Contents
Dedication
Copyright
Synopsis
Chapter One - Bricks and Books
Chapter Two - VDDM
Chapter Three - Clubbing
Chapter Four - Embrasse-Moi
Chapter Five - The Heart, What it Wants
Chapter Six - C'est la Vie
Chapter Seven - One and Two, You and You
Chapter Eight - Tender
Chapter Nine - Saints and Sinners
Chapter Ten - Just like the First Time
Chapter Eleven - Every Little Beat
Chapter Twelve - Goodbye
TBC
Dedicated to my BFF, who totally shouldn’t read the sex scenes. I mean it.
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The Valentine’s Dare is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2015 Nicolette Owens
First Edition ebook
The Valentine’s Dare
Kierra Adair has more than had enough of February 14th. To this college sophomore, the date is nothing but a black mark on her romantic past, leading to heartbreak and disappointment on an annual basis. So when her college house asks for a volunteer to be the Valentine’s Day Designated Matchmaker, she jumps at the chance to remove herself from the dating pool. What better way to celebrate love than to arrange it for her two best friends?
Suave senior Mason Pryor has other plans for Kierra. Every year, he’s made it his mission to charm the VDDM into breaking her no-dating matchmaker vow, and every year he’s succeeded so well that the boys of Sycamore House have a betting pool running on his success. This year will be no exception - especially with $1,000 and his reputation on the line. But Kierra is a tough nut to crack, and he’ll soon find himself wanting more than just a one-day date from this gorgeous, sarcastic, and vulnerable woman.
Kierra is having none of his wiles - even though he is the kindest, funniest guy to show interest in her, and he makes her smile. Just when she’s about to give in and let him in, a darkness from her past returns to remind her why she swore off love…
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Please consider updating your edition to the revised, second edition manuscript to be released after the publication date.
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CHAPTER ONE
Bricks and Books
“What did I pack in this, my brick collection?” Kierra groaned as she tried - and failed - to pick up a particularly heavy box. “Whatever is in here, I don’t need it. I’m getting rid of it right now. Leave it here.”
Lacy turned her head to read the messy upside-down scrawl on the outside of the box. “Rook… collection? I didn’t know you played chess, Kierra.”
“Books,” Leila said, grabbing the box and picking it up like it was nothing. “Book collection.”
“Oh.” Lacy blinked her wide blue eyes, then shrugged and pushed a tuft of downy pink hair behind her ear. “That makes a lot more sense.”
Kierra watched Leila carry the crazy-heavy box and one other, smaller box besides down the stairs and out to her car. She thought briefly of helping her freakishly strong friend, but quickly dismissed the thought in favor of sitting on the couch and doing nothing. After all, someone has to, she thought, taking a seat with a sigh.
“So,” Lacy said, crossing her arms and surveying the near-empty room Kierra had once lived in, “are you going to miss living by yourself?”
“And eating in the Elm House mess hall? Fuck no. They have vegan gluten-free Wednesdays, Lace.” She shuddered at the thought. Rabbits have eaten better than Elm House residents. “It’s a jungle out there. A deodorant-free, clay-eating, white-people-with-dreads jungle. Plus, I’m excited to live with you two.”
“Oh, me too!” gushed Lacy, clapping her hands like a little girl. “We’ll have movie marathons, and eat snacks, and we’ll get along really well!”
Kierra couldn’t help but smile at her short, bouncy, fun-loving friend. “You don’t think we’ll get on each others nerves?”
Lacy thought, then frowned. “You don’t chew loudly, do you?”
Leila reentered the room then, giving Kierra the evil eye for just sitting there. It was all Kierra could do not to squeak and duck for cover under those disapproving brown eyes. The tall one of the three, Leila could be intimidating when she chose to be. “Lace hates the sounds people make when they chew. She once punched me in the head for eating tortilla chips, carrots, and cinnamon candies all in one day.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that when I don’t need sustenance to survive.” Kierra stood up, trying to pretend like she wasn’t doing it just because Leila had glared at her. “This is all of it, right?”
“There’s just one box left.” Lacy pointed under the couch. “What’s that?”
Oh no, Kierra thought, realizing she hadn’t gotten rid of that before winter break. God, the last thing I want is that shit. “Just leave it!” she said, waving Lacy away from the couch. “No one needs to look at it or open it up or anything like that, just leave it there as a gift for the next person who lives here. Okay let’s go c’mon out the door okay-“
“I’ll get it.” Pushing past her, Leila knelt beside the couch and grabbed the box, unintimidated by Kierra’s mumbling and feeble hand-waving. “You didn’t.”
Cringing, Kierra shook her head. “No, I definitely didn’t. Who would keep a box of stuff dedicated to a relationship with their shithead of an ex-boyfriend? Not me, oh no.”
Leila opened up the box and stared down inside it. Kierra couldn’t look, but even with her eyes averted she could see the black leather jacket, old T-shirt, copy of Catcher in the Rye, and an infinity scarf he’d given her for her birthday.
“It’s okay, Kierra,” Leila said, closing the box and picking it up. “I don’t expect you to throw away everything that asswipe gave you.”
Kierra looked at her, puzzled. “You didn’t?”
“Now we get to burn it instead.”
One thing about burning you ex-boyfriend’s shit: it’s really only satisfying if you’re at least a little bit tipsy.
Kierra found herself standing in Leila and Lacy’s apartment-style dorm - really, her apartment-style dorm - staring at a cupboard full of empty liquor bottles.
“Remind me again why you keep them after all the good stuff is gone?”
“So we remember which ones we liked,” Lacy said, rummaging through the bottles for one that still had something in it. “I swear we don’t have an alcohol problem.”
“She swears she doesn’t. I acknowledge nothing to that affect,” Leila said, tossing her glossy back hair over one shoulder, a frown on her face. “I think all we have is-“
“Ah-ha! Baileys!” Lacy pulled the little bottle out with a squeal of triumph. “Now what to mix with it?”
“Like I was about to say, all we have is Baileys and cocoa.”
Nose wrinkling, Kierra shook her head. “I hate hot drinks.”
“It’s like 30 degrees outside. 30 fucking degrees.” Lacy looked at her peculiarly. “I didn’t know you hate hot drinks.”
“Put some ice in it.”
Leila yanked the Baileys out of Lacy’s hand and grabbed a box full of cocoa packets, getting to work with the drink mixer and the microwave. Within minutes they had three steaming mugs of Irish coffee - and a handful of ice cubes for Kierra. This can’t be the way you’re supposed to do it, she thought, dropping the cubes in and watching them water down her now-lukewarm drink.
Sighing in delight, Lacy closed her eyes and savored her own drink, then whipped them open and turned them on Kierra. “Do you have the matches?”
Kierra patted her jacket pocket. “Check.”
“Box of shithead’s shit?”
Leila picked it up and carried it on her hip, mug in the other hand. “Also check.”
“Let go make some mothafuckin’ fire.”
They did it out in the courtyard, sheltered from the cold rain beneath the eaves of the house roof. It was easy enough to empty a trash can and throw all of Brooks' stuff inside it. Kierra lit the match, thinking of their history and the memories she had of him for a while; and then she dropped it in, enjoying the satisfying feeling of the flames consuming her past.
The burning leather jacket smelled funny. Kierra took another sip of her lukewarm Irish coffee only to find she’d drained it all.
“My liquor is gone.” Frowning, she turned the cup upside down. “Do you think we can get high off the fumes?”
“Don’t go down that road,” Lacy said, pulling her back from the fire. “Is it just me, or does the fire smell funny?
Leaning forward, Leila took a whiff of it. “Totally. It smells like my grandmother’s feet.”
Kierra stared at her. “Okay weirdo. Lay off the analogies for a bit and maybe stop smelling old lady feet.”
“I feel like we should be chanting something.” Lacy screwed up her forehead in thought. “What’s Latin for ‘burn this jerkwad’s penis off along with his stupid things,’ or whatever?”
“Alohomora carpe diem,” Kierra said.
“Really?”
“No.”
Just then Kierra saw three figures on the other side of the courtyard, leaving the dorms well after weekday curfew. “Who’s that? And couldn’t they get in trouble?”
“That’s Mason Pryor and his friends. Tch. No one reports them - they’re the most popular seniors in all of Sycamore House. Plus Frankie is the Head of House. His dad is an Arterberry alum.”
Kierra whistled. “Do you mean Mason Pryor, one of the hottest guys at Arterberry University? That Mason Pryor?”
“The guy you turned down last year because you were with Brooks? Yeah, that’s the guy.” Leila tossed her black hair over one shoulder. “You a bobo, missy,” she said, using the Spanish nickname for “idiot.” Leila’s mother was Hispanic, lending her dark beauty and a penchant for watching telenovelas and using Spanish insults.
“I guess it was kind of dumb, turning down Mason.” It had happened in a coffee shop near campus. Brooks was supposed to meet her there, but instead he stood her up for an hour and a half. Seeing her there, Mason had come over and made her laugh - then asked for her number. “I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d dumped Brooks then and there and said yes to Mason.”
“I hear he has a bet going,” Lacy said, using her penchant for suddenly changing subjects.
“What are you talking about? A bet?”
“Something Mason does every year involving the Valentine’s Day Dance. I don’t know what it is, though.” Lacy shrugged.
“Hey - the fire is going out.” Leila kicked the trash can, staring at the refuse inside. “Do you think that’s burned enough?”
Kierra peered at the blackened, crumbled husk of what used to be her ex-boyfriend’s things. The stuff was ashes, but all the memories still stuck around: the times he’d let her down, the lies he’d told, how incredibly gullible he had made her. Through it all, the one thing she’d believed the most was that if she just loved him good enough and long enough, Brooks would change. He’d get better, and give her what she needed. I’m never dating a guy like that again. Now is a time for friends and classes, not assholes who take all my time and energy. Did she think it was burned enough? There wasn’t a fire in the world that could burn bright enough to cleanse her past with him.
“I think I’m cold and we should go inside.”
CHAPTER TWO
VDDM
“Alright, let’s move on to new residents. We have just… one transfer this semester,” Frankie scanned the clipboard in his hand. “Kierra Adair?”
“Here.” Raising her hand, Kierra glanced around at the other 80 residents in the room. This isn’t embarrassing or anything.
It was the winter semester orientation, held the Sunday before classes started back up, and apparently Kierra was supposed to be introduced to everyone. The whole thing sort of weirded her out, but Sycamore House was known for its community, a lot like Elm House was known for its crunchy animal rights activists.
“Okay Kierra, welcome to Sycamore House. As you may or may not know, we have clubs that set up events every semester, and we encourage people to sign up and participate. So if you hear anything during this meeting that sounds interesting, feel free to sign up.”
“Okay.” Kierra smiled nervously, noticing Mason Pryor sitting in the front, casually leaned over to talk in a friend’s ear. His dark hair suited him, setting off his handsome face and the black T-shirt he was wearing. She had to tear her eyes away from him and back to Frankie. “I’ll, uh, be sure to participate and such.”
“Great.” Frankie thankfully moved on, covering mess hall hours and the room waiting list. She drifted off, catching bits of what he was talking about, her eyes constantly sliding over to stare at the back of Mason’s head. Sure he looks cute, she thought, but I’m sure he’s a womanizing liar, just like Brooks. No guy with looks like that is anything but an asshole. He could get any Arterberry girl he wanted - and no doubt he’d had plenty of them.
“He’s talking about the fourth floor apartment, listen up,” Leila hissed, elbowing Kierra in the ribs.
“Ow! What about the fourth floor?”
“They’re the best apartments,” Lacey murmured, leaning in. “Four separate bedrooms and a full kitchen. They even have their own bathroom instead of sharing one with a neighbor! We’re definitely going to get one for next year. You have to volunteer for one of the events, it’s how you get extra points to move you up the waiting list.”
A private bathroom did sound pretty nice; no more elbowing a next-door-neighbor away from the sink so she could wash her hands and brush her teeth.
“Speaking of the fourth floor apartments, the Valentine’s Day Dance is coming up in a month, and you know how I like to plan things.”
“Lame!” yelled the guy sitting next to Mason, laughing.
“Very funny, Thomas. Anyway, we’re looking for this year’s Matchmaker.”
Kierra frowned. “Matchmaker? That sounds familiar,” she murmured to Lacy.
“Just listen, Frankie has a whole spiel about everything. He likes to hear himself talk.”
“Every year, we run into the same problem with our Valentine’s Day Dance: there are 81 residents of the Sycamore House, traditionally 41 girls and 40 guys. Unlike the other houses, we run our dance as a blind date night for residents only, which gives us a chance to mix, mingle, and meet new people.”
The alliteration was enough to make Kierra choke on held-in laughter.
“Of course, there’s one girl left out.”
“Heteronormative,” muttered Leila, using her favorite new word from Gender and Sexuality Studies 101.
“In order to solve this problem on this-“ Frankie gave Leila a pointed look, “friendly an
d not-always-sexual date night, we set up the position of Valentine’s Day Dance Matchmaker, or the Matchmaker, five years ago. One girl volunteers to coordinate the dance and set everyone up so the pairs are even. She sets the seating chart and hands out numbered ribbons so that at the dance, everyone can find their matching pair. Every year, she gets a prize for sitting out and doing all the hard work. This year, we have a very special prize.”
Frankie paused for what he obviously thought would be dramatic effect, but instead all he got was silence and a few coughs. Kierra raised her hand, a question occurring to her. “Yes, Kierra?”
“So what you’re saying is, if we’re not the Matchmaker, we’re definitely going to be set up?”
“That’s correct. No one is alone on February 14th, not in Sycamore House. Of course, we have the dance early so there’s plenty of time for a date afterwards. No worries if you already have a significant other.”
“I volunteer.” Kierra felt like she was in Panem by the looks all the other residents suddenly gave her, turning in their seats.
“What are you doing?” hissed Lacy, while Leila punched her in the arm.
“But I haven’t even said what the prize is.” Frankie sounded clearly put off by having his big moment interrupted.
“Right. Well. Uh, what is it?” Kierra shifted uncomfortably under all the attention.
Frankie cleared his throat. “This year, the Valentine’s Day Dance Matchmaker will be awarded the guaranteed top of the list position on the residency wait list for their choice of apartment - including, yes, a fourth floor unit.”
Lacy gasped. “Do it, do it!”
“I already volunteered,” she muttered, then stood up, speaking out to the whole room. “I’ll do it. I’ll be the matchmaker. I may not know everyone yet, but I can figure it out. I planned the Elm House Gender Bender Ball last semester. If I can handle a crossdressing dance I’m sure I can do a regular one.”
The Valentine's Dare (The Sycamore Serial Book 1) Page 1