Page 13

Taylor

Dressed in heels and short skirts, Bex and I command attention. We tower over the girls we pass on the sidewalk and even some guys. Bex looks uncomfortable in her clothing.

She tugs at the short skirt riding up her long legs, and her face twists in frustration. “Why did you make me wear this, Tay? I feel like Julia Roberts in the movie Pretty Woman.”

“I guess I should start calling you Vivian Ward,” I say laughing. Because that was Julia Roberts’s name in that movie.

She cocks an eyebrow at me. “You’re fucking weird. Good thing you’re my best friend.”

We walk from our dormitory to Greek Row, where hoards of drunken people pour out from the massive Victorian homes. Thankfully, we’re headed one block over. Though, when we get there, the street where all the athletes live isn’t much better.

Drake’s house has high pillars, a long covered porch, and like the others, a lawn littered with trash. They scatter crushed plastic cups along the walkaway up to the stairs. Unlike the frat houses, no one is standing outside to collect money or hand out cups.

Once inside the house, I spot Drake. It’s easy to find him in a crowd.

He must be close to seven feet tall, his arms ripped with muscle and covered in dark tattoos.

My stomach churns when I see him talking to other girls.

Standing next to Tucker Kane, he lifts a red Solo cup to his mouth, looking bored with the conversation.

Why am I so jealous right now? I’m the one who told him we can’t be together.

Our relationship is only a secret because of his reputation.

So, why do I feel like I’m the one who’s suffering here?

Probably because no guys are throwing themselves at me like these skanks are with him.

Not like that would make a difference. Unwanted attention from the wrong guys won’t fix the nagging sensation in the pit of my stomach.

“Help me find Preston,” Bex says, slipping her fingers between mine.

She leads me through the living room. Couples make out on a sectional couch. We find a similar situation in the dining room. People are even hooking up on their table. Ugh, have some decency, people.

When we reach Drake and Tucker, my throat just about closes up.

Or at least it feels like it might when Drake’s blue eyes meet mine.

I’m paralyzed by the desire written on his face.

He looks at me like he could devour me in front of everyone.

Like he’s thinking about bending me over the dining room table.

I lick my lips, not realizing what I’m doing until I hear one girl make a snarky comment. Apparently, these hookers think they’ve claimed Drake for the night. What they don’t realize is that he’s already mine.

Back off, bitches.

Instead of approaching me, he leans back against the wall in the dining room and tilts his cup to his mouth, his eyes fixed on me. He knows the rules. Keeping our distance is crucial if we will make this behind-closed-door friends-with-some-benefits relationship work.

“Hey,” Bex says to the guys. “Have you seen Preston?”

Tucker runs his hand through his blond spikes, a sexy-as-fuck look on his handsome face.

If he doesn’t make it pro, Tucker sure as hell could model.

Of all the guys, he seems to rely the most on his looks.

Shockingly, I don’t see his twin brother anywhere.

They’re usually together with Drake somewhere close by.

“He’s in the kitchen with Jamie and Shannon,” Tucker says.

“Shannon’s here. Let’s go see what she’s up to,” I say to Bex.

Shannon is the perfect excuse for me to walk away.

I can’t stand seeing Drake acting so fucking cool and unaffected while I’m dying on the inside.

This whole encounter is awkward. The blonde bombshell on Drake’s right hasn’t stopped grilling me since I laid eyes on him.

Her dress is so short, I swear I can see her ass cheeks.

Stephanie Carter, the redhead with big tits on his left, hasn’t stopped trying to touch him.

I hate her with a passion. She’s one of the biggest whores on campus.

I’m surprised she’s not hoeing it up on Greek Row instead.

When she drags her fingers down his tattooed arm, I want to punch her in the face.

Grinding my teeth, I try to suppress my rage.

All of my dad’s martial arts training comes to mind.

Nope, I will not let her win. She won’t get Drake.

Because I know the truth about him, and I can see through all the bullshit.

His entire persona is a sham. At the end of the night, he’ll look for me—not Stephanie fucking Carter.

In Drake’s defense, he’s been wiggling away from her the entire time. He only has eyes for me. I know he does. But fuck me for being a jealous little bitch right now.

“We’ll see you guys later,” Bex says after a long pause, and then I tug on Bex’s hand to lead her into the kitchen.

Once inside, she pushes me toward the corner and lowers her voice. “What was that about?”

I shrug off her concern, barely able to catch my breath. My heart is racing so fast it could jump out of my chest and make a run for it. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” she spits back. “You looked like you would kill those girls, and I’m sure everyone noticed.”

“I hate seeing him with other girls,” I admit. “Especially those girls. He’s mine.”

“Then go claim him, Tay.” She throws her arm out at her side, pointing at the living room. “What are you doing in here with me?”

“I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us.”

“But you like Drake. Stop being an idiot and go talk to him.”

“Here, I thought it was my job to give the advice in this relationship,” I quip.

She frowns, crossing her arms over her chest, and I continue, “I don’t want a target on my back, Bex.

It’s better this way if people don’t know about us.

Trust me. And with The Queen fucking with everyone’s life, I don’t want my name in one of her posts. ”

Preston appears out of nowhere with three cups of beer in his hands. “Hey, babe,” he says to Bex, kissing her on her forehead. “Take one of these.” He holds out the drinks to us, which we gladly accept.

“Thanks, Parker,” I say as Bex cuddles up at his side.

He nods in acknowledgment.

They look so damn cute together. I’m glad she’s finally embracing a relationship with him.

If only I could be with Drake in a more public setting without everyone looking at us.

I hate the fact we have to hide how we feel about each other from the world.

But it’s his stupid-ass fault for showing off his goods to anyone who will look.

If not for that, I would stand next to him right now.

Chugging my beer, I scan the room for Shannon. Bex and Preston are too busy whispering shit in each other’s ear to notice me. And since I can’t latch onto Drake, I might as well seek our new friend.

By the time I cross the kitchen, I need another beer. Damn, I drank that in like three gulps. With how fast my heart is beating, I could use a lot of beer. Drake has me so on edge without even speaking to me. And maybe that’s why I’m such a mess.

He could have at least said something to quell the tension between us. Instead, he stood there like an Adonis giant, peeking at me beneath his long, dark lashes.

After I refill my cup from the keg, I head over to where Shannon’s hanging out with Jamie and two of her sorority sisters.

Killian Kade is on Jade Westbrook’s right, though he seems to keep his distance.

Something weird is definitely going on between them.

I can tell by the tension that hangs in the air like it does with Drake and me.

“We have to get going,” I hear Killian say to Jamie. He leans into his ear and whispers something. Jamie nods, and then Killian and Jade are moving through the crowd, headed out of the kitchen.

So, they’re definitely together. Interesting. This is the first time I’ve seen Killian with a girl on campus. He usually keeps to himself and rarely attends parties. Jade is on the quiet side too, so I can see how the two of them would get along.

Jemma Walcott smiles at me.

“Hey,” I say. “You’re Jordan’s sister. Jemma, right?”

She nods.

Everyone on campus knows Jordan Walcott. She’s the vice president of Kappa Delta, the sorority Shannon and Jemma are both in, and is the life of every party. I’m surprised to see Jemma without Jordan.

“How are you liking Strick U? I bet it’s different from… Where are you guys from?”

Somewhere with cows? I know their family owns Walcott Dairy. We literally drink the milk her family produces.

“Lancaster,” she offers. “It’s about two hours from here.”

“When I lived in Germany, I got to spend the weekend at a farm for a school project. I learned how to milk a cow.”

“You lived in Germany?” Shannon interjects, her voice reaching a higher octave.

“They stationed my dad at Panzer Kaserne when I was in middle school. We lived there for a few years.”

“So, you’re an army brat?” She shifts her hands to her hips and leans closer.

I shake my head. “Nope. Marine Corps. My dad is a retired Colonel. He’s an electrical engineer by trade. Now, he works for Lockheed Martin out in Southern California. That’s where my family lives… for now.”

I never knew when I would move next. It’s nice to have a place I call home. But how long will Calabasas be home for us? It’s hard to say with my dad. He has this constant restlessness that makes me wonder if he’ll one day take a job halfway around the world and expect all of us to move with him.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Shannon coos.

Not really. Moving every time you make a new friend or get comfortable at a school is far from fun.

“I bet you’ve lived in a ton of places,” she adds.

I nod, not wanting to get into too much detail about the many lives of Taylor Bradshaw.