Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Come on, babe. Play along.
I implore her with my eyes as I repeat myself, my tone extra forlorn. “Why didn’t you call me?”
6
Taylor
I’m trying to listen to what Conor is saying to me, but the sight of him in a suit is affecting my concentration. His big shoulders and broad chest fill out that navy-blue jacket like nobody’s business. I’m tempted to ask him to do a little spin so I can assess the butt situation. I bet his butt looks amazing.
“Taylor,” he says impatiently.
I blink, forcing my gaze back to his face. “Conor, hi. Sorry, what?”
“It’s been a week,” he says, with a strange eagerness about him. “You haven’t called me. I thought we had a good time together at the party.”
My mouth falls open. Is he serious right now? I mean, yeah, he technically said “call me” as he left Saturday morning, but that was part of the performance, right? He hadn’t even provided his phone number!
“Uh, sorry again?” I wrinkle my forehead. “I guess we got our wires crossed.”
“Are you avoiding me?” he demands.
“What? Of course not.”
He’s acting weird. And sort of whiny. Suddenly I’m wondering if this is some kind of personality disorder thing.
Or maybe he’s drunk? There have been a lot of free drinks at this thing. Hence why I’d been making a beeline for the restroom before he’d lunged from out of nowhere and ambushed me.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Taylor. Can’t eat, can’t sleep.” He rakes an agitated hand through his hair. “I thought we made a connection that night. I wanted to play it cool, you know. Not come off too aggressive. But I miss you, babe.”
If this is a joke, it isn’t funny.
Clenching my fists to my sides, I take a step back. “Okay, I don’t know what this is, but for what it’s worth, I saw that Instagram post of you in bed with some girl. So I’d say you’re coping just fine.”
“Because you messed with my head.” He lets out an agonized groan. “Look, I know I screwed up. I’m weak. But only because I’ve been so hurt thinking that amazing night we spent together didn’t mean anything to you.”
Now I’m worried about him.
Exasperation has me stepping forward again. “Conor, you’re—”
He grabs me without warning. Envelops me in his arms, digging his big hands into my waist as he dips down to bury his face in the crook of my neck. I freeze, stunned, and honestly a little scared of what’s happening right now.
Until he whispers against my ear.
“I promise I’m not a weirdo, but I need your help and I won’t touch your penis. Just go with it, T.”
I pull back to meet his eyes, glimpsing a gleam of urgency and a twinkle of humor. I’m still not sure what’s going on, though. Is he trying to get back at me for what I did to him last weekend? Is it a joke? A silly callback?
“Con, man, leave the poor girl alone,” an amused voice remarks.
I turn toward the dark-haired guy who’d spoken—and that’s when I notice Abigail and Jules. My sorority sisters are sitting with their boyfriends and some of the Sigma guys and this is all starting to make more sense.
My heart melts a little. The world doesn’t deserve Conor Edwards.
“Get lost, Captain,” Conor drawls without turning around. “I’m wooing my woman.”
I swallow a laugh.
He winks at me and squeezes my hand in reassurance. Then, to my complete dismay, he drops to his knees. Oh God, everyone who wasn’t staring at us before is sure as shit staring at us now.
My good humor comes precariously close to evaporating. With his heart-stopping face, I’m sure Conor is used to being the center of attention. Me, I’d rather have wood slivers shoved under my fingernails than be on the receiving end of it. But I can feel Abigail’s eyes laser-beaming into me, which means I can’t convey weakness. Can’t show even a trace of the anxiety currently eating away at my stomach like battery acid.
“Please, Taylor. I’m begging. Put me out of my misery. I’m ruined without you.”
“What in the actual hell is happening?” another male inquires.
“Shut up, Matty,” the first guy admonishes. “I’m dying to see where this goes.”
Conor continues to ignore his buddies. His gray eyes never leave my face. “Go out with me. One date.”
“Um, I don’t think so,” I reply.
A shocked gasp sounds from the vicinity of the Kappa table.
“C’mon, T,” he pleads. “Just give me a shot to prove myself.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Hysterical tears well in my eyes. When I hesitate for a long time, it’s not because I’m trying to create drama and tension. I’m worried if I open my mouth, I’ll either burst into laughter or sob from embarrassment.
“Fine,” I finally relent, shrugging. To appear even more aloof, I sort of gaze off toward the stage, as if I’m bored with this entire exchange. “One date. I guess.”