Chapter 2
TWO
Three days had passed since the bachelor auction, and I was still fucking pissed.
The black T-shirt sitting on my desk mocked me every time I looked at it—#TinsleyHypeCrew in obnoxious white letters across the chest.
Harper had left a Post-it note on our front door this morning.
Saturday. 7 PM. Recital Hall.
Don’t be late, Andy.
And that had just enraged me further. She knew I fucking hated that name.
The worst part? I actually had to show up. Three hundred dollars was three hundred dollars, and as much as I wanted to tell Harper Tinsley exactly where she could shove her recital, I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of saying I’d backed out.
That didn’t mean I had to make it easy for her, though.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found what I was looking for. Jake Morrison was another CFU hockey player who happened to work for the maintenance department as part of his work-study job.
“Jake? It’s Monty. Listen, I need a favor.”
Twenty minutes later, I was walking across campus actually feeling good for the first time since Saturday night’s bachelor auction.
Harper’s recital was this weekend, which meant she’d be camped out in those practice rooms for the next few days, perfecting whatever piece she was planning to torture an audience with.
Too bad those practice rooms were about to be mysteriously inaccessible.
As long as my man Jake could pull through.
My phone vibrated from my pants pocket and I pulled it out, a Cheshire-cat grin spreading across my face when I saw Jake’s name.
“Please tell me you’ve got good news for me.”
“I think you’ll find this news better than good knowing how much Harper pisses you off.
So here’s the plan,” he said, and I could practically hear the grin in his voice.
“I’ll lock down the practice rooms around noon tomorrow—put up some ‘Maintenance in Progress’ signs, make it look official.
Then I’ll keep my supervisor busy on the other side of campus with some made-up emergency.
Rod never answers his phone anyway, so even if someone calls about the rooms being locked, good luck reaching him. ”
“And you’re sure this won’t blow back on you?”
“Nah, Rod is notorious for forgetting to tell people about maintenance schedules. Everyone just assumes he screwed up the communication again. Happens at least once a month.”
Perfect. Harper’s precious practice time would be fucked, and she’d have to scramble to prepare for her recital with whatever scraps of time she could find elsewhere.
“Thanks, man. I owe you one.”
I hung up as I made my way across campus toward the hockey house, an extra spring in my step as I pictured Harper’s face when she showed up to practice tomorrow. Yeah, she could practice at home, but everyone knew the practice rooms were like heaven for the music students.
She’d probably figure out it was me eventually—she was smarter than I wanted to admit—but by then it’d be too late. She’d lose her precious practice time and have to perform knowing she wasn’t as ready as she should be.
Maybe next time she’d think twice before humiliating me in front of half the campus.
The thing about Harper Tinsley was that she never backed down from a fight. She was smart, determined, and knew exactly how to hit where it hurt. The bachelor auction proved that—she’d turned what should have been my moment of triumph into her personal victory lap.
Well, she was about to learn that two could play that game.
I was still smiling when I got back to the house and found Gordy in the kitchen, building what appeared to be a sandwich with every lunch meat we owned.
He glanced up as I walked in and immediately raised an eyebrow. “You look way too happy. Should I be worried?”
“Nope,” I said, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “Just evening the score with Harper Tinsley after Saturday night.”
He arched a brow.
“She got me good with that whole assistant setup. Three hundred dollars to make me look like an idiot.”
“You mean by bidding on you during the event that you volunteered for?”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?” He reached for the mustard. “You signed up, she bid and won. So she didn’t want to actually go on a date with you. Big deal. She still gave us three hundred bucks for equipment and travel costs.”
I stared at him. “She humiliated me in front of half the campus.”
“Did she though?” He assembled the rest of his sandwich. “I mean, she paid three hundred bucks for your time, whether it’s a date or this recital thing. It doesn’t seem like it needs to be that big a deal.”
“You don’t get it and besides, it doesn’t matter because she had this coming You can never let a Tinsley think they’ve won.”
Gordy paused mid-bite. “What did you do?”
I shrugged. “Nothing major. Just made sure the practice rooms are going to be unavailable this week.”
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
He set his sandwich down. “Come on, man.”
“What?”
“That’s fucked up, even for you. You’re not just screwing her over, but any other music student who needs to use those rooms.” He leaned back against the counter, studying me. “What is it with you and this girl?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve been pulling shit on Harper Tinsley for as long as I’ve known you. Why? Is there a point to it or what?”
I took a long drink of my beer, buying time.
How was I supposed to explain decades of family bullshit and the way she looked right through me like I didn’t exist?
How she made me feel like that twelve-year-old kid who’d had a crush on her before I learned the hard way why you should never trust a Tinsley.
“She’s a Tinsley.”
The excuse fell off my tongue with ease, but Gordy’s stare like he was waiting for more of an explanation left a niggling sensation at the back of my neck that I hated. Why couldn’t he just support me without asking questions?
When I didn’t elaborate, he picked up his sandwich again.
The uncomfortable twist in my chest returned. “She shouldn’t have messed with me at the auction.”
Gordy stared at me thoughtfully as he chewed and then gave a subtle shrug. “If you say so.”
His casual indifference was somehow worse than if he’d argued with me. I stared at my beer, trying to figure out why his reaction bothered me so much.
“Look, she started this,” I said finally. “I’m just finishing it.”
“Started what, exactly?” Gordy picked up his plate and put it in the dishwasher before walking toward the stairs. “Because from where I’m sitting, this looks like you two going back and forth for however long you’ve been at each other’s throats. So, how’s this supposed to end?”
He gave me a look before he walked out without another word, and I took another swig of my beer.
I’d been born into this feud. How the hell was I supposed to know how to end it? Every time I thought I’d gotten the upper hand on Tinsley, she retaliated in kind. And I could not, under any circumstances, let her have the last word.
My phone buzzed with a text.
Liam
Murphy’s at 9?
Me
See you there.
Getting drunk at the only bar in town where we could use our fake IDs would be a good distraction. And if I played my cards right, maybe I could find some uncomplicated fun with a girl who didn’t make me question every stupid decision I’d ever made like a certain curly-haired redhead always did.