Page 57 of The Girlfriend Agreement (Conwick U #1)

I can only assume Ronnie is wondering the same thing because her next words are biting.

“Lexi’s been let down too many times, and ironically, one of those times was by you .

She can try to downplay it all she wants, but she was really hurt by that whole thing with the bet.

It might not seem like a big deal to you, a name on a list—who cares?

But for someone who rarely opens up to people…

it seriously fucked with her. Not to mention, it literally ruined spring break for her, which I am so angry about since you have no idea how hard it was to get her to agree to go on a plane in the first place. ”

Is all of that true? The spring break part lines up—Mason chose then of all times to drop his stupid video, right before a bunch of us were due to go to Cabo, a trip my parents promptly put an end to when the video went viral.

But what about the rest? I know Blondie harbors some unresolved aggression toward me for the whole bucket list fiasco, but I assumed that was just because I embarrassed her on a public scale, not because I actually hurt her feelings. It never seemed that serious to me.

And that, my conscience sneers, is precisely why you don’t deserve her forgiveness.

“Do you get it now? Why I don’t trust you?

” Ronnie hisses, dropping her voice. “Why I never wanted her to do this? Things with you two have already crossed a dangerous line, and if you screw this up, it’s not just her mom’s literal life at stake, it’s Lexi’s faith in people.

And any faith she may ever consider placing in someone again.

So, if you’re planning on just fucking her around, getting your dick wet, and then disappearing again, I’d think twice.

Find some other willing pussy and leave her out of it. ”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” I nearly shout, surprised at my own vehemence.

Ronnie drops her gaze and shrugs, picking at her polished red nails. “For her sake, I hope that’s the truth. And if it’s not…” Her eyes snap back to mine. “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I look great in orange.”

Without another word, she trots off, leaving me reeling.

I don’t know how long I stand there, completely stupefied by my conversation with Ronnie, but when I next look up, Blondie is directly in front of me, staring at me through narrowed eyes. The two cups she was previously holding have mysteriously vanished.

Leaning into my space, she murmurs, “Your head looks like a traffic cone.” Then she giggles, dangling off my shoulder with one hand and batting at my hat with the other, like a kitten that’s had one too many sniffs of catnip.

Well, someone’s had a bit too much to drink.

I fight the urge to laugh, giving her a placating smile. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

She nods, her eyes glassy. “The jungle juice is really good.”

“You know,” I say, curling my arm around her waist when she stumbles back a step, “I think this little monkey has had enough of the jungle for one night. Why don’t I take you home?”

She considers me for a moment, scratching her chin. “Sleep does sound nice,” she concedes, her words slurring.

“I agree. Let me just…” I trail off, searching the surrounding faces as I steer Blondie through the crowd of fellow partygoers in the general direction of the front door.

As we take a detour through the kitchen, I glimpse a familiar blonde wig by the patio doors leading out back.

“Andie, hey,” I call to her, crossing the space as quickly as escorting an inebriated drunk allows.

When she turns, I forget what I was going to say, my focus homing in on her costume…and the outfit her boyfriend is wearing beside her.

“Wait, what are you two supposed to be?” The words come out somewhat accusatory, prompting Andie to give me a curious look.

“Legolas and Gimli,” she answers as Eli nods at me from behind a large braided fake beard, holding up a prop ax for me to see. “From The Lord of the Rings .”

Excitement ripples through me, and I turn to Blondie, about to joyously shout, “Couples’ costumes! See? It’s a thing!” only to realize she’s practically half unconscious at this point and likely wouldn’t remember it.

“Cool, cool, cool. You guys look great,” I say instead, a rising disappointment extinguishing my glee.

“Anyway, could you do me a huge solid and inform your cousin, Satan, the lord and ruler of Hell, that I took Lexi home? To clarify, I mean to her house. Where I will make sure she’s settled and safe and then proceed to go back to my own dorm.

Alone . I feel the distinction is important here.

” I glimpse a flash of red hair out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn to look, it’s gone, leaving only a shiver of dread in its wake.

“I’d tell her myself,” I stage-whisper, “but I think she might be hiding a shank in that scrap of a dress, and I don’t really feel like getting stabbed on this particular evening. ”

Andie presses the side of her fist to her mouth, suppressing a laugh. “I’ll tell her,” she promises just as Eli says, “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

I give him a knowing glance, bro to bro. This guy totally gets it.

“May the force be with you,” Eli adds with an encouraging nod at Blondie, who giggles again and boops me on the nose.

“Wrong universe, dude!” Andie frowns, lightly elbowing her boyfriend in the ribs. “Good lord, it’s not even the same genre!”

Shaking my head, I carry on, making it roughly halfway to the front door before I feel a light tap on the back of my arm. I turn, shuffling Blondie, who stumbles a little, only to find Andie standing behind us.

“Ronnie means well,” she says, her expression apologetic. “Try not to take it too personally, okay? She— we’re —just worried about Lexi.”

We both look down at Blondie, who’s discovered a newfound fascination with the tail sewn onto the back of her costume.

“I know,” I mutter softly, but what I really want to say is, So am I . “Though, I think, for tonight at least, the only thing we have to worry about is the wicked hangover she’s going to have tomorrow.”

Andie flashes a kind smile at me, then nods and retreats back into the party.

With a sigh, I guide Blondie the rest of the way to the front door, and lead her outside into the biting night air.

As the chill rips through me, I find myself peering down at her bare chest and legs, and wishing I had a jacket to offer her.

But if Blondie is cold, she doesn’t complain.

If anything, all that alcohol in her system is doing a damn good job keeping her warm.

I keep an eye on her fumbling steps as we pass a couple fucking on the grass by the side of the house and at least four separate people passed out in and around the bushes out front. Jeez, less than two months away from the party scene and I forgot how sloppy Conwick students can get.

Yup. I am definitely ready to call it a night.

Blondie’s house isn’t far from campus, but it’s far enough that it will take forever to get there if we continue at the glacial pace she’s setting.

Stopping her with a gentle hand on her upper arm, I step in her path and turn in place, bending my knees until I’m squatting on the sidewalk in front of her.

“Come on, spider monkey. Hop on.”

When she doesn’t immediately move, I pat my lower back for clarification.

A shiver rolls up my spine when she lightly trails a fingertip over my shoulder. “I recall telling you I wouldn’t climb you like a tree, Mr. Giant Banana.”

I snort, peering back at her. “I think that was before you drank a gallon of Everclear. Come on, I’m just helping you home.”

That’s all the convincing it takes. And I instantly regret it.

Blondie climbs onto my back, hooking those mile-long legs around my waist, and I swallow at the warm press of her breasts to my back and the heat of her breath on the side of my neck.

I’ve never been more aware of her body, which is just so fucking typical when I’m trying to do the gentlemanly thing and take her home.

She’s drunk out of her mind, for fuck sake.

The last thought on mine should be how it would feel to be inside her again.

For the next five minutes, I distract myself with the worst kind of boner-killing thoughts, but even the most grotesque visuals of my abuela wearing lingerie are not enough to stop me from thinking about Blondie.

I’m so consumed by the idea of her that it takes me far too long to realize I didn’t imagine the gentle rasp of her voice in my ear.

“What?” I choke out, repositioning my grip on her legs, and trying—and failing—to ignore the heat of her bare skin against my fingers.

“Did you know?” she says, her words sloshy, like they’re on a spin cycle in a washing machine.

I clear my throat. “Know what?”

“That I was going to kiss you,” she breathes.

Her tone isn’t reproachful, but curious. Still, I bristle at the question—not at the mention of the kiss itself, but at the notion that I had somehow pre-empted it. Not just that I knew it was coming, but that I had expected it.

Did you? my conscience asks me.

“No,” I answer, and it’s the truth. But I think part of me hoped you would.

“I saw it, you know,” she mumbles into the side of my neck, coaxing a shudder over my skin. “When I said to forget about it, you were disappointed.”

I release a breathy laugh. “What can I say? It was a good kiss.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse her glasses sliding down her nose, and I reach over my shoulder to push them back up before they can fall off her face. When I do, she makes a cute little grunting sound, like she’s annoyed I’ve done something nice for her.

Neither of us says another word the rest of the walk to Blondie’s house. I take her as close to the porch stairs as I can get, shifting my back to face them to minimize the drop to the ground, then carefully ease her down as she slides to her feet.