Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
My fellow Kappas have become emboldened by their hormones and are well on their way to getting loaded. Except for Rebecca, who ordered a Diet Coke. She’s a few seats away and hasn’t looked my way once. I was surprised she even came out tonight, but I suspect she hadn’t known I was here when Lisa invited her. Since pledge week she’s basically run the other way any time she saw me coming.
“You’re not mad, are you?” Conor sits down beside me with our drinks that he just got from the bar. There’s some trepidation in his eyes. Like maybe he’s just realized that crashing dinner and inviting himself to drinks is more invasive than charming.
“Not mad, no.” I eye him over the rim of my drink. “Curious, though.”
“Oh?” A hint of his trademark playful smile resurfaces. “About?”
“What prompted you to hunt me down and subject yourself to the rabid hungry gaze of my sorority sisters. Surely you have better things to do.”
“We’ve got to keep up appearances, right?” He’s trying to play it cute, flashing his cheeky grin and flirtatious charms, but I’m not buying it this time. Something’s up with him. There’s a tension in his demeanor that doesn’t suit him.
“I’m serious,” I insist. “I want a real answer.”
We’re interrupted by a loud bang on the table. Courtesy of my sorority sister Beth Bradley, who showed up only thirty minutes ago and is already tipsier than everyone else.
“We should play Dare or Dare,” she announces, smacking the table until she’s gotten everyone’s attention. She raises an eyebrow at me, biting her lip impishly.
While Lisa and Olivia don’t seem to be Abigail fangirls, I know Beth is somewhat chummy with her, which means I’m instantly on guard.
“We should get a new game,” I answer dryly.
“What’s Dare or Dare?” Across the table, Foster has just committed the cardinal sin of volunteering himself. Poor dumb bastard.
“Well,” Beth says, “I challenge you to a dare and you must complete it upon penalty of death.”
The other guys snicker.
“Sounds intense,” remarks Matt.
“You don’t know the half of it,” I tell him.
I can’t help but glance in Rebecca’s direction, a tiny lump rising in my throat. Whatever potential friendship we might’ve had was just another casualty of this stupid game.
“Here.” Sasha shoves a shot in front of me. She’s just returned from her own trip to the bar, sandwiching herself between me and Matt. The two of them have looked pretty darn cozy all night.
I eye the shot glass warily. Drinking this would be a terrible idea. One, I don’t shoot liquor well, and two, where Conor’s concerned, I’ve got to keep my wits about me. There are traps and pitfalls everywhere, holes full of sharpened bamboo spears waiting to impale me.
“Go on,” Sasha urges. “It’ll take the edge off.”
So I knock it back. It tastes like cinnamon gum and licorice, and not in a good way.
“I just wanted to see you.” Conor murmurs in my ear, continuing our conversation as if it had never stopped.
The combination of liquor heating my blood and his warm breath on my neck makes my head go a bit fuzzy. I lean closer, my arm draped over his thigh to keep myself steady. “Why?” I murmur back.
This time the conversation does stop. His attention has been diverted to his teammate, who is foolishly calling Beth’s bluff.
“Go on then,” Foster says. “Give me your best shot.”
“Careful,” Conor warns. “I’ve seen their handiwork.”
“Oh no, don’t dare me to sleep with a cute blonde.” Foster deadpans. “That’d be the worst thing ever.”
“Alright.” Beth sits up straight, narrowing her eyes at him. “I dare you to get any woman in this bar to take a shot out of your waistband.”
Conor and the guys burst out laughing.
“Oh shit, dude. Let me FaceTime Gavin for this one.” Matt yanks out his phone, his muscular arm sliding off Sasha’s shoulder.
“Yeah, cool.” Foster jumps to his feet while Lisa goes to order the necessary shot. “How ’bout it, Beth. You thirsty?”
“Nuh-uh. Can’t make it that easy. Better start hunting, big boy. You’ve got five minutes or face the consequences.”
As soon as Lisa’s back with the shot, Foster’s on the prowl. He starts by scanning the room for groups of girls who don’t look like they have any hostile meathead boyfriends to worry about. Matt and Bucky hop out of their chairs and follow him for moral support and to record his conquest.
“Tick tock!” Olivia taunts him as we all watch his progress. “Better hurry.”
In short order, Foster’s got a redhead on her knees. I watch with wide, impressed eyes as the girl takes the shot and pops up with a cherry between her lips. Chick’s got moves.
A few seconds later, Foster saunters back to our table with a dumb grin and his chest puffed out.
“Too easy,” he says, then chugs his beer. “My turn now. Beth.”