The Deal

I officially take back my earlier claim—I wish I hadn’t convinced her to wear that top. For some reason, the appreciative stares she’s receiving really piss me off. But I swallow the possessive caveman urges and try to enjoy the party. The crowd is more football than hockey, but I still know almost everyone there, which causes Hannah to mutter, “Jeez. How do you know all these people?”


I smirk at her. “I told you I’m popular. Hey, there’s Beau. Come on, let’s go over and say hi.”

Beau Maxwell is the typical college quarterback. He’s got it all—the looks, the swagger, and most important, the talent. But although anyone else in his position might think it’s their right to be a total douchebag, Beau’s actually kinda decent. He’s a history major like me, and he looks genuinely happy to see me tonight.

“G, you made it! Here, try this.” He holds out a bottle of…something. The bottle is black and has no label, so I have no clue what he’s offering.

“What is it?” I ask with a grin.

Beau grins back. “Moonshine courtesy of Big Joe’s sister. This shit is potent.”

“Yeah? Then get it the hell away from me. I’ve got a game tomorrow afternoon. Can’t show up with a moonshine hangover.”

“Fair enough.” He bats his baby blues at Hannah. “You want some, honey?”

“No, thanks.”

“Beau, Hannah. Hannah, Beau,” I introduce.

“Why do you look so familiar?” Beau demands, looking her up and down. “Where do I know you fr—oh shit, I know. I saw you sing in the spring showcase last year.”

“Really? You were there?”

Hannah sounds simultaneously surprised and pleased, and I wonder if maybe I’ve been living on a different planet or some shit, because how am I the only one who doesn’t know about these showcases?

“Damn straight I was there,” Beau declares. “And you were awesome. You sang…what was it again? “Stand By Me,” I think?”

She nods.

I wrinkle my forehead as I glance at her. “I thought you were only allowed to sing originals.”

“That’s a senior level requirement,” she explains. “Freshmen and sophomores can sing whatever they want because they’re not in the running for the scholarships.”

“Yeah, my sister had to sing an original,” Beau tells us. “She was in the senior group. Joanna Maxwell? Do you know her?”

Hannah gasps. “Joanna’s your sister? I heard she landed a part on Broadway this summer.”

“She did!” Beau beams with pride. “My big sis is a Broadway star. How ‘bout that?”

We’re drawing even more stares now that we’re chatting with the birthday boy, but Hannah seems oblivious to it. I, on the other hand, am annoyingly aware of the attention—from one person in particular. Kohl has just entered the living room, and his lips pinch when our gazes meet. I nod in hello, then turn my head and very deliberately plant a kiss on Hannah’s cheek.

Her head jerks up in surprise, so I justify the random gesture by saying, “I’ll be right back. Going to grab another beer.”

“Okay.” She instantly turns back to Beau and they continue chatting about his sister.

I’m not sensing any romantic interest on her part, though, which brings an odd pang of relief. The real threat is across the room, and he marches purposefully in our direction the second I step away from Hannah and Beau.

I intercept Justin before he can reach the chatting duo, giving him a casual slap on the arm. “Kohl. Great party, huh?”

His nod is absent-minded, his gaze still focused beyond my shoulder at Hannah. Fuck. Can he actually be interested in her? I figured this big charade of ours wouldn’t result in anything I needed to worry about, but evidently my plan is working too well. Kohl only has eyes for Hannah, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.

I glance at his empty hands and grin. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

“Naah, I’m good.” He’s already brushing past me, heading right where I don’t want him to go.

The moment Hannah notices Justin, her cheeks turn pink and a startled look crosses her eyes, but she recovers quickly and greets him with a hesitant smile.

Oh hell no. My back snaps straighter than a hockey stick. I want to stalk over there and yank her away from Kohl. Or better yet, yank her right into my arms and kiss the living daylights out of her.

I do neither—because this time I’m the one being intercepted.

Kendall appears in my path, her long blond hair braided over one shoulder, the tail end of it dangling in her cleavage. She’s dressed to the nines in a teeny red dress and impossibly high heels, but her expression is stormy as fuck.

“Hi,” she says tightly.

“Hey.” I clear my throat. “How’s it going?”

Her lips flatten in displeasure. “Seriously? You’re on a date and that’s what you say to me?”

Shit. Half my attention remains on Hannah, who is now laughing at something Kohl said. Thankfully Beau is still there to serve as a buffer, but I’m not happy to see her and Justin looking so chummy.

The rest of my attention is on Kendall, who I’m suddenly afraid might make a scene.

“You said you didn’t want a girlfriend,” she hisses out.

“I don’t,” I’m quick to reply.