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)
“What’s wrong, Tay-Tay? I don’t recall you having a problem kissing other guys on a dare. Or is your kink just hooking up with girls’ boyfriends?”
Because that’s what it always comes back to with Abigail: revenge, and the mistake she’s been making me pay for every single day since sophomore year. No matter how many times I apologize, or how sincerely I regret hurting her, my life is but to amuse Abigail with my suffering.
“You should see a doctor about your raging bitchitis,” Sasha snaps back.
“Oh, poor Taylor, such a prude. Don’t turn your back or she’ll steal your dude,” Abigail sings. Her mockery becomes a chorus when Jules jumps in to sing along.
Their taunting stabs at the nerves behind my eyes and makes my fingers go numb. I want to shrink into the floor. Disappear into the wall. Burst in spontaneous flames and become ash that settles in the party bowl. Anything but me, here, now. I hate unwanted attention, and their mocking has recaptured the eyes of several drunken faces around us. A few more seconds and the whole house will bust out in song about how I’m a prude, like a horrible scene out of my worst nightmare.
“Fine!” I burst out. Just to make it stop. Anything to shut them up. “Whatever. I’ll do the dare.”
Abigail smiles in triumph. She couldn’t be more obvious if she were drooling. “Go get your man, then,” she says, extending a gracious hand behind her.
I bite my lip and follow the line of her thin arm, finally spotting Conor by the beer pong table in the dining room.
Fuck, he’s tall. And his shoulders are impossibly broad. I can’t see his eyes, but I do have a clear view of his chiseled profile and longish blond hair slicked away from his forehead. It should be illegal for someone to be that good-looking.
Big-girl pants, Taylor.
On a deep breath, I steel my nerves and make my way toward an unsuspecting Conor Edwards.
2
Conor
The boys are getting absolutely ripped tonight. We’ve been at this sorority party all of twenty minutes and already Gavin and Alec have torn open their shirts with their bare hands and are strutting around the beer pong table like a couple of barbarians. Got to admit, though, after winning our playoff game, I’m feeling pretty primal myself. Two more victories and it’s on to the Frozen Four. While no one will say it out loud for fear of jinxing the team, I feel like this is our year.
“Con, get over here, asshole.” Hunter calls out to me from across the room, where he and some of the guys have lined up rows of shots. “Bring those two knuckleheads with you.”
We gather with our teammates, all red-faced and high on adrenaline. Each of us hold up a shot glass while our captain, Hunter Davenport, makes a speech. He doesn’t even have to shout, because the music stopped about ten minutes ago. I keep seeing panicky sorority girls darting to and from the speaker system in the living room.
Hunter’s gaze sweeps over everyone. “I just want to say I’m damn proud of all of us for how we’ve persevered as a team this season. We’ve had each other’s backs, and everyone has put in their maximum effort. We’ve got two more, boys. Two more and we’re in the hunt. So enjoy tonight. Let’s turn it up. And then it’s time to get your heads back in it for the final push.”
It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. My punk ass at an Ivy school, interloping among the well-bred sons and daughters of old money and founding fathers. Even with my boys, the closest thing I’ve ever had to family after my mom, I can’t help sometimes checking over my shoulder. Like any day now they’re going to figure me out.
After a shout of “Briar hockey!” we throw back our shots. Bucky swallows and releases a guttural war cry that startles everyone until we all bust out laughing.
“Easy there, killer. Save it for the ice,” I tell him.
Bucky doesn’t give a shit. He’s too stoked. Young, dumb, and full of bad intentions tonight. He’ll make some young lady very happy, I’m sure.
Speaking of ladies, it doesn’t take long for them to coalesce around the beer pong table once we get another game going. This time it’s Hunter and his girlfriend Demi against me and Foster. And Hunter’s girl plays dirty. She’s peeled off her zip-up hoodie and is now in just a thin white tank top over a black bra, which she’s using to strategic effect to push her tits up in our faces as a means of distraction. And it’s fucking working. Foster goes boob blind and misses the table completely with his shot.
“Fuck, Demi,” I grumble, “put those things away.”
“What, these?” She grabs two handfuls and lifts them practically up to her neck while making the worst attempt at looking innocent.