He Loves Me Not (Game Changers #2)

Prologue

Ava

One Drunken Night…

Playing childhood games to sort out our futures was a bad idea. I know this because my head is swimming from the four bottles of wine we demolished, I've got a small pile of flower petals in front of me… and my future is not looking rosy.

"It's settled," I say, flopping back against the cushions of Emelia's couch. "He loves me not."

According to the petals, Dawson Iverson, my new stepbrother and the hottest wide receiver on the planet, hates me. I am not sad about this. I'm not. It doesn't even matter if I might, maybe, possibly have the tiniest crush on him.

"What?" Seraphina peers over at me through glossy eyes. "Says who?"

"The petals." I wave in their direction. "I plucked two. The truth has been revealed."

"Bullshit," Nova says, scooping up petals, only to sprinkle them across my legs like some crazed flower girl. "I refuse to believe those petals are telling you the truth. Are you sure you did it right?"

"How do you do it wrong?" Emelia asks. "You pluck the dang petals. I definitely did my cootie catcher wrong, though." She glowers at the folded paper on the coffee table in front of her. "I'm too drunk to count, and that's why it landed on Royce."

"It's a cootie catcher, not rocket science, Em," Seraphina says, laughing. "You did it right."

"Did not," she grumbles, poking the folded paper like she thinks it might bite her. "There's no way it landed on him twice."

"Royce and Emelia sitting in a tree," Nova sings, flopping backward across a pillow on the floor.

"Real mature, Nova." Emelia throws a pen at her, earning loud laughter in response. "We're still waiting for you decide if you're going to fuck, marry, or kill Hux."

"Easy," Nova says, "kill." Her face does not agree with her lie. It scrunches up like she's in the process of changing her mind about her brother's best friend. "Wait…"

I hide a smile behind my hand. One of these days, she'll admit that she's in love with Huxley Saint. At least one of us should get a happily-ever-after out of my stupid idea. It won't be me.

"Ugh," I groan. "If we remember this tomorrow, I'm going to be so mad."

"It was your idea," Seraphina reminds me.

"I know." I crack my eyes open to glare at her. "Why do you think I'm going to be mad?" I'd much rather forget that I spent part of my night eagerly hoping for a damn flower to tell me that Dawson is in love with me.

Let's face it, the man hates me. With a capital H. And now I have to spend every holiday for the rest of my life sitting across from him and his insanely hot scowl.

I am not sad. I'm not.

I may be a liar, though.