Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“I’m okay,” I lie. “Just a little tired.”
The last part is true. I have slept little since I accepted my bid, and the closer we get to the end of the semester, I’m counting the days until we become full-fledged sisters. This will all be worth it. I know it deep down in my bones.
“Shannon squeezes my shoulder and gives me a hint of a smile. “If you need me, give me a shout.”
“Thanks, Shan.”
“What are Big Sisters for?”
I fake her enthusiasm and then head back to where Zoe and Riley await their turns for the kissing booth. A timer goes off, signifying our turn to switch places with the girls in the booth. Somewhat startled, Zoe jumps, and Riley chuckles. Zoe brushes it off as if nothing happened, and then she gets in line behind the two girls in front of us. We shuffle into the large wooden box and step toward the counter, where hundreds of eyes stare back at us.
Shannon, Abby, and Jordan coordinate the group of eager boys. They collect money from them as they walk down the single-file lines forming in front of us.
My heart won’t stop racing, my pulse quickening as I look at the crowd. The adrenaline courses through my veins. I clear the lump at the back of my throat and hope I don’t puke on one of them. It’s not until I blink the sun from my eyes and focus on the boys’ faces that I feel a sudden wave of calm wash over me.
Trent runs a hand through his blond hair. He’s so perfect I can’t stand it. Even his hair is perfect. The cute dimple I’ve grown to love creases his tanned cheek. And when he approaches the booth, I just about squeal with delight.
Resting my palms on the wooden ledge, I lean forward. Trent meets me halfway, our mouths inches apart.
“Did you come to claim your kiss?” I ask him.
He smirks. “You bet your sweet ass I did.”
Chapter Nine
Trent
Drake approaches my right and slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Where did Tuck go? I’ve been looking for him for the past hour.”
I glance over my shoulder at the corner booth where the guys from Delta Sig sell dick-shaped taffies to raise money for testicular cancer. The sign above their booth reads, We go balls deep, which matches the personalities of the men in the fraternity.
Tucker and I are practically honorary frat brothers, though neither of us has ever thought of pledging. It’s not like we would have time with our hockey schedules. Plus, all their drinking at the chapter house would land us in trouble with the Athletic Commission.
I point at the Delta Sig booth, and Drake follows my finger. Tucker is pounding an unmarked bottle with Romeo and Professor. I can’t remember their real names. Most of the guys go by a nickname given to them when they were new members.
Tucker shouldn’t be over there with them, not with Dean Whittaker walking around the carnival. His punishment will become permanent if he doesn’t get his act together.
“What’s up with Tuck lately?” Drake asks me.
“He’s not taking the suspension well.”
I walk alongside him toward the Kisses for Cancer booth on the opposite side of the Quad.
“It’s like something snapped inside him,” I continue. “I don’t get it. I’ve been trying to pull him out of this funk, but he’s getting worse.”
Drake shoves his hands into his jeans pockets, his eyes on the crowd before us. “Tuck was a mess last weekend. I was almost embarrassed for him. Last night wasn’t any better. He’s been partying over at Delta Sig. He doesn’t care if he plays hockey anymore.”
Tucker and I have always been closer to Drake than the other guys in our house. His father, Carter Donovan, is my dad’s best friend and one of the few people he trusts. We spent a lot of time at each other’s houses when we were kids, went to the same schools, and played on the same teams.
Our fathers made sure we were best friends. Drake is like a brother to us. I can talk to him about anything.
“Yeah, I see that.” Drake shakes his head. “I tried talking to him earlier, but he said he was fine, and I had nothing to worry about.”
“Same for me,” I admit.
“Maybe we need to stage an intervention at the house.”
I cock my head at him. “He’s not a drug addict.”
“No, but he’s partying too hard this early into our season. He needs to save it for after we win the Frozen Four again.”
Losing playing time has taught me a valuable lesson. For the longest time, I thought we were invincible. We got away with murder, our father’s connections, and enough money to settle the issue every time.
“I’ll ask Parker to talk to him,” I offer. “He has a way of getting into Tuck’s head.”