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)
“Business law.”
“Isn’t that a first-year elective?”
I nod. “He failed the class freshman year, and now he has to retake it before he can graduate this year.”
“I’m a journalism major,” she offers.
“You want to be a reporter?”
“That’s the plan.”
“My mom owns an online newspaper. If you ever need an internship, she would help you.”
What am I doing?
My mom has never met any of the girls I hooked up with. Well, technically, we haven’t hooked up, only kissed.
A smile illuminates her face. “Thanks. I would love that. We’re supposed to find an internship next year. Everyone on campus already applied for the school paper. So, that doesn’t leave me with many options. And I don’t know many people in Philly.”
“My mom owns Sports Buzz. Do you like sports?”
Jemma shrugs. “I’m a fast learner.”
“Do you have another class today?”
She shakes her head. “I have a ton of homework and a meeting later at the chapter house.”
“You don’t seem like the sorority type.”
“I’m not,” she admits. “But my mom is a Kappa Delta legacy, and my sister is the Queen of KD. So I guess you can say it’s in my blood.”
“It’s like that for me,” I offer. “Hockey is in my DNA.”
She chuckles. “Why do you say that?”
“My dad played in the NHL for fifteen years. Now he’s the general manager of the Philadelphia Flyers.”
She bobs her head. “Do you want to play pro hockey like your dad?”
“It’s the only thing I think about… other than you.”
She snorts with laughter, swatting her hand at me. “Stop trying to impress me.”
“Are you impressed?”
“You’re off to a good start.” Jemma turns left, dragging me with her. “I live in Penn Hall. You can walk me home.”
“I’d walk with you to the end of the earth,” I joke.
She laughs. “You’re cute.”
“You’re beautiful.”
A smile tugs at her mouth.
As we walk through campus, her fingers brush along mine. Our instant connection sparks a shock of electricity that burns my skin. I’m tempted to hold her hand because I want more of her heat. But I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or give her the wrong idea. I don’t date, at least not in the traditional sense, and Jemma seems like a traditional girl. So, why can’t I leave her alone?
We stop in front of Penn Hall, the tension between us palpable. I consider bending down to kiss her but think better of it. The first time was for a dare, the last time for charity. She might not take too kindly to me claiming her in front of everyone in the Quad.
I slip my fingers between hers. “Come to a party with me this weekend.”
Without hesitation, she says, “Where?”
“Delta Sig. It’s their annual Halloween party.”
“I was already planning to go.” She smiles. “What costume are you wearing?”
“Legends of hockey past.” She scrunches her nose, and I clarify, “Dead hockey players. It’s the team tradition. Think zombie hockey players.”
Jemma raises her hand to her mouth and chuckles. “I can’t wait to see this.”
“You can’t miss us.” I shove my hands into my pockets and rock back on my heels. “What are you wearing? Playboy bunny? Sexy witch?”
She purses her lips. “I’m not sure yet. My sorority sisters have something planned for us.”
Jemma walks toward the door, her hand raised to wave before she enters Penn Hall. I watch as she climbs the stairs and disappears into the building. Now, more than ever, I’m looking forward to the party because I need to see Jemma again.
Chapter Twelve
Trent
As I walk across campus, headed toward my house, my cell phone dings with a new message. A dozen other phones ring at the same time. I glance around the Quad, where people hold their phones in front of them, their eyes wide with shock. A few people shoot curious looks at me.
I remove my phone from my pocket to see who texted me. It’s an unknown number, a woman who calls herself The Queen.
The Queen
Want the latest gossip about Strick U’s ice hockey team? I’ve got you covered. Click the link.
What the fuck?
My heart hammers in my chest as I tap the link. A blog called Dethroned loads, and my jaw unhinges as I read her post. She’s clearly out for my brother’s blood.
Dethroned: October Edition
I wonder what the NCAA would say about hotshot hockey stud Tucker Kane pounding beers and eating mystery brownies at the Delta Sig house on Saturday. Are those pot brownies, Tucker? Only a drug test will tell…
* * *
XO,
The Queen
“Fuck,” I mutter.
We’re still on suspension, days away from returning to the ice. Who the hell does this woman think she is? No one talks shit about my brother.
I scroll through her blog, which has dozens of pictures of my teammates in compromising positions. From the looks of it, students captured these pictures at parties and handed them over to this bitch. Tucker’s eating a brownie in one image.