Boyfriend Bargain (Hawthorne University #1)(29)

I give his arm a squeeze, recalling how depressed he was last year when his boyfriend dumped him.

“Nice pearls,” he says to Poppy as we get settled. “New?”

“Gram sent them to me for my birthday.” She preens, her chestnut hair shining under the lights of the bar as she toys with the jewelry around her neck.

“Gram’s coming off some of that money, huh?” Taylor says, and she smirks.

I smile at them. They’re both from well-to-do families, like the majority of the students here, but it strikes me sometimes how different we really are. I’ve had to work my ass off to get every stitch of clothing on my back, and their families give them Amex cards and pearls.

I scope the place out, wondering if Z is here. It’s been a few days since our bargain, and I’ve only seen him once walking across campus. He jogged over to me and walked me to my dorm, gave me a kiss on the cheek—right in front of a group of sorority girls—and then left to go to hockey practice.

Our food comes, and Taylor is fascinated by my retelling of Frat Boy and Pixie Girl as we eat. “It’s funnier now that it’s over,” I say with a sigh.

“You shouldn’t go to those parties alone,” he tells me.

“I had Julia with me.”

He and Poppy both frown. “Nothing against your roommate, but she isn’t the best wingman,” he says. “Not when she disappears with someone at a party.”

My face goes beet red. I went off with someone at that same party.

I sigh. “I really don’t want to go to the party at Z’s by myself.”

“I have to work,” Taylor says with regret. “I need that job for an internship credit.”

“I wish I could, but my parents are coming up for a quick visit.” Poppy flicks her hair over her shoulder and considers me. “I’ve never actually met Zack. Is he as hot as everyone says?”

Yes. Hell yes.

“He’s okay.” I let out a heavy breath and push at my hair that’s up in a tight sleek ponytail.

Taylor dips his chin and gives me a look. “Honey, you and I both know he’s hotter than the devil in hell with no A/C, so don’t even play. You can go to this party. I believe in you. Plus, I will work my magic and do your makeup before I go to work.”

I munch on chips, and the more I think about Zack, the more I eat.

He leans in. “So have you heard from Bennett again?”

I grimace. “I’m avoiding all the places we used to hang out at, the coffee shop, and Remi’s Bar.”

He frowns. “I hate the bloody bastard for what he did to you.”

“Keep talking British to me.” I grin.

“Just thank my beautiful mother for marrying an American and moving us here.” He flutters his lashes, which have several coats of mascara on them.

I clink my glass with theirs. “I might not have said it before, but thank you both for being here for me when things went south with Bennett.” I recall the nights they spent with me over the holidays, crashing with me in my tiny room at Mara’s.

He rolls his eyes. “I will always be here for my LA girl.”

“That’s Lower Alabama,” we say at the same time.

Poppy’s applying a fresh coat of lipstick when Taylor nods his head toward the door of the Tipsy Moose.

I turn to see several hockey players making their way inside, but not Z.

“OMG. I don’t see them for a while and I forget how tall they are.” Taylor lets out a low whistle. “I don’t see Zack.”

“Does he kiss well?” Poppy asks.

Fuck yes.

My body tingles, and I blush again. “It’s just a pretend relationship.”

“But you have kissed him?” she asks.

Oh, honey, it was way more than that. “Yes.”

Taylor looks at me. “Something is going on with you two.”

I munch on a chip. “Nope.”

He laughs. “Why do you lie when you know I can read you like a book?”

I roll my eyes.

He grins at me. “I’m wondering, Sugar—is his plumbing big enough for the building? Because sometimes those things aren’t built to code, feel me?”

“Who’s a plumber?” Poppy asks, her bright blue eyes locked on the hockey guys. “I’m confused.”

“He means his cock,” I say with a snort. “He’s asking about Z’s, um, size.”

“Un-huh. Z, is it?” he says, looking at me from over his drink. “Have you had…rebound sex…with him?” He gasps.

“I’m not answering that.”

“You’re a little minx for being coy, but there’s only one reason you look so happy tonight, and it’s because you got nailed by your new fake boyfriend.”

I toss a fry at him just as Zack walks up to the back entrance, which I have an excellent view of. He seems to take a deep breath then pushes his way inside.

He’s magnificent, his shoulders encased in that fitted grey leather jacket, his ass snug in a pair of weathered designer jeans, his feet in a pair of black Chucks. With his body and face, the man would look good wearing a sack.

With long, purposeful strides, he makes his way to the right side of the room where the bar curls around into a small lounge area with leather couches and a dartboard. There’s a murmur that goes through the crowd as he passes, and when he walks by a group of girls, they call out his name and send him finger waves. The redhead from the party—he called her Veronica—jumps up and follows him. He sort of drags her along with him as he takes a stool and orders something from the bartender that looks like a soda. She takes a seat next to him, talking animatedly, her hands brushing at his shoulders as if she’s picking imaginary lint off his clothes. He gives her a stern look and eases away.