Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
I arrive earlier than usual at the environmental sciences building because Agatha wants to talk about one of our pledges. She and Ciara are already waiting for me in the lobby, lattes in hand and unwrapped cashmere scarves hanging in front of their open designer coats.
I shrug out of my own coat as I approach the young women. Agatha gives my outfit a once-over, and I resist the urge to squirm self-consciously. My pink, pearl-buttoned cardigan is perfectly coordinated with my gray skirt, and my hair is twisted into a perfect bun without a hair out of place. There’s nothing she can find fault in, yet the way her nose wrinkles makes me feel like I showed up in tattered rags.
“My Little is such a doormat,” our sorority sister Ciara is complaining to Agatha. “I keep trying to encourage her to be more proactive and advocate for herself with her professors, but she’s too scared to make waves. Her psych prof gave her a C on her midterm, and she refuses to appeal the grade.”
I glance at Ciara. “Maybe she thinks she deserved the grade.”
“Who gives a shit? A Delta Pi can’t be bringing home C’s.” Ciara sounds annoyed.
“The more pressing matter is my Little,” Agatha says, reaching for her phone. “Charlotte, have you seen this?”
I’m about to look when a gust of cool air blows through the lobby. My heart thumps when I see Beckett enter the building, making his way toward us, all six-foot-something of him. He’s the epitome of hot jock. Broad shoulders, skin that’s still tanned long after summer, and a lazy, confident stride that makes everyone else seem to disappear.
“Morning, ladies,” he drawls.
He flashes the smile that propelled my pulse to other dimensions the night I went to their place. Part devil, part charmer. I can feel Agatha rolling her eyes before she even does it.
She doesn’t respond, just glances at her phone.
Ciara has the grace to be polite. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I murmur.
I pretend I don’t know what he looks like naked, because I’m that immature. So what if the memory of his body pressed against mine is branded into my brain? Doesn’t mean I’m going to greet him in public like we’re old friends.
But I simply don’t understand how Agatha and Ciara can look at a guy like Beckett and not start drooling. All these athletes, especially the hockey guys…their bodies are insane. The football guys are a little too bulky for me, because yes, there’s definitely such a thing as too much muscle. The lacrosse and swim guys are too lanky and toned. But a hockey body…it just hits different.
Rather than continue toward our lecture hall, Beckett plants his feet. “So what’s the plan for the weekend? Any big parties I should know about?”
Agatha doesn’t bother hiding her disdain this time. She gives him a look—a perfect mix of boredom and dismissal—and then returns her attention to her phone as if he isn’t even there.
Beckett chuckles, completely unbothered by the snub. “You know, you should make an effort to smile more, Agatha,” he tells her. “Your smile is absolutely effulgent—it lights up the room.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Effulgent?
“Come on, girls. Let’s go inside,” Agatha says, pushing away from the wall. “We can discuss the Littles after class.”
As my sorority sisters saunter forward, I move away from Beckett and pretend to study my phone. “I’ll be right in. Just got a missed call from my mom. I need to call her back.”
I raise the phone to my ear and keep it there until I see the lecture hall doors swing shut. Then I march back to Beckett, who hasn’t moved from his perch against the wall.
“Are you reading The Virgin and the Blade?” I demand.
“No idea what you’re talking about, baby girl.”
“Bullshit. Nobody uses the word effulgent unless they’re reading The Virgin and the Blade!”
“Again, you’re mistaking me for someone else.”
“You’re such a liar.”
As we walk toward class, he gives me a sidelong look. “You okay? You seem off.”
His assessment surprises me, because I thought I was doing a good job masking my emotions. Beckett is a lot more perceptive than he lets on.
“I’m fine.” We reach the doors, but my hand hesitates on the handle. I let it drop, biting my bottom lip. “No, I’m lying. I’m not fine.”
He’s instantly at my side, brow creased with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Remember I told you about my biological brother and how he never responded to my message?”
Beckett nods.
“Well, he tracked me down. In person.”
“Whoa. That’s huge.”
“I know,” I say, feeling the weight settling back onto my shoulders. “We met up, and it was intense. I don’t know how to deal with it. Whether I should tell my parents I’ve seen him. Whether I should keep seeing him. It’s a lot to deal with.”
Beckett studies me for a moment. “You asking for advice?”