Drake

I think Taylor hates me, or at the very least she’s changed her mind about our arrangement. The second I get her into my bedroom, she runs out of it like it’s on fire. Confused, I chase after her, locking the door behind me.

There are way too many people in my house to leave it open for puck bunnies and curious people to browse through it. I made that mistake years ago and had the Queen of the Puck Bunnies waiting for me in my bed when I came back. I didn’t act on her advances. Nope, I threw her sorry ass out.

Moving people out of my way, I rush down the hall to the bathroom. It’s locked, so I knock and call out to Taylor.

“Are you okay?” I ask her.

“Yeah, Drake. I’m fine. Just don’t feel good.”

“Let me in,” I demand.

“No,” she snaps.

“C’mon. I’ll hold your hair for you.”

I don’t even care that people can hear me. All I care about is Taylor and if she’s okay.

With some hesitation, Taylor unlocks the door and cracks it open for me to step inside. She’s sitting on top of the toilet seat with her head between her hands, her dark hair so long it touches the tiled floor.

I lock the door behind me and then sink to my knees in front of her, taking one of her hands in mine.

She peeks at me from beneath her lashes and blue eyes that are watery study my face. “I feel like shit. I thought I would throw up, but the room keeps spinning and nothing happens. I didn’t eat before I came over here. Never let me drink on an empty stomach again.”

“Do you want me to take you somewhere to eat? Or I can order something online and have it delivered to the house.”

She nods. “Yeah, how about pizza? I need carbs when I drink, or I end up getting sick.” Searching the bathroom, her eyes land on the medicine cabinet. “Any chance you have some Pepto or something that will settle my stomach in the meantime?”

“Yeah, let me check.” I sift through the cabinet and then the drawers until I find an open box of Pepto-Bismol.

Punching out a few pills from the pack, I hand them to her.

“Hang on. I think we have cups in the closet. Jamie gets up in the middle of the night for water. He usually keeps some in here.”

She takes the small bathroom cup from my hand and gulps down the pills.

I sit on the floor with my back against the glass shower doors, knees bent into my chest, and remove my cell phone from my jeans pocket. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

She taps her index finger on her lips. “How about pepperoni?”

I nod and open the app to place an order for delivery.

Taylor leans forward to touch my knee. “Will you eat some of it?”

I laugh. “Yeah, I can always eat.”

“I’m sure you can,” she says with a smile touching her lips. “I still think of how you told me you would eat me.”

“I will… just not when you’re ready to puke. I’m not really into taking advantage of drunk girls.”

She smiles, blaring a set of white teeth. “I’m not drunk, just a little buzzed. You know, I wouldn’t have drank so much if it weren’t for you.”

I cock an eyebrow at her. “And how is this my fault?”

“You looked like you were ready to fuck Stephanie when I walked into the kitchen.”

My laughter shakes through me. “Are you serious? I was only doing what you asked me to do. You wanted me to…” I say, making air quotes to mimic her words, “… maintain my dirtball image.”

“Well, you couldn’t have picked a dirtier girl to do it with,” she snaps. Her top lip curls up into a snarl, nostrils flared.

“You can’t be mad at me,” I declare. “We had a deal. I held up my end of the bargain.” Reaching for her hand, I add, “The only woman I want to spend my time with tonight is you, Taylor. This, right here, is the best part of my night so far.”

She chuckles. “Because I’m so much fun.”

“You are everything she’s not,” I admit. “So, don’t worry about girls like Stephanie. They have nothing on you. Never did.”

“Hiding sucks,” she hisses. “I wanted to kiss you the second I saw you tonight, and we both had to pretend like we don’t even know each other.”

“We don’t have to pretend, Taylor. At least, not right now.”

I scoot along the floor to get closer, my fingers thread between hers. Her skin is so soft against my calloused hands. Years of playing hockey have made my skin rougher. Somehow, the same isn’t true for Taylor with how long she’s played basketball.

Moving my hands up to her hips, I lift her off the toilet seat and onto my lap. She sits with her long legs across mine, resting her head on my shoulder.

When I dip my head down to press my lips against hers, she moans into my mouth.

“I should have done this when you walked into my house,” I breathe against her lips. “But I didn’t want to break your rules.”

“You don’t seem like the type to follow rules,” she says, laughing. “And you were busy with the skank parade.”

I ignore her last comment. There’s no point in rehashing what didn’t happen between Stephanie and me.

“I’m not much of a rule follower. I kinda do my thing. But with you, I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“If I give this a real chance, promise not to talk to other girls.” She shakes her head as she speaks. “No more dick pics or any other body parts of yours. I don’t want to end up in Dethroned because of you.”

“Me either. You think I want that blogger posting about my life online? I have a career to think about. Plus, my dad will kick my ass.”

She tilts her head back until it’s on my shoulder and smiles up at me. “I have a hard time believing anyone can kick your ass.”

“Wait until you meet my dad. You’ll see.”

“You’re already planning to have me meet your dad? Oh… you must like me more than I thought.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. But I will take you to meet my parents. My mom will love you.”

She will also kill me if I fuck this up with Taylor.

I can see them hitting it off. My family will love her.

Taylor has a magnetic personality that draws people to her.

Her usage of humor in awkward situations also helps.

She doesn’t know it yet, but my mom does the same thing when she’s nervous or doesn’t know what to say.

I see so many similarities between them, and that makes it easier for me to lower my guard around Taylor.

“I wouldn’t mind meeting your mom. I love her books.”

“You’ll like Chloe, too. She helps my mom write half of her books now.”

She bites her bottom lip as if deep in thought and then sits up in my lap.

“Wait, your sister’s name is Chloe? Oh, my God…

Chloe Donovan writes the Dark Desires series with your mom?

Holy crap, I didn’t even make that connection before when you told me your mom and sister write together.

” She covers her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide before she lowers them.

“Damn, so everyone in your family is like famous. That’s crazy. ”

“Yeah, it kinda sucks, though. Imagine having to live up to my father’s legacy, and my mom and sister are New York Times bestselling authors. My mom’s side of the family is also mega loaded.”

“So, you have money coming out of your eyeballs, huh? What a hard life,” she deadpans with a snort.

I shrug against the shower doors. “I guess. I have a trust fund. Two of them, actually. One from my parents and one from my mom’s parents.

My grandparents don’t want me to play hockey like my dad.

They think it’s an unsuitable profession.

But they also said the same thing about my mom being a writer. ”

“So, how did she get into it?”

“Tucker and Trent’s grandfather owned a publishing company about twenty-five years ago.

He lost all of his money, though. Our moms were best friends growing up, still are, and that’s how my mom became a writer.

She even wrote for a blog with my Aunt Kennedy.

But that shit was nasty. You should have seen the stuff they wrote on it. ”

“What’s it called?”

I sigh, shaking my head at my mom and the foul words she wrote on her hockey-themed sex advice blog. “Long Sticks Hard Shots.”

Taylor laughs so hard she squeals into my ear. “That’s hilarious.” She slaps my knee. “Oh my God, I seriously can’t wait to meet your mom.”

“Her parents hated that she became, of all things, an erotic romance author. My grandparents are those old rich snobs everyone hates. My grandfather thinks my mom’s writing is beneath the Carroway name, and he still doesn’t like that she married my dad.”

“Why? Your dad was a pro athlete. They make tons of money.”

“Not enough for Grandfather. He comes from a family of Wall Street bankers. The Carroways have private yachts, houses all over the world, and more businesses than I can count. It would take ten lifetimes to spend the money. So, when you compare their wealth to my dad, we’re poor.”

She chuckles. “Not quite, Drake. My dad was in the Marine Corps. We lived on military bases and ate our meals in the chow hall. You are definitely not poor. You probably don’t even know how poor people live.”

“I doubt you do either,” I challenge. “Living on a military base isn’t that bad.”

She shrugs. “My dad works for a contractor, but nothing like what you must be used to.”

“He must have some money if he can afford to send you to Strick U,” I point out.

“Most of my tuition is free,” she admits.

“I qualified for a ton of grants and scholarships because of my dad.” She presses one hand to my chest, staring into my eyes.

“Look, Drake, I don’t care about money. So, if you want to impress me, do it without using material things.

I’d rather know you than how many zeros are in your bank account. ”

When have I ever had a woman say this to me? Never. Yep, definitely never. Most of the girls on campus lead with, ‘So, your dad’s a famous hockey player’ or something that was all about their interest in my money.

“Good. Because I wasn’t planning to win you over with money.” I plant a kiss on her lips and then rise to my feet with Taylor in my arms when I hear the ding on my phone from the app. “Your pizza is here.”