Page 18 of Hate to Love You

“You can’t sleep with anyone during the time we’re together,” I blurt, wondering if it’ll be a deal breaker. Brody isn’t exactly known around campus for his monkish ways. Hockey comes first. Girls a close second. Academics a distant third. “I’m not going to play the part of dumb, cheated-on girlfriend twice,” I bite out.

Holy crap! Did those words just pop out of my mouth?

“Done. I won’t even look at another girl,” he promises.

“It’s not the looking part that concerns me.”

“You have my word that I won’t touch another woman for the duration of our coupledom. You can trust me, Davies.”

Trust Brody McKinnon…

Ha!

The very notion seems ludicrous.

Contemplating my options, I suck my lower lip into my mouth and chew on it. This can go one of two ways. The first is that we go downstairs and pretend the last thirty minutes never happened.

Fight?

What fight?

I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Then I pray really hard that the people who witnessed the fight didn’t overhear Brody tell Reed that we’re together. Or hear Reed say that I’m lousy in bed.

My heart plummets.

The other choice is to pretend that Brody and I are going out for a couple of weeks. Maybe a month. Certainly not longer than that. It won’t take long for someone else to become Whitmore fodder. It could be next weekend when someone else’s life falls apart at the seams and then we can quietly part ways.

Would that really be so bad?

“What’s it going to be, Davies? You in or out?”

“I…” There’s nothing easy about this decision. Tying myself to Brody in any way feels dangerous. But what other choice do I have? None. Squaring my shoulders, I say, “I’m in.”

A slow smile spreads across his face that makes both dimples pop. Even though I don’t want it to, my heart skips a beat.

He arcs his hand in front of him and pretends to look out into the distance. “Can you picture it now? McKinnon and Davies, Whitmore’s new golden couple.” He wiggles his brows at me. “This is definitely going to be interesting.”

“Oh hell,” I mutter, burying my face in my hands. “What have I gotten myself into?”

He chuckles. “I’m just joking around. Everything will be fine.”

“Nothing will ever be fine again,” I moan.

At this point, I just want to slink home, crawl under my covers, and pretend this night never happened. If I’m lucky, when I wake tomorrow morning, this will have all been a horrendous nightmare.

“I think I’ve had enough for one night.” I may have promised Zara I would stick around for a couple of hours, but that’s not happening anymore. “I’m going home.”

He nods. “Okay. Just follow my lead.”

Before I can question what he has in mind, he grabs my hand and drags me out of the room, through the hall, and down the steps. Brody stops on the landing of the staircase and sticks two fingers between his lips. The whistle comes out sounding like a high-pitched screech. I’m not sure what I was expecting—maybe that we would sneak unnoticed out the door—but it definitely wasn’t this.

If we didn’t already have everyone’s attention, we definitely do now.

The music is abruptly cut off, and silence descends. A crampy feeling settles in my belly as I reluctantly survey the crowd.

I try to tug my hand free, but he has a death grip on me. He raises his other hand in the air. More people pour in from the kitchen to find out what’s going on.

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