Foreplay (The Ivy Chronicles #1)(9)

“Forget it,” I cut her off. “It’s one thing to flirt around with a bartender and . . .” My gaze swung to the two guys listening attentively, suddenly embarrassed. Still, I pushed on. “ . . . and think about doing other stuff. I don’t need to sink to debauchery.”

Travis slapped the table, laughing again. He waved at me. “Where did you find this one? She screams ‘never been laid.’”

“Oh, and you have?” Georgia snapped.

Emerson kicked Travis’s helmet out from under him. He toppled over onto the plank floor. She nodded out into the room. “Get lost.”

Travis stood, dusting himself. “Sorry. Just kidding.” He looked at his friend. “C’mon, man.”

The two waded into the mass. For a moment, the three of us sat there, silent.

“Don’t listen to that ass hat,” Emerson finally muttered.

I shrugged like I wasn’t bothered. Seriously, what did I care what some douche thought of me? Even if his assessment did seem to echo the bartender’s opinion of me. “Nice Girl” and “never been laid” seemed to kind of go hand in hand, after all.

It honestly didn’t bother me that I was a virgin. What bothered me was that I was invisible to the opposite sex. And until I became visible, how was Hunter ever going to notice me?

I took a sip from my cup and glanced around the room, eyeing the crowd. Beautiful girls were everywhere, laughing, talking, flipping their hair with smooth, gliding movements. I’d never felt so apart from my environment as I did in that moment. Any one of these girls had a better shot with Hunter than I did. All because they weren’t afraid to go after what they wanted. All because they knew how to talk, how to act, how to be around guys. And they didn’t need a kink club to educate them. They figured it out and I could, too.

My gaze snapped back to my friends, resolve sweeping through me. “All right.”

Emerson cocked her head to the side. “All right . . . what?”

“Let’s do this,” I announced. “I’ll take whatever advice you dish out. I’ll flirt and wear whatever clothes you pick.”

Emerson perked up, sitting alert and board straight in her chair. “Are you serious?”

Georgia looked uncertain. “Are you sure, Pepper?”

I nodded and took another drink, wincing at the bitter mouthful. “Yes. Foreplay. I want to learn.” I needed to.

Emerson clapped her hands and glanced around the room. “Yesss! Okay. Let’s see. Who should we—”

“No.” I held up one finger. “If I’m doing this it’s not going to be with some wasted guy who’s probably no better at kissing than I am.” I leveled my stare on each of my friends. “Like we talked about earlier, I want someone who knows what he’s doing.” I inhaled a deep breath, one image filling my mind. “I want the bartender.”

Emerson smiled slowly, nodding in approval. “All right then. The bartender it is.”





Chapter 4

Nothing happened that night.

It’s one thing to decide to make a play for a guy, and another thing entirely to get up and do it right then. I’d already seen him reject two girls who threw themselves at him. Evidently he was more discriminating than the rumors implied. I didn’t want to be shot down. Once that happened, I’d never have a chance with him, and for some reason I’d set my sights on him. Maybe it was the fact that he helped me that night when my car died. Who wasn’t a sucker for a knight in shining armor? Or maybe it was simply that he had called me a “nice girl” and I had determined to be naughty. Maybe I wanted to make him eat those words.

We all agreed to call it a night and to return armed with a plan. Or at least a better outfit.

I actually got up in time for my morning class. Emerson’s soft snores drifted through the adjoining door, telling me she wasn’t going to make it to her morning class. The ever reliable Georgia was already up and gone.

I trekked across campus, admiring the turning leaves and enjoying the nip in the crisp New England air as I walked. Just barely into fall and already every shade of orange, red, and yellow was out in full force. Last night’s nip in the air still bit at my cheeks. It might even be colder. When I went home to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving I was going to have to return with more sweaters.

I sat through botany, taking notes inside the packet the prof had handed out at the start of the semester. After class I packed up quickly, trying to beat the crush out the door.

I trucked it to the Java Hut. Normally I grab a latte before class, but there hadn’t been enough time. By the time I entered the coffee shop, I was dying for a jolt of caffeine. I stepped into line. A pair of girls decked out in sorority regalia—matching sweatshirts and velour pants—chattered noisily about their weekend plans in front of me.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and read the text.


Emerson: Lrge Carmel Latte Xtra Hot PLS!

Apparently she was up. Grinning, I texted back.


Me: What will u do 4 me?

Emerson: Make u so hot u will have 2 beat hottie bartender off w/stick

I laughed lightly under my breath and typed back.


Me: Why does that scare me???

Emerson: b/c you’re afraid to look good and get what u want

Me: Not true