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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.
Then I jump to my knees and put both hands on the top of the headboard. Taylor eyes me with suspicion, to which I just grin again and start thrusting my body, driving the headboard into the wall. Bang. Bang. Bang. “Fuck, babe, you’re so tight,” I groan out too loudly. Taylor slaps her hand over her mouth. Her dark-blonde eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “You feel so good!”
“You like that?” “I love it.” “Yeah?” “Oh, yeah, put it in my butt!” she begs. I collapse and hit my forehead on the fucking headboard. I stare at her, dumbstruck. “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.
“My mother didn’t raise a scoundrel, but I can be downright improper if you’re into it.”
“But T’s friend doesn’t believe we’re all hanging out. Hold on, let’s show receipts. Smile, boys.” Then he has the gall to snap a picture. My jaw drops when all four roommates flex their biceps for the camera.
“I just wanted to see you.”
My fake boyfriend is giving me a real lap dance.
“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.”
“I think you should let me kiss you.” “Because you were probably dropped on your head as a child,”
When I’m with her, I’m only watching Taylor. Something about her reels me in, and it’s not just the fact that my body is primed for her. Yes, I’d love to bang her brains out, but that’s not the reason I showed up at the diner uninvited earlier. Taylor Marsh has no idea how cool she is, and that’s a fucking shame.
“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.”
At one point, Conor’s teammates drag us into the toy store where they challenge a couple of middle-schoolers to a lightsaber fight before getting us kicked out
You’re the stuff of my fantasies.”
“Better than the years Garrett Graham and John Logan were on the roster?” Foster demands, naming two of Briar’s most famous alumni. Graham and Logan both play for the Bruins these days. “Let’s not be crazy now,” Coach replies,
“I mean this is Coach Jensen’s house. Forty-two Manchester Road.” “But this is Chad’s house.” A strangled laugh pops out. “Hey babe, let’s play a game—” “What are you babbling about?” “—It’s called ‘Guess Coach Jensen’s first name.’” There’s a beat. Then Taylor’s cheeks go pale. “Oh my God. IS IT CHAD?” “It’s Chad,”
She has no reason to feel insecure. She’s gorgeous. I don’t know, sometimes I just look at her and it hits me all over again. How hot she makes me, how badly I want her.
Did I just insinuate I’d marry Conor? Fuck.
I’m always going to pick my daughter over anything and anyone. It’s not even a question. You know that, right?” But there were times she didn’t, and we both know it.
Maybe I was the dare all along. Some bet with his teammates.
The guilt tore me up from the moment we stepped inside the house and I saw what Kai did. What I did.
I can’t stop seeing her face. The disappointed look in her eyes. Not Daisy, the little girl from my past. But Taylor, the woman of my present.

