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 2020© Trilina Pucci LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including by photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written
permission from the author, except for inclusions or brief quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Designer—Ashes and Vellichor

Editor—Erica Russikoff, ericaedits.com
One Love Editing, oneloveediting.com
Fairest Reviews Editing, fairestofallbookreviews.blog
Proof—All Encompassing Books, and Rumi Khan
 CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue

More from Trilina

Sneak Peek
Acknowledgments
 Jackson

I let out a breath, the weight of this race on my shoulders.

This opportunity isn’t something to treat with arrogance,
but right now, I need all of it to fuel me over the finish
line. I’m just a dude from Savannah who taught myself to row. How
the fuck did I get here? I’m competing against the best of the best,
at this fancy prep school, with these rich-ass kids.
No. Get your head in the game, Jackson. I’m a Price—we’re
Southern, proud, and determined. I will own this asshole to my left.
He will not beat me. There’s no good goddamn way I will go home
with my head hangin’ low. Next year, for my senior year, I’ll row for
Hillcrest and ensure my way into a crew that breeds elite athletes.
Olympians.
Looking over, I see one of those Olympians—Grey McCallister.
Fuck, I’m gonna need Jesus for this. I should’ve listened to my
momma and gone to church. Then again, I’d probably catch fire just
walking in. Grey rolls his shoulders, and any of the small amounts of
confidence that my inner speech instilled runs right out of my veins.
He looks over and chuckles. “Try not to piss your pants.”
Hold on… “What?”
 He grins at me, cracking his neck.
“Piss yourself. Don’t do it. You’re going to strain so hard to try to
catch me that you’ll piss your pants. You don’t have to catch me to
get a spot, Georgia. And you will get a spot—but if you’re going to
run this team, you can’t be the guy who pissed his pants.”
I can’t help myself. I laugh, loud and deep, tipping my head back
to the sky. All right.
“All I have to do is not piss my pants, huh?”
Grey nods, and we refocus, gripping oars. The one thing I know
is that I like a challenge, and he just laid it out. The buzzer sounds
through the sky, and I dig my oars into the sheen reflected on the
water, pulling my boat out quickly. I dip them back in just as fast,
straining all the muscles across my broad chest.
All that cross-training is about to pay off. My biceps burn from
the ferocity with which I row.
I’m not stopping.
I won’t slow.
I will not lose.
My jaw is so tense I could crack my teeth as I grunt with each
dip of my oar.
“Come on. Bring it!” I hear roared, and fuck me if I don’t let it
fuel me.
When the airhorn rips through the sky again, my entire six-foot-
one frame dies, falling back against the rest of the boat. My breath
is heaving from my chest. I’ve never rowed so hard, worked so
much for a goal.
My breath still drags from my body as I blink my eyes open and
turn to see where Grey is. Damn—he’s a whole lot farther than I was
hoping to see. I look up at the same sky I laughed into earlier. I’m
pretty sure the rowing gods are doing that same thing to me now,
because I just got smoked. Water laps heavily against my scull, and
all the worries I held at bay flood my mind. I’ll bet the coach already
has a car waiting for me so they can shove me off to the airport. I
fucking blew it.
What the hell was I thinking? That I could come from my life to
this big-ass city and get a spot on the most renowned team in the
country. I did—I actually fucking did.
How am I going to look my father in the eyes? “No use crying
over spilled milk” invades my thoughts, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t
in my momma’s voice.
Clearing my throat, I sit up and begin to row back, feeling
immediate fatigue in my arms. As I get closer to my docking spot, I
see guys lining up about twenty feet away, where the grass meets
the river. I reach for the wood planks to tie myself off, and everyone
begins clapping. What the hell? I look over my shoulder and see
Grey tying himself off behind me on the wide platform.
“That’s for you. Not me.” He laughs. “Enjoy the moment. Stop
questioning whether you belong. Decide that you do.”
I feel numb as I try to reconcile what he’s saying.
Liam, Grey’s number two on the crew, stands at the end of his
dock, taking the oars from Grey, and smirks. “You should be proud.
You got talent. That’s the closest anyone’s ever come to Grey—well,
except for me.”
“No. I beat you by more,” Grey levels, climbing from his scull and
standing next to Liam.
Everyone has a defining moment in their life, and I think this
might be mine. All I can do is nod as I climb the ladder to the dock,
looking at the guys—respect reflected.
The coach is walking down the dock to meet us as he calls out,
grabbing our collective attention. We turn and meet him in the
middle as he holds out his hand for me to shake.
“Mr. Price, I’m impressed. I have no reservations saying that you
will be the future of this team, and by the end of next year, you just
may be able to best McCallister.”
“Unlikely” is said behind me, and I turn, humor planted on my
face, reaching for my crotch.
“I’m dry. But damn if you weren’t wrong. You’re a fast son of a
bitch.”
Laughter rings out between the three of us as Liam slaps my
shoulder. “Let me introduce you to your future.”
 Ava

“C ome. You have to, Aves. It’s a party to celebrate the new
crew guy. Trust me. You want to know the hotties on the
crew team,” Laura whines, seated at the vanity in her bedroom.
Oh, I know them—the entire school does. They’re arrogant gods
whose last names hang from the buildings around New York. They
run this school, and I’m sure the world, one day. But I’m happy to fly
under the radar. Every one of those boys is the same, save a few—
but those ones are taken.
“Eh, who cares. They seem like assholes,” I answer dismissively,
flipping through a magazine.
“They are. But, like, the hot kind,” my cousin counters, giggling
at the end.
I look up, joining in, because as dumb as that sounds, I know
exactly what she means. The hottest guys always have a dash of
arrogance, with a heap of cocky charm—just enough to make them
delicious assholes who you fall for, hard. Not that I get to date those
guys, but I know about them.
“Plus,” she breathes out dramatically, “I can’t have my cousin
representing the nerd crew next year.”
 I set my magazine down and narrow my eyes. Laura’s family, but
man is she a bitch. If I had my way, we wouldn’t hang out as much.
But I don’t. Our mothers force us together often. On my end, I think
mine hopes that some of Laura’s popularity and personality will rub
off on me. My mother wants me to grow up and matriculate into the
“women’s clubs” and the “ladies who brunch” cliques she adores so
much. But I prefer my “nerd crew”—people who care about school,
volunteering, the world, and appreciate a book that isn’t written by a
celebrity. It’s not as if I’m unsocial, more like the things I’m
interested in don’t matter to them.
Laura pulls her long red hair into a ponytail, slicking the sides
back. “I’ve given a pound of flesh to be in with Caroline Whitmore.
Status is important. She’s a game-changer, Ava. Tonight will be good
for you.”
“That girl’s the devil,” I whisper under my breath, reopening the
magazine.
Silence permeates the room, causing me to look up again, and
by the scowl on her face, my words weren’t hushed enough.
Whoops.
“Don’t cross her.”
“Mmmkay,” I answer, as she continues over me.
“So next year,” she drawls out, “I expect you to run this school as
I did. And tonight will ensure that.”
My eyes roll and roll hard as I flop back on the bed. The cliques,
the status requirements in our world make me feel like I’m running
on an expensive diamond-encrusted hamster wheel. I wish I could
meet a girl from over the bridge that looked just like me and we
could switch places.
“Hellooo? Are you listening?”
I let out a sigh. “Sorry, I was wishing my life was a Mary Kate
and Ashley movie.”
“Focus, Ava.”
There’s no way I’m getting out of this. My refusal is meaningless,
but maybe I can still make it worth my while.
I push up to my elbows, locking eyes with her through the mirror.
“All right. I’ll go. But only if you shut up and convince your mom to
let me switch places with you to visit Aunt Stella next weekend.”
Laura twists in her vanity seat, leveling her eyes on me. “That’s a
big trade, little Aves. Are you negotiating? How non-nerdy of you.”
Visiting Aunt Stella is coveted amongst the cousins. She’s filthy
rich, and each time she has something nipped or tucked and she
requires help, one of us goes. And we always come back with
whatever oxy-induced shopping spree Stella goes through while she
heals. This trip presents itself as very lucrative. Aunt Stella
scheduled a whole face-lift, and that means lots of pain pills.
It’ll be heaven, and I haven’t been in years. I also love her tons.
I raise my brows. “How much is Hillcrest worth to you? Because
I’ll be everyone’s favorite junior tonight. Hot, smart, and fun. A triple
threat. I bet I can have Caroline Whitmore eating out of the palm of
my hand…that is if she actually ate.”
Laura tosses her brush at me and laughs. “Done, bitch. There’s
hope for your future yet. Now get dressed. We have a party to
attend.”
 Jackson

I close the door to my new home for the next two weeks.
The empty boarding room is mine during spring break.
Now that I’ve been confirmed for the team and placed as
the number one, I’m here for a rigorous training period. Grey will
mentor me, show me how to run this team, and I’ll get to know the
boys—the ones I’ll be rowing with next year.
It’s all I’d hoped for, but at this moment, I feel the enormity of
what’s happening, and damn it’s overwhelming. I drop my duffle and
reach into the front pocket of my jeans, retrieving my phone. The
screen lights up as I hit the number.
Grabbing the back of my neck, I wait for the voice on the other
end.
“Are you already at the airport?” my brother answers.
Dick.
“Shut up.” I laugh, walking to the unmade bed and moving the
stacked sheets so I can sit. “I was fucking incredible. He never stood
a chance. I beat his weak ass by a mile.”
“Jackson Samuel Price, language.”
Of course, my jackass brother left out I was on speaker.
 “Hi, Momma.” I smile, lying back on the stiff mattress, resting my
phone on my chest.
“I call bullshit—you lost.”
A smack from the other end tells me my mom just delivered one
to the back of Holt’s head. Good.
“Ow, Momma.”
“You deserve it,” I throw out.
He smacks his lips before saying, “Tell the truth, douche. You got
killed.”
My dad’s voice interjects, “Killed is harsh. Have faith in the boy—
maybe it was more maimed, instead of killed.”
My brother laughs on the other end, and each of their voices
speaks over the other. Man, I miss them already.
“Okay. Fine. I’d like to say that I kept up, gave him a run for his
money, but the race was over before it began. He’s fast. However”—
I pause for dramatic effect—“I’m lucky to have the opportunity to
learn from him. I got a spot.”
My mother gasps, and I know she’s got her hand over her
mouth. I also know that she’s probably crying. I feel bad that I
waited so long to call them and share the news, but right after the
race, I hit the ground running. It was a gym tour, school tour,
paperwork given, and a whirlwind of people met.
“You’ll be emailed all the stuff, Dad. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner
—”
“Jackson,” my father says, cutting me off. “We’re proud of you,
son.”
“Thanks, Pops.”
“You did good, loser,” Holt adds. “Mom agrees, but she’s crying.”
I hear her say something but can’t quite make it out in between
the cracks in her voice, and I laugh, knowing Holt’s hugging her. He’s
always been more sensitive to our mom—thank God, because the
woman cries over everything from toilet paper commercials to dog
memes.
But I love her, and her boys would fight anyone outside of us
who laughed at her.
 My father clears his throat before adding, “The whole damn town
is proud. I was telling Mrs. Quinton about it today, and she was
extremely impressed.”
I love how he calls Savannah a town. It isn’t small, but I guess it
is when you come from old money—it tends to equal small circles.
Jesus. New York rich must mean even smaller circles. I’m knee-
deep in the kind of wealth most people think happens only on
television shows, and I have a feeling that nobody here would call
New York a small town. I rub a hand over my cheek, shaking off the
unsureness of my situation, focusing back on my conversation.
“Oh yeah? I didn’t think cantankerous Mrs. Quinton had a nice
word for anybody.”
The woman is mean.
“Well, she has family there, so surprisingly, she was very
positive… Now that I think about it—hell may be freezing over.”
Holt and I laugh at the same time, and my mom joins in. Pops is
always good for levity in any situation. The line quiets down as the
laughter dies, and I suddenly don’t know what to say. I’ve never
been surer about something I want, but this is the longest I’ve been
away from everything I’ve ever known. And when school starts in
the fall, I’ll be here, living a life without my people.
“You must be tired. You should get some rest, baby,” Mom offers,
but I nod instead of answering.
“And don’t you spend too much time worrying about us. We’re
happy to get rid of you for two weeks,” my father jokes, keeping the
grin on my face.
“Yes, sir,” I answer.
Mom sniffles before saying, “The weeks will go by in a split
second, and you’ll be home.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I agree.
“We love you, son.”
“I love you too.”
The line dies, and I stare at the ceiling of my starkly decorated
room. Can you miss people before you leave them? Because I think I
feel that.
 My cell vibrates, and I lift it to my face, swiping it open to the
waiting message.
Holt: Don’t hog all the pussy. I’ll need something to do
when I visit.
I smile and shake my head, rolling over to stand so that I can
make the bed and get a good night’s sleep. Gripping the blanket, I
toss it on the adjacent desk and grab the sheet, just as there’s a
knock on my door.
I look up, but before I can take a step, another knock follows,
harder this time.
“Hold your horses. I’m coming.”
The banging picks up over and over as I take quick steps. My
voice raises as I tug the door open. “What the hell—”
The rest of my sentence vanishes. I’m bum-rushed. All the wind
leaves my body as my feet lift off the ground with a hit to the gut.
Two guys wearing ski masks enter swiftly, shoving a black sack over
my head.
“What the fuck!” I roar.
I swing, connecting with someone because I hear a grunt. Yeah,
asshole, that’s what you get. I’m ready to brawl, but I’m blind. All I
see is black. Hands grab my biceps, throwing me onto the bed and
holding me still as I fight back. I try to kick, but it’s no use. My
palms smack together by force, and the sound of a zip tie fills my
ears as the plastic bites my skin.
“Get the fuck off me,” I growl, struggling against the hold on me.
A voice I don’t recognize whispers close to my ear, “Welcome to
Hillcrest. It’s initiation time, bitch.”
Aww shit.
 Ava

L aura and her friends have been holding court for the last
hour from the stone ledge around an enormous fireplace.
The party is already in full swing. Kids are everywhere,
drinking and smoking. It looks more fun than what I’m doing, which
is sitting in this spot and listening to banal conversations.
They’ve ignored me for most of the night, basically treating me
the same as they do in school. The one thing I’ve noticed, though, is
Laura wasn’t lying when she said they run this school. Every boy
seems to want to sleep with them, and the girls smile but only to
conceal their jealousy. I guess I never paid much attention to the
inner workings of the popular girls before, but now that I am, it’s
more frightening and just as lame as I assumed.
Although, currently, I’m massively entertained by the
conversation playing out in front of me.
Liam, a hot crew team charmer, who’s hosting the party, walks up
to Caroline, reaching out to tickle her side. It’s so weird because the
Caroline I’ve heard rumors about would have someone’s hand
removed for touching her. Liam seems to have a different set of
rules. My shoulder leans into the wall as I watch their stare-off.
 Caroline tosses her long brown hair over her shoulder. “The
expression you’re wearing is as ugly as the shirt you have on, Liam.
What do you want?”
It takes everything in my control not to laugh as my eyes jump
between them, but Liam just stares down at her under his divinely
long lashes.
“Carebear.” The way he says it makes my lips minutely tip up.
“Drink this so you can be more of a funshine than a grumpy.”
She swats at the cup, but he moves it away before she connects.
Oh shit.
“I hate you,” she spits.
He winks. “You wish that were true. I’m going to hang out with
my real friends now.”
Damn.
She doesn’t respond as he walks off to scoop up a girl named
Donovan, making her squeal. Caroline scowls—looks like she doesn’t
like that.
These are the days of Hillcrest’s lives.
Laura questions the group, pulling my attention, “Hey, did
anyone meet the new crew guy? I heard he’s from Georgia.” That
piques my interest as she continues. “I think Atlanta. God, those
accents are hot. I’m going to talk to him tonight.”
The other girls shake their heads as I look at them. Laura applies
more lip gloss, and I take another drink of my water. Looking around
the room, I let myself get lost in my thoughts, blocking out the new
conversation about Laura’s brand of gloss. Jesus, I should have
asked for more to be stuck here with these girls. Maybe if I just slip
away, nobody will even notice. It’s beginning to feel like being forced
to talk about makeup and whatever runway looks they’re obsessed
with was too much of a price to pay.
I tap my cousin’s shoulder. “Ladies’ room. I’ll be back.”
She nods, and I push away from the stone fireplace and point in
the assumed direction. “This way, right?”
“Yeah, but there’s a more private one by the front door. Drunk
guys pee on seats a lot.”
 “Eww. Okay.” I take a step to slide in between two groups of
people when a light touch to my wrist spins me around. Caroline
leans forward from where she’s seated and gives me her megawatt
smile.
“Bring me back champagne. And be quick, Laura’s cousin.”
She might be smiling, but that doesn’t mask her rudeness. This
girl just treated me like the help. Is she joking?
I look at Laura, who glares at me with insistence, as if to urge
me to say “Okay,” but I shake my head.
“Why are you still standing here?” Caroline adds, looking over at
her other friend laughing at me.
I hold up a finger, and not the one I want. “Yeah…no.” Oh God,
what am I doing? Despite the internal panic, I huff a laugh.
“Carebear, you’ll need to get your own drink. Or send Laura. I’m sure
she’s happy to be your little helper.”
What am I doing? I know—digging my own grave.
Turning around, I push through the crowd of people. I am so out
of here. I’m sure Caroline is throwing daggered looks at me, ones
that will probably turn me to stone if I look back. But I refuse to
care. I’m not some lackey for her to mistreat. If that’s popularity, I’m
all good.
My feet can’t walk fast enough, and not because I have to pee.
This party was such a bad idea. I’m not like my cousin, and this is
proof. I can’t suck up to some girl who’s appointed herself a queen.
There is absolutely nothing here for me—nerd crew for life, bitches.
I reach for the bathroom door, but before I can twist the handle,
a group of guys busts through the front doors, yelling and chanting.
What the hell? They’re half carrying, half dragging what looks like a
kidnap victim on CNN.
They set him to his feet as I try to move around them, but I stay
caught up in the mix, trapped against the wall yet included in the
circle.
“Georgia’s in the house!” is bellowed as the kidnappers yank the
hood off his head.
Hello, new crew guy.
 Loud cheering mixed with more thumping bass fills the room,
and my eyes grow wide, taking it all in. I’ve heard the crew team
does an initiation for new members, but I always thought that it was
some archaic form of humiliation, not an all-out rager on their
behalf.
The guy holds up his wrists. “Set me free. I can’t get blackout
drunk if you don’t let me try.”
He’s joking, that much is evident by his broad smile, but it’s his
laugh that makes me giggle too. He’s larger than life. His energy is
infectious. The deep bass fills my ears, and suddenly, my anger over
Caroline is replaced by fascination—over him.
Whoa, hormones.
He runs his hand through his unruly tousled black hair, letting out
a whoop before accepting pats on the back and jokes from the
crowd around us. I feel like a fly on the wall, watching the scene
unfold, and my interest is doing a lousy job of staying hidden.
Shit! I have to pee.
I try to slip sideways to get out of the way, but I halt again,
bumped by a large body as more people gather.
“Excuse me,” I breathe out, feeling like I need to pee even more.
“Sorry, can I get around? I need the ladies’ room. It’s right next to
you.”
The linebacker next to me ignores my request, so I tap his arm
to ask again, but he still ignores me.
“Thanks,” I grumble quietly.
I look back to the center of the group for another way out, when
I lock eyes with one blue eye and one green. The guest of honor is
staring right at me. And Georgia’s cute. Like—Really. Damn. Cute.
“You’re pretty,” he mouths, eyes trained on me, while taking the
drink extended to him.
My brain has stopped working. Say thank you, Ava. Say anything.
Jesus. My mouth is on a very shy lag, and although I mean to be
polite, all that comes out is, “I have to pee.”
He reaches out, grabbing my waist, causing my head to dart
down to where the warmth of his hand has landed. Before I can
object, he pulls me closer, almost flush to his broad, muscular frame.
 “Whoa,” I say, in a hushed tone.
He spins us, walking me backward a few steps, keeping our eyes
locked.
“Trust me, darlin’.”
What the fuck is happening? I swallow hard, drawn to his lips
and the way they look like they’re just about to smile. This one is t-r-
o-u-b-l-e. And here I was about to leave. I don’t even remember
why anymore. He stops us and puts the Solo cup between his teeth,
dangling it as he leans in, pressing us even closer.
One hand rests on my lower back, and the other… What’s his
other hand doing?
I blink a few times, snapping out of the moment, before twisting
my head over my shoulder to see the bathroom door push open.
“Ask, and you shall receive,” he says between his teeth.
I giggle and take a step back inside the bathroom, closing the
door, but not before I grin a thank you.
Holy hell. Oh my God. Okay, Ava. Calm down. I run my hand over
my curly blonde hair and stare down at my white Gucci sneakers as I
let out a long breath. My stomach tightens, reminding me that I
need to pee, so I hurriedly unbutton my pants and do what I came
here to do. Once I finish, I stand up, wiggling my tight jeans back
over my hips, and zip them before retucking my shirt.
I look at the closed door as I walk to the sink. Is he waiting out
there? Oh my God, this is so awkward and amazing all at the same
time. What was all that? My stomach flips as I think about the
moment, as if a million butterflies took flight at the same time inside
of me.
The water runs over my hands as I wash them, biting my lip, lost
in my head. I glance in the mirror—damn, I should’ve done my hair
cuter—and let out another breath. I swear it feels like he took my
breath away. And if that wasn’t one of the most dramatic thoughts
I’ve ever had, I might give in to it more. Giggling to myself, I take a
towel and dry my hands before tossing it in the basket.
“Okay. Just be cool. It’s fine,” I whisper a pep talk to myself.
“Super-popular hot guys talk to you all the time. This is standard
practice for someone so mint.”
 These lies aren’t working. I drop my head with a groan mixed
with another laugh because I’m not sure I could be any more
embarrassing. It’s stupid, but I almost don’t want to reach for the
door handle. But before I can chicken out and effectively move into
the bathroom, I twist and open the door, all the noise turning back
to full volume. My brows draw together as I step out. After all my
bathroom preparation, a dismissive look greets me from some
random girl—no Georgia in sight.
I step out farther, as the girl walks around me, and search the
room, landing on him almost immediately, but my nose scrunches up
as I see him tip his head back and laugh at something Laura says
while he hands Caroline a cup.
I hope she chokes on it.
Dammit. It only took a few minutes before my newfound
treasure became trash.
 Jackson

I haven’t heard a word anyone’s been saying in the last five

minutes. I just keep laughing when everyone else does,
because damn if I’m not getting a neck cramp from
looking at that bathroom door.
Where is she? Man, she’s pretty. All those angelic curls and
plump red lips—she nearly buckled my knees. And so tiny—good for
picking up and doing what I want.
“Huh?” I answer to whoever just said my name as my eyes dart
to the door again. Two girls walk out, bringing my brows together
before I see the front door close. Shit. I look back at the people in
front of me. “Sorry, ladies, I’ll be back. Nice meetin’ y’all.”
I hear the giggles and whispers as I leave. Being a Southern
gentleman never loses its effect on girls. But I’m unconcerned with
them. I want the doe-eyed angel. I maneuver around people,
making my way to the front, and rush outside.
The gravel crunches under my heavy footsteps as I jog up behind
her. She looks over her shoulder, arms crossed, but turns away just
as quickly. Where’s the fire? I thought we’d had a moment.
“Wait up. Come on, girl.”
 She whips around and stares at me, zero humor on her face.
Dang, what did I do?
“Girl? The accent is all that saves you.”
A smirk peeks out on my face. “Pretty and feisty. I think I’m in
love. Tell me your name.”
“No.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You gonna make me work for it?”
“Absolutely. I’m disappointed you don’t already know it.”
She says it with conviction, but her cheeks are already red. Aww
man, she’s secretly shy too. She keeps getting better and better.
“You’re pretty,” I offer and bite my bottom lip.
“You said that already.”
She starts playing with a stray curl, chewing the inside of her
cheek while batting those long black lashes at me.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it,” I counter, eyes still locked.
Goddamn. I don’t ever want to leave this driveway. She blinks at
me a few times and waves her hand, playfully rolling her blue eyes.
“I bet you could charm me right out of my panties.”
I take a step closer, feeling the heat between us. “I wouldn’t
mind if you let me try.”
She holds her breath as she looks up at me, finally sighing
quietly. We stand in more silence, and I watch her tongue wet her
lips. I don’t even know her name, but I want to kiss her—badly.
“I have to go now,” she whispers.
“Stay,” I rush out, reaching down for her hand.
Her head shakes as she pulls it away. “Why?”
“Why not?” I answer, taking her fingers back between mine and
tilting my head. “One drink.”
Waiting for her answer feels like the longest pause of my life.
“Only one.”
I bring her hand up and kiss the top before speaking my words
into her skin. “That’s half more than I need, sweetheart.”
She giggles, and I drop her hand to grab the loop on her jeans,
tugging her forward as I take steps backward.
“You’re trouble, Georgia.”
 I lift the side of my top lip, giving a grr before turning around
and pulling her behind me back into the party.
 Ava

T he minute we walk back inside, the spell breaks. My

cousin and her band of merry assholes are staring at
me like they’re going to fillet me. Shit. Georgia still has his finger
looped through my jeans, dragging me deeper into the party. And
the impact of my action isn’t lost on me—I told them to eat shit and
then stole the guy they were talking to. If I didn’t want to cringe, I’d
be celebrating.
He slaps hands with a few guys, before ponying up to a bar next
to a pool table. His heavy arm leaves my jeans and drapes over my
shoulder.
“Beer? No, you’re fancy. Champagne?”
My nose scrunches up. “Not fancy, and water is fine. But feel free
to have whatever you’d like.”
He looks at me, puzzled but intrigued by my answer before
saying, “Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage
of me?”
“Maybe.” I shrug only to get half tickled.
I laugh. “Quit.” But his arm curls around my neck, pulling me in
as he lowers down.
 “It’s your lucky day. I’m a ho. You don’t even need to get me
drunk.”
“Oh,” I answer with faux-surprised, amused eyes. “Nice sell. Are
you the full STD package, or do you only come with the herp?”
He laughs loudly, and I look around, embarrassed by the
attention it draws.
“I like you,” he says to my profile, making me blush.
I don’t look at him as I answer.
“You say weird stuff. I thought the popular guys were better at
this kind of thing.”
I know he’s still staring at me, but I can’t look at him. God, he
makes me so nervous.
“I thought the pretty girls weren’t as cool as you. So I guess
perceptions are deceiving.”
I guess so because something tells me there’s way more to him
than crew team and “hooking up.” He’s putting in a lot of work with
a girl he doesn’t know.
Looking everywhere but at Georgia leads me to confirm I’m still
enemy numero uno. Laura leans in and nods as Caroline says
something to her. It makes me bring a finger to my mouth to chew
on my nail.
It looks like flying under the radar for the rest of the year isn’t
happening anymore.
A quick burst of cold air blows on the side of my face, jarring me.
“What the—”
“You’re ignoring me. And I’m giving grade A charm over here.”
“Sorry.” I look again to see Laura walking my way, but she gets
caught up with one of the crew guys. “I don’t think being here is a
good idea.”
“Why?” His gaze follows mine.
“I pissed off some people earlier, and I was making a very cool
exit when I got caught up in you.”
Our faces meet as I say it.
“You’re caught up in me?”
I squirm out from his arm and hitch a finger over my shoulder.
“You know what I mean. This’s been fun. And you are so cute, and I
really want to stay, but I’m going to go.”
I take a step back, but he reaches for my hand. “Wait. If you’re
telling me that all I need to do to hang out with you is bounce from
this party, then I’m saying lead the way.”
I’m dumbfounded. Is he serious? He doesn’t even know my
name.
“You’re the guest of honor.”
He doesn’t say anything, just shrugs.
“It was thrown for you,” I press, but he smiles.
“I’m aware of the definition, Pretty, but I want to hang out with
you. And don’t tell me we can exchange numbers and see each
other later because I’m going back home after the break.”
I open my mouth to interrupt, but his finger falls on my lips,
hushing me.
“For the next two weeks, I’ll be buried under practices and
training. All we have is tonight. And I want it with you. And I don’t
mean that in a dirty way. I’m weird, I know, but I like you.”
His hand, which is now on my waist, kneads. “Take a risk. It
could be the time of your life.”
Take a risk. Hmm. Tonight could actually be the time of my life.
I let out a groan meant to make it look as if I’m debating, but I’m
not.
“I thought my Friday night was going to be a total waste.”
His eyebrows wag. “Come on, girl. Let me make it worth your
while.”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he’s dragging me back
out the way we came. This time we’re hand in hand, a stolen bottle
of Fireball under his arm.
 Jackson

W e’re halfway down the driveway when my pretty

hostage bumps a shoulder into my bicep. “Hey. Where
are we going? And how are we getting there?”
I stop in my tracks and look down. “Damn, I hadn’t thought that
far. I rode with those guys from earlier. Did you come with the girls
giving you the evil eye?”
She looks surprised that I noticed, but they weren’t exactly
hiding it.
“I have a car. And my cousin…” she says with a raised brow. “She
can drive back with her shitty friends. I’ve decided I don’t care about
their wrath—but not enough to go back inside though.”
I nod, amused by her honesty.
“That explains the water. You’re the DD.”
Her smirk gives away the answer. Now I’m glad I swiped the
Fireball. Tonight’s about to get real fun. I pull my phone out of my
pocket. “We’ll get an Uber.”
She giggles, and I love it.
“It’ll take one forever out here. I’ll drive. Plus, I’m not drinking—
not just because I’m the DD. But because stuff like Fireball will take
away all my ability to make good decisions around you.”
“You say that like it’s a terrible thing.”
The scowl on my face is playful as I follow her to a white Range
Rover, but not before I leave the bottle on top of a random hood. I
walk around the passenger side of her car, but she doesn’t unlock
the door.
Her head peeks around the windshield. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I answer back, looking at her with one hand on the
handle.
She looks nervous, chewing her bottom lip as her eyes search
mine.
“We can hang out, but I have one condition.”
“Name it.”
“No names.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
She walks to speak over the hood.
“I mean, not our real ones. I’m taking your dare, being
spontaneous, but you’re a risk for me. I don’t want my name passed
around.” I want to stop her, reassure her that I would never do that,
but she keeps speaking. “Whatever trouble we find or don’t find
tonight would follow me all next year. Let’s just be other people.”
This girl. She keeps it interesting.
“You realize I could just ask someone tomorrow.” I hate to state
the obvious because she’s so adorably invested, but there’s no way
I’ll forget this girl.
“Yeah, you could. Or you could find out when we start school,
but by then, you’ll have a hundred other stories to tell. I’ll probably
be the least interesting. You’re the big news here, not me. I have
more to lose. You know, double standards and all.”
I put my palms on the shiny hood. “Oh, I don’t know about that.
But if I’m the hot topic, how do I know you won’t spread stuff
around about me?”
I’m joking with her, giving her a hard time. Frankly, I’d agree to
just about anything to sit next to her and have a burger. Her head
draws back, and she looks affronted, legitimately offended, and it
makes me chuckle.
 “You’re kidding, right? First, I’m nobody at Hillcrest—therefore,
nobody listens to me. Second, I would never. I’m not an asshole.”
“And I am?”
Her mouth opens, then closes just as quickly. She lets out a
breath and shrugs. “I don’t know. Are you?”
I get it. The crew team equals asshole. Not that I helped
dissuade the stereotype with all my “let me charm you out of your
panties” bullshit. But even still, she’s here—giving me a chance.
She’s trusting me, and where I come from, that means something.
“Deal. No real names. And I’ll forget about you tomorrow.”
She gives a wink and presses the fob, making the car door click.
I grab the handle, pulling the door open. We both plop inside and
look at each other, smiling.
“An anonymous night,” I ponder aloud.
She puts the key in the car, its engine roaring to life. “Yeah, we
can be whoever we want to be. No consequences. Now that we both
agree, it’ll be our dirty little secret.”
Please, God, let it be dirty.
“All right…Miss—”
Before backing up, her hand on the wheel, she stares at me,
giving me an answer.
“Scarlett.” Her eyes twinkle with mischief, and I swear I’d do a lot
of devious shit to see that again.
I chuckle as I twist to click my seat belt in place but look back at
her. “Like the girl in the movie Clue.”
She nods enthusiastically at the reference. “You like that movie
too? It’s underrated for sure.”
“Well, mysterious Scarlett, you can call me Jackson.”

The car ride was full to the brim with awkward silences and
sentences that were spoken over each other as we drove because
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