by Elle Kennedy
Do not kiss him, Taylor!
My inner alarm system kicks in, causing my silly schoolgirl kissing fantasy to dissolve just as quickly as it appeared.
“I’m your first what?” I ask, trying to remember what we’re talking about. Conor Edwards is in my lap and it’s really quite distracting.
“First girl to ever reject my cock.”
“Not for the first time, either,” I remind him.
“Yes, thank you, Taylor. You find me unfuckable. I get it.” Conor flicks up an eyebrow. “It’d be a shame, though.”
His hair begs for fingers. To drag them through the soft strands. To touch. My hand itches with the urge to fulfill that wish. “What’s a shame?”
“Don’t stop.” It isn’t until he speaks that I realize my fingers have run off on their own accord. “That feels good.”
So I continue, combing my fingers through his hair. Softly pulling my nails across his scalp. “What’s a shame?”
“Well, we’ve laid such great groundwork already. Spent a night of mind-blowing sex together. Everyone thinks you’ve got me pussy-tranced into falling in love with you. Seems unfortunate to let that all go to waste?”
I eye him suspiciously. “What do you propose?”
“Let’s ride it out.”
“Ride it out.” I play with the idea in my head, turning it over. It is, of course, a terribly dishonest and immature suggestion. So, naturally, I’m intrigued. “To what end?”
“Marriage, death, or graduation,” he says. “Whichever comes first.”
“Okay. But why? What’s in it for you?”
“A cure for my boredom.” He grins up at me. “I like games, T. This feels like it’ll be a fun one.”
“Uh-huh. But what if my perfect man comes along to sweep me off my feet but he gets scared away by Conor Fucking Edwards sniffing around my petticoats?”
“First, yes, keep calling me that. Second, if he can’t take a little healthy competition, he isn’t your perfect man. Trust me on that, babe.”
Every time he calls me babe a stab of electricity shoots through my chest. I wonder if he feels my pulse spike. Or maybe he knows all too well he has that effect on every girl and I am but a toy doll off the assembly line. Lot 251 per one billion. Wind me up and watch me go.
“Fine. What about your admirers?” I counter. “What if Natalie from Tri-Delt wants another go and suddenly you have a fake girlfriend?”
He shrugs. “I’m not interested in another go with her.”
“Bull. Have you seen her hair? It’s so shiny.”
That earns me a snicker. “Shiny hair aside, I’m being serious. She posted a pic of me naked in her bed when I was asleep. That ain’t cool with me. Consent, you know?”
“Bull,” I say again. “Look at you.” With both hands, I gesture toward his half-naked Playgirl physique. “You probably love flaunting it for the camera.”
“Not without my consent,” he repeats, and the hard look on his face tells me he really wasn’t fond of Natalie’s actions.
I suppose I can’t blame him. I still have nightmares about Kappa pledge week and all the embarrassing shit the seniors filmed us doing.
“Anyway,” he goes on, “maybe I need a break from the sex circuit. Take some time to regroup.”
I punch him in the shoulder. “Sex circuit? Oh my God. Must you be so gross?”
He offers that cocky grin again. “You don’t think I’m gross. Otherwise you wouldn’t be letting me snuggle up in your lap.”
I swallow through my suddenly dry throat. “This is not considered snuggling,” I say sternly.
“Sure it is, T.”
“It sure isn’t, C,” I mock. “And, what, you’re saying you’re going to abstain from sex for the foreseeable future? Because I don’t buy that.”
Conor looks aghast. “Abstain? Hell no. I’m gonna try to seduce you at every turn.”
A laugh flies out of my mouth. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Why’d you stop playing with my hair? Felt nice.” His tongue darts out to moisten his bottom lip, an adorable action that quickens my pulse. “So what do you say? We keep pretending for a while longer?”
“The fact that I’m entertaining this idea says I had too much to drink today,” I respond.
“That was hours ago. You’re not drunk. Besides, tell me the look on Abigail’s face every time she’s seen us together hasn’t gone straight to your tingly place.”
“First, don’t ever call it that again. Second…” I want to tell him he’s wrong. That I’m above such petty amusements. However…he’s not entirely wrong about the tingle. “Maybe I enjoyed it a little,” I confess.
“Ha! I knew it. You enjoy the game as much as I do.”
“Just a little,” I stress.
“Liar.”
When he sits abruptly, I experience a sense of loss I’m not allowed to feel. But I feel it all the same, missing the heaviness of his warm body on me and the softness of his blond hair between my fingers.
“What are you doing?” I demand as he hops off the bed and grabs his discarded pants.
He returns with his phone, plopping down beside me. His thumb slides over the screen as he…well, I’m not sure what he’s doing. Because I’m nosy, I lean closer to peek, and discover that he’s pulled up MyBriar, our school’s social media app.
My eyes widen as I watch him change his status to in a relationship.
“Hey,” I chide, “I didn’t say yes.”
“You basically said yes.”
“I was at a seventy percent at best.”
“Welp, might as well prance that last thirty, because we’re blowing up, babe.”
Oh my effing God. The little bubble above the notification icon starts blinking. Ten, twenty, forty.
“C’mon,” he coaxes. “I’m bored. This’ll be good for a laugh, at least. Best case scenario—you cave to my smoldering good looks and fall into bed with me.”
“You wish.”
“I really do. But fine, second-best case scenario: it might get Abigail to lay off you for a while. That’s worth something, right?”
That would be nice. Especially since there’s a Kappa chapter meeting tomorrow and I just know Abigail will be all over me with her passive aggressive jabs.
“You know you want to…” He wiggles his phone in the air enticingly.
My gaze is drawn to the thick silver band around his middle finger. “Nice ring. Where’d you get it?”
“LA. And you’re deflecting.” He holds the phone out to me. “I dare you.”
“You’re incredibly persistent.”
“Some would consider it one of my better qualities.”
“Also completely obnoxious.”
Conor flashes his self-assured grin that says “obnoxious” is just girl code for “charming” when she’s about to break.
“Taylor Marsh, will you do me the incredible honor of updating your relationship status and becoming my fake girlfriend?”
And break she does. As if possessed by some supernatural being, my hand takes the phone from him. My finger logs out of his MyBri and then logs into mine. And as I change my status to match his, I’m vaguely aware of two things:
One, I could have just used my own phone, but it would have ruined the moment.
And two, whatever this is, it’s bound to get messy.
8
Taylor
Less than twenty-four hours after Conor and I make it “official,” the entire Kappa membership gathers at the house while our chapter president leads the meeting. First on the agenda is the upcoming spring election for next year’s president and vice president. Naturally, since Charlotte is a senior, Abigail as her VP is the heir apparent. Gag me with a dishrag.
“To ensure no undue influence on the part of myself or the vice president,” Charlotte is saying, “Fiona will lead the election commission with Willow and Madison. They will host the platform dinner and coordinate the ballot committee. Anyone interested in helping ou
t should talk with them after the meeting.”
Truth is, the election is all but a formality. Every year, the outgoing senior names a junior as her VP and she is elected the following year. All pretenses that we aren’t living under a dynastic system are insulting. Dani, who’s running against Abigail as the lone voice of resistance, doesn’t stand a chance. But she’s got my vote.
“Fi?” Charlotte prompts.
The tall redhead stands up. “Yes, okay. So, both Abigail and Dani will give their final campaign speeches at the platform dinner. The format will be—”
My phone vibrates against my thigh, drawing focus away from Fiona. I peer down and hide a smile when I read Conor’s text.
HIM: How’s my sexy babe doing this afternoon?
I covertly type back a response, although I feel Sasha’s knowing gaze on me. She’s in the chair next to mine, no doubt trying to read what I’m writing.
ME: In the middle of a chapter meeting. Kill me now.
HIM: Kill you?! But then how will we ever fuck?
I fight a laugh and reply with an eyeroll emoji.
He ups the ante by sending a picture of his abs, and I try not to drool all over the dining room table.
“Are you going to share with the rest of the class, Tay-Tay?” comes Abigail’s snippy voice.
My head jerks up. “Sorry,” I blurt, setting my phone on the tabletop. I give Fiona and then Charlotte apologetic looks. “Someone texted and I was just texting back to say I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
“Someone?” Sasha cracks, laughing. “And does that someone’s name start with a C and end with an Onor?”
I turn to glare at her.
But the remark has already snagged the interest of our president. “Conor?” she echoes. “As in Conor Edwards?”
I manage a weak nod.
“My girl Taylor’s landed herself a hockey god,” my best friend brags on my behalf, and I’m torn between smacking her for making me the center of attention and thanking her for hyping me up. Sasha Lennox is the best hype-woman there is. She’s also well aware that the whole MyBri relationship status stuff was baloney, so now I’m praying she doesn’t slip up and somehow reveal the truth.
“No shit,” Charlotte says, looking impressed. “Good going, Marsh.”
“They fucked in my room,” Rachel boasts, as if that means she’s one step away from being Conor Edwards’ girlfriend herself.
“Oh, big fucking deal,” Abigail speaks up, her pale green eyes cool as ice. “Who hasn’t fucked that guy? I mean, seriously. Show of hands—who here has slept with Conor Edwards?”
After several seconds of hesitation, three hands are raised. A sheepish Willow and Taryn on the other side of the table, and a blushing Laura who’s standing against the wall.
Well. Dude gets around.
I swallow the tiny lump of jealousy that rises in my throat and remind myself that I already knew he was a player. Besides, he’s a grown-ass man. He’s allowed to sleep with whomever he wants, my sorority sisters included.
Sensing my discomfort, Sasha turns toward Abigail, pinning the platinum blonde with an equally icy stare. “What are you saying, Abs? You implying that Taylor is, what, of lesser value because her man has a past? Like that means anything. In fact—show of hands,” Sasha mimics, “who here has slept with one of Abigail’s douchey ex-boyfriends?”
To my great amusement, twice the amount of hands shoot up. That’s right—six Kappas, and none of them look the slightest bit sheepish this time around. I suspect they’re receiving some sort of perverse pleasure in admitting it because Abigail is such a bitch.
Abigail’s trusted lackey Jules sports a deep scowl. “Anyone here ever heard of the girl code?”
Sasha snickers. “You tell me, Julianne. Weren’t you the one who just stole Duke Jarrett away from some Theta Beta Nu chick?”
That shuts up Jules.
Charlotte clears her throat. “Alright, we’ve strayed off-topic. Fiona, you were telling us about the candidate speeches?”
Just as Fiona opens her mouth to answer, my phone buzzes again, eliciting an excited shriek from Rachel, who’s draping practically her entire body across the dining table to see the screen.
“He’s FaceTiming you!”
My heart does a nervous flip. “I’m so sorry,” I tell Charlotte. “Let me just ignore the—”
“Ignore?” Charlotte echoes in disbelief. “For fuck’s sake, Marsh, answer it.”
Oh my God. This is my worst nightmare. What on earth compelled my stupid fake boyfriend to FaceTime me when I just told him I was in a chapter meeting? Why would he do this to—
“Answer it!” Lisa Donaldson shrieks.
I’m pretty sure this is the only time Lisa Donaldson has ever even spoken to me.
Heart racing, I tap the accept button. A second later the call connects and Conor’s gorgeous face fills the screen.
“Babe, hey.”
His deep voice fills the Kappa Chi dining room, and I notice several of my sisters honest-to-God shiver.
“Sorry, I know you said you were in a meeting, but I just wanted to tell you—” He stops mid-sentence, his gray eyes narrowing with appreciation. “Mmmm, damn, T, you look good enough to eat.”
I’m not sure it’s humanly possible to blush harder than I currently am. I shove a hunk of hair behind my ear and grumble at the screen. “Seriously? That’s what you interrupted my meeting to say?”
“Nah, that wasn’t it.”
He offers a little boy grin and anyone with a clear view of my phone sighs and swoons like Victorian maidens.
“Then what was it?”
Conor winks. “Just wanted to tell you I miss you.”
“Oh my God,” breathes Rachel.
Damn. Someone’s laying it on thick. Before I can answer him, the phone is grabbed from his hand and a new face greets me.
“Taylor!” Matt Anderson exclaims happily. “Yo, when you coming over next? Foster found us a new movie to watch.”
“It’s got black holes and giant squids!” comes Foster’s faint shout.
“Soon, Matty,” I promise, then pray he doesn’t call me out for referring to him as Matty. But hell, if Conor’s allowed to lay it on thick, then so am I. “Anyway, I’m hanging up now. I’m busy.”
I disconnect the call, set down the phone, and find an entire room of wide-eyed girls staring at me with naked envy. Even Sasha seems impressed, and she’s in on the charade.
“I am so sorry,” I say awkwardly. “I’ll make sure he never interrupts during a meeting again.”
“All good,” Charlotte assures me. “We all know those hockey players are hard to say no to. Trust me, we know.”
The rest of the meeting continues without a hiccup, although it’s difficult to ignore the death stares coming from Abigail and Jules’s direction. Then Charlotte dismisses us with the clap of her manicured hands, chairs are scraped back, and everyone disperses. I bump into someone during the stampede, stepping away quickly when I realize it’s Rebecca Locke.
“Oh, sorry,” I tell the petite girl. “Didn’t see you there.”
“It’s fine,” she replies in a tight voice, and then darts off without another word.
As I watch her hurry upstairs, I sigh and wonder if things will ever get any less awkward between me and Rebecca. I was forced to kiss her during pledge week, and needless to say it was a mortifying experience for the both of us. We’ve spoken only a handful of times since and never been alone in the same room together.
“Wanna get some lunch?” Sasha links her arm through mine as we head for the front door.
“Sure,” I reply.
“Taylor, wait,” someone calls before we can leave the house.
I glance over my shoulder. Lisa Donaldson and Olivia Ling are sashaying toward us. “What’s up?” I say politely.
“You live in Hastings, right?” Lisa runs a hand through her glossy mane of hair.
“Yeah, why?” I ask, and then stand there trying to hid
e my shock as two chicks who’ve never given me the time of day explain how they’re in Hastings once or twice a week for their salon appointments and would love to grab a bite with me if I’m free Tuesday night.
“And you too, Sasha,” Olivia offers in what sounds like a genuine invitation. “Usually Beth and Robin and the boyfriends meet us at the diner too. It’s nice to leave campus and get a change of scenery sometimes, you know?”
“Even nicer to live off campus,” I say with a grin.
“I’d bet,” murmurs Lisa. Her gaze flicks toward Abigail, who’s whispering furiously with Jules in the far corner of the living room. Interesting. Maybe I’m not the only one considering voting for Dani.
After agreeing to meet the girls on Tuesday, Sasha and I exit the house. Outside, I breathe in the early spring air. Release a gust of it in a slow rush.
“Conor Fucking Edwards,” I mumble.
Sasha laughs softly. “The man’s good, I’ll give him that.”
“Too good. He even had me convinced he missed me, and I know that’s not true.” Hell, he had every Kappa in that room salivating over him. One FaceTime from him and suddenly they’re inviting me to dinner.
Conor had told me how much he loves games—well, today proved he’s highly skilled at them too. Problem is, I’m terrible at games. I always lose. And the longer this silly ruse with Conor goes on, the greater the danger of it all blowing up in my face.
9
Conor
There’s an eerie calm on the ice Tuesday morning as the team runs through drills. Hardly anyone says a word for two hours; only the sounds of our skates and Coach’s whistle echo through the empty arena.
The tournament brackets were announced yesterday. This weekend we face Minnesota Duluth in Buffalo, New York. No one wants to say it, but I think the matchup has everyone a bit spooked. The nerves are creeping in, and we’re all on edge and hyper-focused on our individual parts of the machine.
Hunter’s been staying late every day since we made the playoffs. He wants it bad. I think he sees it as a reflection on his success as captain, like it’s his job alone to win this for us and if he doesn’t, he’s a failure. Man, I could never do his job. I generally make it a rule to minimize expectations and not take on responsibility for anyone but myself.