The Wrong Play (The Wrong Player, #2)

by C.R. Jane

Probably because he was smug in his safeness thanks to the tracker I’d installed in that manly friendship bracelet he had around his wrist. Thanks to me always gently observing him, he was guaranteed to have a backup in case anything happened to him. I was such a good friend.

Her head snapped up, and the second her wide, honey-colored eyes met mine, something clicked into place inside me. Like the fucking universe had just aligned in my favor. Like I’d been waiting my whole life to meet her. It was over. I was done. She was mine. She just didn’t know it yet.

“There it is,” I murmured, feeling strangely satisfied. “There what is?” she asked, still smiling. “The first laugh. The first step toward our inevitable love story.”

Parker: You’re stalking her, aren’t you? Me: I prefer to call it strategically placing myself in her orbit. Matty: You say that like it sounds less insane. Parker: I don’t think it sounds insane at all. Matty: You wouldn’t, Mr. I Like to Watch Casey While She Sleeps.

“Hey, Thatcher, your dick’s the size of a tic-tac,” Clayton, one of the aforementioned corners, taunted. “That’s why your mom’s breath smells so good,”