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)
“Whatever.” Rolling her eyes, Sasha steps forward and shakes out her arms like a boxer warming up for a fight.
The Double Double is another Kappa party tradition, which entails downing two double shots of whatever’s lying around, then a ten-second beer bong followed by a ten-second keg stand. Even the sturdiest drinkers among us rarely make it through the gauntlet. Throwing a handstand on top of it while singing the house song backwards is just Abigail being a spiteful bitch.
But as long as it won’t get her expelled, Sasha is never one to back down from a challenge. She ties her thick black hair in a ponytail and accepts the shot glass that materializes out of nowhere, dutifully tossing back one shot, then the next. She powers through the beer bong while a couple Theta guys hold up the funnel for her, the crowd around her screaming their encouragement. To a cacophony of cheers, she muscles her way past the keg stand with a six-three hockey player keeping her legs in the air. When she’s right-side up again, everyone’s impressed to see her even able to stand, much less looking mean and holding steady. That girl’s a warrior.
“Stand back!” Sasha declares, clearing people from the far wall.
With a gymnast’s flourish, she thrusts her arms in the air and then sort of half-cartwheels so that her backside is flush against the wall in a handstand. Loud and confident, she belts out the words to our house song in reverse while the rest of us stupidly try to keep up in our heads to make sure she’s getting it right.
Then, when she’s done, Sasha completes an elegant dismount back to her feet and gives the crowd a bow to resounding applause.
“You’re a fucking robot,” I say, laughing when she prances over to resume her spot slouching in our losers’ corner. “Beautiful dismount.”
“Never met a landing I couldn’t stick.” Freshman year Sasha was on her way to Olympic qualifiers as one of the best vaulters in the world before she busted her knee slipping on some ice, and that was it for her gymnastics career.
Not to be outshined, Abigail sets her gaze on me. “Your turn, Taylor.”
I take a deep breath. My heart races. Already I feel my cheeks burning red. Abigail smiles at my discomfort like a shark alerting to the vibrations of a wriggling seal in distress. I brace myself for whatever evil endeavor she’s concocting for me.
“I dare you to...” She drags her teeth across her bottom lip. I see my impending humiliation in her eyes before she even opens her mouth. “Get a guy of my choice to take you upstairs.”
Bitch.
Debauched hoots and catcalls burst from the men still watching this display of female aggression play out.
“Come on, Abs. Getting date-raped isn’t a party game.” Sasha steps forward, shielding me with her body.
Abigail rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I’ll pick someone good. Someone anybody would want to get sweaty with. Even Taylor.”
God, please don’t make me have to do this.
To my sheer relief, help comes in the form of Taylor Swift.
“Fixed it!” a sorority sister yells, just as music once again fills the house.
T-Swift’s “Blank Space” elicits a wave of excited cheers, drawing attention away from Abigail’s stupid game. The crowd promptly disperses to refill their drinks and get back to the rhythmic foreplay of dancing.
Thank you, hotter and skinnier Taylor.
To my dismay, Abigail is undeterred. “Hmm, who will the lucky boy be…”
I swallow a groan. I was naïve to think she’d drop it. Once a dare has been issued, any sister who fails to complete the task to the best of her ability is punished mercilessly until some poor sap is unlucky enough to take her place. And if Abigail were to get her way, that’d be three weeks after forever. I already have a hard time fitting in with the rest of the sisters. This would make me a pariah.
She scans the room, standing on her tiptoes to peer over people’s heads and get a thorough look at available options. A wide grin spreads out across her face when she turns to me again.
“I dare you to seduce Conor Edwards.”
Fuck.
Fucking fuck.
Yeah, I know who Conor is. Everyone does. He’s on the hockey team and a regular face at the parties on Greek Row. A regular face in the sorority beds on Greek Row, too. But his real claim to fame is being arguably the hottest new guy in the junior class. Which puts him way out of my league. A perfect choice if the goal of this dare is my utter humiliation at being resoundingly rejected by a guy laughing in my face.
“Rachel is still in Daytona,” Abigail adds. “You can use her bedroom.”
“Abigail, please,” I say, begging she let this go. But my plea only emboldens her.