Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Kiss Test, Take Two
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Jax says in my ear, shouting over the music as we enter the Theta Kappa Gamma House the most popular sorority on Greek Row.
I know this is a bad idea. Still, I’m going through with it. Yup, I can be stubborn like that. Besides, if my friend Emerson managed to attend and enjoy one of these events than so could I. Although Em was on the arm of a rockstar’s son, but whatever here I am.
It’s a Friday night and their TGIF parties are supposed to be killer, at least that’s what I’ve heard.
From the swarm of people crammed into every bit of available space, to the tacky, red Solo cups being filled with beer, nothing about this party scene is me.
It’s worse than I imagined. Luckily, it’s not one of their themed nights.
Even so, I already boasted about my asinine plan to both Cal and now Jax, so I can’t very well back down now, right?
Right! My foolish pride demands that I continue.
At least the tight, green, snakeskin print mini dress I’m wearing is in line with the other barely there outfits in the room.
Jax picked it out for me from one of her TikTok wardrobe try-on discards after announcing that the color makes my green eyes pop.
She’s the fashion guru, not me, so I followed her advice for a change.
I actually bothered to use my hair iron this evening too, and the stilettos I have on are giving me a few extra inches of confidence.
Problem is, it’s my first time taking them out for a spin, and the slingback straps are cutting into my skin already.
I’ll be putting on Band-Aids tonight. Speaking of which, it’s time to rip one off.
My lack of kissing experience, that is. One way to find out how I feel, once and for all.
It’s just lip smacking, no biggie, I repeat to myself, hoping I’ll eventually believe my own head trash. My kiss barometer might be broken, but my bullshit detector isn’t.
Scanning the room, I search for a possible candidate and encounter the exact pair of brown eyes I’m trying to forget.
From across the room, Cal’s gaze roams up and down the length of me, and it sends a thrill through my entire body.
When he finally returns his stare to mine, his eyes are narrowed and my stomach tightens.
I squelch the urge to flee. Instead, I shoot him a similar glower back.
Cal is standing next to Morgan Hyatt, the gorgeous Theta Kappa Gamma president.
We’ve shared a class together, but I’ve never spoken to her.
She’s tall, gorgeous, vivacious, and everything I’m not.
Still, her shallow reputation precedes her.
Even her own sisters are eager for her to graduate this year.
With a laugh she shoots Cal an inviting look that I can read from over here.
Why do I even care if he’s here talking with attractive women? And why am I crossing the room toward him? Jax stops my progress by pulling on my arm. She then shoves a filled, red cup in my hand.
“Here, I have a feeling you’re going to need this.” I nod, accepting the drink. “And I’ll be over there if you need me,” she says, pointing toward the kitchen area, where a line of hockey players are waiting to tap a keg.
I slosh the drink back but choke upon swallowing. My wicked friend didn’t give me a draft, as I had assumed, but some sort of licorice liqueur. Once the shock subsides, it feels nice on my throat and my muscles are no longer wound up as tight.
“What are you doing here?” comes Cal’s voice from behind me and I do a slight jump. I’d been too busy choking to notice his approach. So much for my calmed nerves.
“You know why I’m here,” I retort, giving Cal my own once-over.
Everything checks out. Hot, hot, hot! “Why are you here? I thought you don’t like the party scene, or at least that’s why you broke up with ‘Trina.’” I’m not sure why I did air quotes when saying Trina’s name.
It doesn’t even make sense to emphasize that, but I did.
“One of the reasons,” he corrects, “and you’re right. I hate these parties.”
I wave my hand around the room. “Again, then why are you here?”
He sighs and gives me a pointed look. “I’m here for you.”
I feel the air rush out of my lungs, his words deflating my temper as quickly as a popped balloon.
Cal leans closer. “Steel mentioned that you and Jax might be coming here tonight, so I thought I’d keep an eye on the two of you.”
My inner pride balloon reinflates. “Gee, thanks, dad,” I mutter.
Cal cocks his head to the side, his face tense and tortured. “So, you’re determined to do this,” he says, not asking it as a question.
I accomplish a weak nod despite the lump rising in my throat. A muscle ticks in Cal’s jaw and it’s fascinating. I’m tempted to lick it. Shaking my head, I clear my mind of those thoughts.
Cal downs whatever was in his own red cup and bobs his head. “And who’s the lucky guy?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I fire back with as much bravado as I can muster, once again scanning the crowded house. A couple is crawling on their hands and knees up the steps of the grand staircase leading to the rooms above, while some guy is puking over the railing. No kissing candidates there.
“You’re just going to walk up to some dude and make out?”
“What, like it’s hard?” I say flippantly, doing my best Elle Woods from Legally Blonde impression. Cal does not look impressed and I shrug, absently putting down my empty cup on a side table.
“Argh,” Cal growls aloud in frustration.
Literally, he just growled at me, and for some reason, I find it hot, provoking him to such a degree. I’m tempted to growl back when I spot a guy we know sitting on a couch with a group of athletes from the catch-all “Sports House.”
I tilt my head toward the sofa and our neighbor from across the hall, Van, who’s busy showing another guy something on his phone before erupting into laughter. “Van isn’t a stranger,” I reason aloud. “He’d be perfect. He’s funny, nice, and he’s always inviting me to stuff.”
Cal curses and rubs a hand over his face. “I’m funny,” he says, stabbing a thumb at his chest. “I’m nice, and I’m always inviting you to stuff, too, just not here.”
“Yes, but you, you …” I trail off, not sure what point I’m trying to make anymore.
Cal shoots me an annoyed look. “That’s right, I’m a player,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not to be trusted, but Van the linebacker is.”
I start to nod in agreement but stop myself. That was how I used to think of Cal. Not anymore?
“Howdy, neighbors,” Van says, appearing next to us, all smiles. “Someone say my name?”
“No!” Cal says, shoving him toward the kitchen. “Grab me a refill, will you, bro?” Visibly alarmed, Van throws us a stunned look over his shoulder, but eventually he follows Cal’s order.
I arch an eyebrow at Cal. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“Not Van,” he says definitively. I start to argue, but Cal interrupts. “You don’t want things to be awkward afterward since he lives right across from you.”
It’s sound reasoning, although the irony is not lost on me that Cal is also my neighbor and that didn’t stop him from kissing me, but whatever. Besides, I like Van, I’m just not sure if I like like him. It’s true, a stranger would probably be better and easier to avoid after.
“I can’t believe you’re at a sorority event,” Cal continues, shaking his head, pretty much echoing my own thoughts as some girl bumps into me without bothering to say sorry.
Why can’t I be at a raging Greek party? Am I so boring, so uptight, it’s not to be believed?
I place a hand on my hip and stick out my chest in defiance.
Cal’s eyes lower to my breasts, and for a second, I try to remember why I’m mad.
“That’s right,” I say, repeating his phrase and tone from earlier. “I’m not like the girls you know.”
“Exactly,” he says, nodding, and I want to kick him in the shins. But with these heels, I’d likely fall on my ass right in the middle of this party, thus illustrating precisely why I don’t belong here.
“Why? Because I’m not cool enough or pretty enough to be in a sorority, never mind attend one of their stupid clique parties?”
He flinches as if I did in fact kick him.
“Fuck no, that’s not why! They’d be lucky to have someone as beautiful and real as you as a member.
I only meant that you’re way too smart and original to follow the orders of someone like Morgan Hyatt.
” Cal flicks his head toward the sorority president he’d just been talking with.
My temper decreases by several notches upon hearing this, but I’m still annoyed that he thinks he knows where I belong.
“Well, I’m sorry if I’m not like the girls you know, the type who would come here and hang on your arm, not the fun, go-with-the-flow chick who likes to stay up late and listen to music instead of preparing for her classes the next day. ”
Again, Cal throws me a confused look. “April?” he asks cautiously, like he’s talking to an insane woman and hell, maybe he is, because ever since he moved next door, he’s been driving me crazy, one song and smirk at a time.
I feel like I no longer know who I am or what I want anymore.
“Why do you keep saying ‘not like the girls you know?’”
“I’m simply using your own words.”
Cal glances around, as if double-checking that I’m still speaking to him and not someone else. “My words?”
“Yours.” I poke his chest in confirmation. “She’s not like you,” I repeat, doing my best Cal impression. “That is literally what you said about me to some giggly girl hanging out in your room the first week of school.”
Cal opens his mouth to argue, but then closes it, recollection dawning on his handsome face.
Bingo! Look who has caught on to the conversation.
He’s shaking his head, though. “April, I meant that as a compliment.”
“In what world is that a compliment?”
“Seriously, I meant it in a good way. I was defending you.”