Page 1 of Love.V2 (Occupational Hazards #2)

Prologue

Tess

The porch light was flickering and something smelled alarmingly like vomit. This was probably not the best idea, but I shoved aside the worried feeling in my gut. It hadn’t served me well up to this point in life, anyway.

“I’m fine,” I said. A suspiciously familiar-looking rubber hose poked out of the unkempt shrubs. “I only wanted you to know where I was.”

“Just stay where you are. Let me throw some jeans on and I’ll…

” Vanna’s voice devolved into a hacking cough on the other side of the phone.

Only two weeks into our first semester at Western Tennessee University and my roomie had caught some virus that was going around.

“You don’t even know anyone there,” she reminded me weakly when her coughing subsided.

“I know Dylan.” I bit my lip, willing myself to suppress the flush crawling up my cheeks in the beat of silence that followed.

Attending a college where I didn’t know a single person was as freeing as it was terrifying.

Thankfully, I’d won the roommate lottery with Vanna.

One look at my shy, quiet self and she’d taken me under her wing.

Her brash, outgoing personality meant she’d never met a stranger, and though I enjoyed how she’d kept an eye on me the last couple of weeks, I didn’t want a mother hen tonight.

“Dylan’s not a bad guy,” she hedged. Like Vanna, he already seemed to fit in perfectly at WTU.

People gave him fist bumps on the sidewalk.

Even our English teacher called on him more often than everyone else.

“But you don’t really know him, Tess. It’s dangerous to be at a college party by yourself. ”

Alright, so I didn’t technically know him. We’d only spoken once, two days ago, when he’d invited Vanna to this party and said, “Bring your friend, too. Tess, right?”

My stomach still fluttered thinking about it. He knew my name. God, it was pathetic.

I’d spent the last two weeks pining after Dylan Morris like a middle schooler in heat, and he’d invited me (however indirectly) to his house for a party. It was the kind of opportunity I’d promised myself I wouldn’t pass up.

“I’m going in,” I announced, already walking up the sidewalk.

“Don’t you dare go in there, Theresa Lynn Livingston, or I swear to God—” She erupted in a spasm of rattling coughs, which I used to my advantage.

“Lay back down before you choke on your own tongue. I’ll be safe. Don’t wait up, bye!” I practically yelled as I hung up. She was probably right, and this was a bad idea, but I’d made up my mind. I was going to my first ever college party. Tonight.

It wasn’t anything like I’d seen in the movies.

The little house on the edge of campus looked rundown.

Paint peeled from the drooping siding, but a faint thrum of bass met my ears as I made my way to the front door.

It swung open before I could knock, three girls leaving with angry looks on their faces.

“What a bust,” one of them grumbled, barely glancing at me as they passed. “What kind of frat dudes don’t know how to tap a keg?”

They muttered, teetering across the pavement in heels and flirty, ruffly skirts.

I glanced down at my Toms and thrifted lace tank top. Was I supposed to be wearing heels? I should have asked Vanna, but that would have meant telling her where I was going. She’d never have let me out the door if she’d known.

A few more people trickled past, all complaining and shaking their heads. I stood frozen on the front stoop, making myself as small as possible as they walked away. The party was a bust? And what was this about a keg?

I glanced around, locating that suspicious rubber hose I’d noticed earlier.

A bubble of anxiety crept up from my belly as I examined my shoes.

I probably shouldn’t be here. What was I thinking, crashing the party of a guy who very likely didn’t remember I existed?

Just because his eyes were like dark chocolate, and he made my body feel like a toasted marshmallow—all gooey and hot.

I blew out a breath, straightening my spine and picturing my list in my head, specifically the first line: “Go to a normal college party. Have fun.”

I plucked the rubber hose from the bushes and opened the door.

** *

Dylan

“I’m telling you, it’s not here,” Derrick insisted.

“The dude said it came with the keg!” Mac yelled in Derrick’s face, brandishing a receipt. Derrick bared his teeth.

“People are already leaving, guys. If we fuck this up…” another one of my brothers, Michael, muttered, his eyes darting around before landing on me.

He didn’t need to finish that sentence. Having the new pledges throw a party to kick off the school year was a time-honored Epsilon tradition. If it tanked, we’d have hell to pay.

“Alright, um…” I looked around the kitchen again, hoping a miracle would appear.

“Are you guys looking for this?” I could barely hear her soft voice over all the noise, but when I looked up, there she was. Tess Livingston. She had come. And she was holding the beer tap.

Mac raised his fists in the air, bellowing, “BEER ANGEL!!” Tess winced at the raucous chorus of cheers that followed, the crowd pushing her forward into the kitchen, chanting “beer angel!”

“Give her some space, guys. Back up.” I glared at a dude who was getting too close, and he stumbled backwards, probably already a few drinks deep.

I reached for Tess’s elbow, guiding her through the packed bodies in the living room.

The kitchen wasn’t much better, but at least it was just my brothers in there, and I could trust them not to trample her.

Her skin was silky under my fingertips, and I wanted to stroke her. I was pathetic. Two weeks ago, I’d sat behind her in English class and noticed an incredible sketch of the quad poking out of her notebook. I’d leaned over to compliment the work and stopped dead in my tracks.

She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. Her light blonde hair, big blue eyes, and delicate features made her look like an actual angel, or a fairy, or something. That she was beautiful and possessed an incredible artistic talent was pretty much all I knew about her.

She was quiet, shy even. I’d resorted to befriending her roommate to get a little closer to her. And holy shit, the far-fetched plan had worked. Here she was in our frat house kitchen, clutching a keg tap like a lifeline.

“You’re a hero.” I gently squeezed her arm.

“Hardly. I just found this in the bushes out front. Figured you might need it.” She shoved the tap into my hands without meeting my eyes.

A pink blush spread across her peaches-and-cream cheeks, probably from all the attention.

She hated being called on in class, curling up in her chair whenever our professor was about to ask a question.

I always tried to answer before he could get to her.

I was on track to receive a stellar participation grade in English.

“Beer Angel,” Mac whispered again, reaching over to grab the tap. The party surged closer at the promise of alcohol, pushing Tess into me. I dropped her arm to reach around her waist, pulling her out of the way of another party dude, glaring at him for good measure.

“Oh, um, excuse me,” Tess whispered, rigid.

“Sorry, it’s a little crazy in here. Don’t want you to get run over.”

“Thanks.” She finally looked up, her round, ocean eyes meeting mine like a clap of thunder. The corner of her pink lips curled upwards, and I realized I was staring .

“It won’t explode, right?” Michael’s uneasiness thankfully gave me something to look at other than her.

We all stared at the keg for a beat of silence. I was ninety-nine percent sure it wouldn’t explode, but I’d never tapped a keg before. Our older fraternity brothers usually did the honors.

“You guys don’t know how…?” Tess trailed off when we all looked at her. Her blush deepened. It would be weird to tell them all to look away, right? Yes. Right.

“I mean, we could probably figure it out?” Derrick looked about as confident as he sounded.

“I don’t know, man. Will it explode?” Mac asked Tess, like she had the answer. She paused, looking around, before sighing and reaching her hand out for the tap.

“Line the threads up here. Make sure this is released.” She did something with a lever, pointing to the top of the keg. After a quick twist, she straightened. “Done.”

I stared. We all stared. Then Mac’s guttural cry of “ BEER ANGELLLLLLLL !” rang out with ear-splitting volume. The rest of the party followed suit, flying into a frenzy with Tess at the center. When her shoulders hunched over, I gave into my baser instincts and pulled her closer.

“Here.” I took the red plastic cup from Mac’s hand when it was half-full. “You deserve the first cup.”

“FIRST CUP TO THE BEER ANGEL!” Mac roared.

“Alright.” I gave him a quelling look, which he read in the blink of an eye, turning to scream. “And next cup to someone else! ”

Everyone’s focus shifted in an instant as my brothers rushed to hand out cups.

Someone cranked up the volume on the speakers in the living room, and I felt a lifetime’s worth of pressure lift off my shoulders.

We’d done it. Party in full swing. And it was all thanks to the Beer Angel in front of me.

She was staring at the cup in her hands, looking uneasy.

“Too much foam?”

“I have a confession,” she whispered, long lashes lowering.

“Your secret will be safe with me,” I whispered back, taking a half-step toward her and enjoying when she didn’t step away. In fact, she only craned closer, rising to her tip-toes and cupping her hand around my ear. Goosebumps erupted down my neck. Pitiful .

“I hate beer.”

Between my body’s ridiculous reaction to her closeness and the din of the kitchen, it took me a moment to understand what she’d just said. “You know how to tap a keg, but you don’t drink beer?”

She shrugged. “Is that weird?”