh my gosh, it’s so warm in here.” She makes a show of plumping the pillows behind her head, propping them against my headboard so she gets a better view of the TV, arms crossed over her chest. “This bed is so much more comfortable than mine. There’s so much of it, I could get lost in here.”

“Right.” ‘Cause really, what else is there to say? I can barely concentrate on the remote control in my hand, fumbling around for the pause button. Hit play, doing my best to settle on my side of the bed.

My side of the bed.

It sounds so…permanent.

My side. Her side.

Knock that shit off, Elliot.

Christ, if the guys saw me right now, they would be laughing their asses off at how awkward I’m acting.

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