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She comes right up, grabs my arm and yanks me down so she can speak in my ear. “I’m so sorry for this and you’re going to think I’m a total psycho, but I need your help so please just play along,” she babbles, so fast I’m having a hard time keeping up. “I
“It’s a stupid dare and I’ll owe you a major favor if you could do me this solid,” she whispers rapidly. “I promise I won’t be weird about it.”
“Is that a yes?” she murmurs. In answer, I sweep a few strands of hair behind her ear and brush my lips against her skin to speak. Because whoever is torturing this poor girl is certainly watching us right now and they can eat shit. “Lead the way, babe.”
I grin at her visible nervousness. It’s cute.
“I’m Conor, by the way.” She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know.” “What’s the eyeroll for?” I ask, playing wounded.
“Because Abigail is a grade-A bitch. I hate her so much.” “Why’s that? What’s the story there?” She slides a dubious look toward me, clearly debating whether to trust me. “Cross my heart,” I say. “This is a safe space.”
“What? Too much?” she asks me, all wide-eyed innocent. This fucking girl. She’s something else. “Yeah, dial it back a little,” I croak.
For a fleeting moment, I think she wants me to kiss her. Then she blinks, and the moment’s gone. “Conor Edwards, you’re a decent guy.”
Which is even more reason to get the hell out of here before I catch feelings. Because Conor Edwards is absolutely the guy you fall for before you learn that girls like me don’t get guys like him.
“Stay awhile. Help me keep my reputation intact.” “You don’t need me to protect your ego. Don’t worry, they’ll assume you got bored of me.” “I do get bored easily,” he agrees, “but you’re in luck, T. Boredom is the last thing I’m feeling right now. You’re the most interesting person I’ve spoken to in ages.” “You must not get out much,” I crack.
“C’mon, stay and talk with me.” “What about your friends?” I remind him. “I see them every day at practice.” His thumb rubs a gentle circle over the inside of my wrist, and I’m done for. “Taylor. Please stay.”
“What do you want to know?” “Anything. Everything.”
She was the prize; I was the stale cereal forgotten in the cupboard.” “You’re not stale cereal,” I tell him.
“Dude, what if your dad was into some serious spy shit? And the KGB found out he was a CIA asset, so they had him whacked?” “Whacked? I think you’re confusing your euphemisms. Mobs whack people. And I’m not sure the KGB is still a thing.”
Laughing, he climbs back on the bed. “Don’t worry, babe, I got you.” I crack a smile. “Or, second, I’d have to kill you for discovering my secret.” “Or, or, hear me out: you take me on as your muscle and handsome sidekick and we hit the road as soldiers of fortune.”
“You’re ridiculously attractive, Taylor.” This time when he speaks, I don’t doubt his sincerity, if perhaps his sanity. I suppose someone like him doesn’t get around so much by being picky. “Don’t spend any more time believing otherwise.” For the next few hours, I don’t. Instead, I give myself permission to pretend that someone like Conor Edwards is actually into me.
“Hey, Coach?” Hunter speaks up. He sighs, cringing. “The guys were wondering if we could get an update on the mascot situation.” “The pig? You idiots are still on about the damn pig?” “Uh, yeah. In the absence of Pablo Eggscobar, some of the boys are experiencing withdrawals.” I snicker under my breath. Not gonna lie, I kinda miss our stupid egg mascot too. He was a cool dude.
“I promise I’m not a weirdo, but I need your help and I won’t touch your penis. Just go with it, T.” I pull back to meet his eyes, glimpsing a gleam of urgency and a twinkle of humor. I’m still not sure what’s going on, though. Is he trying to get back at me for what I did to him last weekend? Is it a joke? A silly callback?
My heart melts a little. The world doesn’t deserve Conor Edwards. “Get lost, Captain,” Conor drawls without turning around. “I’m wooing my woman.” I swallow a laugh. He winks at me and squeezes my hand in reassurance.
“Fine,” I finally relent, shrugging. To appear even more aloof, I sort of gaze off toward the stage, as if I’m bored with this entire exchange. “One date. I guess.” His entire face lights up. “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret it.” I already do.
ME: Not a prank, I swear. HER: You’re actually at his HOUSE???? ME: Swear on my signed poster of Ariana Grande.
When the movie ends, the guys are gunning for a scary one next, but Conor says he doesn’t feel like another film and tugs me off the sofa. “C’mon,” he drawls, and my heart does a couple more backflips. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“No.” I meet his gaze head-on. “Tell me why you did what you did at the alumni banquet.” On a deep sigh he rubs his hands over his face and combs his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.” The confession comes out in a mumble. “I’m a big girl. If you respect me, tell me the truth.” “Damn, T. Right in the fucking feels.”
“Shut up your whole face.” I laugh. He doesn’t laugh with me. Rather, he gets off the bed and turns his back to me.
“Taylor.” Conor rakes both hands through his hair. “Taylor, stop laughing at me.” “I can’t!” “You’re doing irreparable harm to my ego here.” Gasping, I take deep breaths. Eventually, the laughter subsides to giggles. “Thank you,” I manage to croak out. “I needed that.”
“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.”
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.
“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.”
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.”
“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.”
“Taylor Marsh, will you do me the incredible honor of updating your relationship status and becoming my fake girlfriend?”
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—
Outside, I breathe in the early spring air. Release a gust of it in a slow rush. “Conor Fucking Edwards,” I mumble.
I turn around to see what’s got them in such a fit. Conor Fucking Edwards.
All six feet and two inches of him comes striding through the diner toward our table. He’s in his black-and-silver Briar Hockey jacket and a pair of dark-blue jeans that hug his long legs. Steely gray eyes sparkle with mischief as he combs one hand through his long blond hair. When his gaze lands on me, the excitement in his full, broad smile does a number on my head. And my pulse. Oh Lord. Men shouldn’t get to be so pretty.
“Wait, I know you. Brenna Jensen. You’re going out with Jake Connelly!” Lisa suddenly blurts out. The dark-haired goddess narrows her eyes. “Yeah, so?” “So, that’s…you’re so lucky,” breathes Lisa. “Jake Connelly is…” “Is what?” her boyfriend Cory demands, his tone revealing he’s officially fed up with the way his girl has been acting all night. “Finish that sentence, Lisa—he’s what?” I think Lisa knows she’s pushed him too far, because she backpedals as if it’s an Olympic event. “He’s one of the best players in the NHL,” she finishes. “One of?” Brenna mocks. “No, honey, he’s the best.”
“I didn’t come out tonight because of who’s watching. I came because I was sitting at home thinking about you and I couldn’t stand it another minute.”
“Honest to God truth. I like being around you. I like talking to you.” “Then why do something so stupid and screw it all up by trying to kiss me?” “Because I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss you and I was afraid we might never find out.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Figured if I tried it in public, I had a better shot, ’cause then you might kiss me back for appearances.” “That’s a dumb reason.” “I know.” Tentatively, he takes a step toward me.
“I don’t know where to go from here,” I start awkwardly, “except that maybe it’d be better if we didn’t hang out anymore.” “No.” “No?” “Yeah, I veto that suggestion.” “You don’t get a veto. If I say I don’t want to hang out with you anymore, then tough shit. That’s the way it is.” “I think you should let me kiss you.” “Because you were probably dropped on your head as a child,” I snap back. At that, Conor cracks a smile. He lets out a breath and squeezes my hand, then places it against his chest. Beneath my palm, his heart is pounding hard.
“Come home with me tonight,” Conor Fucking Edwards whispers.
“Then what’s wrong?” I press. “It’s just…” She lets out a sigh. “I mean, think about all those people at the bar looking at us.” Frankly, I didn’t even notice anyone else. When I’m with her, I’m only watching Taylor.
“So what? I don’t give a shit what other people think.” I don’t live my life on the basis of other people’s opinions or to please anyone but myself. If she’d just fucking let me, I’d like to try pleasing Taylor, too. “Well, maybe you should. Because I can assure you, they’re not thinking nice things about us.”
My next breath comes out ragged, frustrated. “I’ll keep saying this until it sinks in, but there’s nothing wrong with you, Taylor. There isn’t some arbitrary hierarchy between us. I want you. I’ve wanted you since the moment I watched you cross the room at that party.” Her turquoise eyes widen slightly. “I mean it,” I say.
The screen lights up. CONOR: Yeah. ME: Coming over, k? CONOR: Yeah.
“I was shitty to you the other night,” I say ruefully. “And I’m sorry. You were right—I was embarrassed. I don’t like attention—good or bad. So having a room full of people staring at me is like the fucking worst. But you only did that silly lap dance because you thought you were saving me from a much worse fate, and I didn’t thank you or at least give you some credit for trying. That wasn’t fair. And then with the…”
“Yeah, no, that one was all you, jerkface. You shoulda known better.” “Trust me, I know. I already got an earful from both Demi and Summer. Friends’ girlfriends,” he clarifies when he notices my blank look. “You talked to your friends’ girlfriends about our fight?” For some reason, I’m oddly touched. “Yeah.” He shrugs adorably. “Needed someone to tell me where I fucked up. Apparently the clothing critique was a crime against your womanhood.”
He flashes that cheeky smile that never fails to make my heart race. “Forgive me?” “You’re forgiven.” I pause. “Forgive me for bitching out on you?” “You’re forgiven.” Tentatively, he stands, inching toward me. He towers over me with his athletic frame. “So. Friends again?” “Friends.”
“Take my Jeep.” Conor tosses the washcloth in his laundry hamper. “What?” “Yeah, come to my game,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “You drive down to Buffalo in my Jeep and I’ll ask Coach for permission to skip out on the bus ride back. We can stay an extra night and go shopping, hang out, whatever.” “Are you sure? I feel like that’s a big ask.” He aims his crooked smirk at me. Pulling out the heavy artillery, I see. “If we win, I want you there to celebrate with us. If we lose, you can get me drunk and help me feel better.”
“I suck at dancing,” Taylor tells me as I gather her into my arms. “Don’t care,” I mutter. I just want to touch her, hold her.
“Just don’t let me look stupid,” she says, finding it easier to speak in my ear now that she’s wearing heels. “Never.”
