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Riley flicks her dark hair over her right shoulder and shrugs. “I’ve just had more practice. That’s all. Once you get used to it, there’s nothing to it.”
Shannon, my Big Sister, comes up to my side and says to the girls, “Mind if I borrow Jemma for a second?”
Zoe and Riley nod and smile.
“You look super freaked out, Jem.” Shannon flashes a smile so wide it reaches her blue eyes, but it doesn’t help to quell my nerves. “I had to do this when I was a freshman. It’s not as bad as you think.”
“I’m okay,” I lie. “Just a little tired.”
The last part is true. I haven’t slept much since I accepted my bid, and the closer we get to the end of the semester, I am counting the days until we become full-fledged sisters. This will all be worth it. I know it deep down in my bones.
“Okay.” Shannon squeezes my shoulder and gives me a tiny hint of a smile. “If you need me, give me a shout.”
“Thanks, Shan.”
“Of course,” she beams. “What are Big Sisters for?”
I fake her enthusiasm, and then head back over to where Zoe and Riley are awaiting their turns for the kissing booth. The three of us are paired together, along with two other girls who stick more to themselves.
A timer goes off, signifying our turn to switch places with the girls in the booth. Somewhat startled, Zoe jumps, and Riley chuckles. Zoe brushes it off as if nothing happened, and then she gets in line behind the two girls in front of us. We shuffle into the large, wooden box and step toward the counter, where hundreds of eyes stare back at us.
Now, I understand why Zoe is panicked. Because now, my heart won’t stop racing. My pulse quickens with each second I look out into the crowd, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. A sea of people surround us, some walking by, too busy talking amongst themselves to notice us, where others are waiting for us to begin.
Shannon, Abby, and Jordan coordinate the group of eager boys, taking money from them as they go down the five single file lines forming in front of us. I clear the lump at the back of my throat and hope I don’t puke on one of them. It’s not until I blink the sun from my eyes and focus on the boys’ faces that I feel a sudden wave of calm wash over me.
Tucker runs a hand through his blond hair. Today, it’s not spiky in the front and falls back into place, resting right on his forehead. He’s so perfect I can’t stand it. Even his hair is perfection. The cute dimple I’ve grown to love creases his tanned cheek. And when he approaches the booth, I just about squeal with delight.
Resting my palms on the wooden ledge, I lean forward. Tucker meets me halfway, our mouths inches apart.
“Did you come to claim your kiss?” I ask him.
He smirks. “You bet your sweet ass I did.”
Eleven
Trent
“Where did Tuck go?” Drake asks me, coming up on my right. “I’ve been looking for him for the past hour.”
I glance over my shoulder at the corner booth, where the guys from Delta Sig are selling dick shaped taffies to raise money for testicular cancer. The sign above their booth reads, ‘We go balls deep,’ which is perfect for the group of guys in the fraternity. It fits their personalities to a T.
Tucker and I are practically honorary frat brothers, though neither of us has ever thought of pledging. Not like we would have time with our hockey schedules. Plus, all the drinking they do at their chapter house would land us in a world of trouble with the athletic commission.
I point at the Delta Sig booth, and Drake follows my finger. Tucker is pounding an unmarked bottle with Romeo and Professor, two of our closest friends outside our normal circle. It’s been so long since anyone has called either of them by their real names that I can’t even remember them. Most of the guys go by a nickname, given to them because of something they did when they were new members.
Alcohol is not allowed at formal school functions, and yet the guys have somehow managed to get it past the dean by using dark green water bottles with Greek letters on them.
Tucker shouldn’t be over there with them, not after everything we have going on right now. The last thing he needs is for our punishment to become permanent.
“What’s up with him lately?” Drake asks me.
“He’s not taking the suspension well,” I mutter walking alongside him, toward Kappa’s Kisses for Cancer booth on the opposite side of the Quad. “It’s like something snapped inside him. I don’t get it. I’ve been trying to pull him out of this funk, but he seems to be getting worse.”
