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By the time we pay, Killian has vanished, and I feel my body untighten. The tension between us was electric, so much so I could feel the air pulsing between us. Whenever I’m close to Killian, my entire body comes to life as if his gaze alone can spark something inside me.
Once we reach our table, I set my tray next to Shannon’s, taking a seat with a flustered sigh. Killian is still in my head, somehow managing to irritate me.
Jordan and Abby are across from me picking at their salads. They shove a few forkfuls into their mouths before Jordan breaks the silence between us.
“Are you coming to the party on Saturday?” Abby asks.
When Abby asks if we are going somewhere, it’s not optional. While I’m in charge of planning our social calendars for the entire sorority, I still have to answer to Abby. She’s a dictator stuck inside the body of a beauty queen. Not that I mind going to the annual Halloween party. Delta Sigma Phi throws legendary parties everyone on campus wants to attend.
I’ve attended dozens of parties in Manhattan, most of which were planned by my mother, but nothing compares to some of the weekends I have spent with my sisters on campus.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I say.
“Me, too,” Shannon adds.
“We’re doing Thirsty Thursday this week,” Jordan says. “How about a cosmo party this time?”
I hate cosmopolitans. The drinks burn my stomach and give me massive heartburn. My mother loves them. I practically grew up with the stench of them burned into my nostrils.
“Sounds like fun,” I lie. “Count me in.”
“I never turn down a cosmo,” Shannon says. “I could use one right now.” She laughs. “I think we all can.”
I know Shannon well enough to see through the façade she puts on for Abby and most of the girls in our sorority. She works almost every day of the week. Another party, especially one mid-week, will only throw off her schedule even more. I bet she’s wondering how she can rearrange her life to make it on Thursday.
Abby creates an awkward tension every year during the pledging process. She’s super stuck-up, a product of her spoiled upbringing, and never seems to come down to earth where the normal people live. There’s an air around her that makes it impossible to get to know her. It’s also what keeps people away. She has a permanent scowl most of the time and rarely looks happy.
Jordan, her sidekick, is cool and relaxed when she’s not around Abby. But they’re best friends and have been since their freshman year.
“I love your top,” Jordan says to me, pointing at my shirt. “Where did you get it?”
I glance down at the black tunic with gold stitching up the arms. “Saks, I think. My mom bought it for me at the beginning of the semester.”
“I love Saks,” Abby beams with approval.
Shannon can’t afford socks from Saks Fifth Avenue, so she keeps her mouth shut. Whenever money comes up in conversation, Shannon gets eerily silent. I don’t blame her. Abby judges everyone by how they look and what they can afford. She makes it known that she tolerates Shannon’s presence among our group and never lets her forget the fact she can’t afford to live in the chapter house with us. Abby is the worst kind of rich bitch. She’s a monster.
Shannon nudges me on the arm, knocking the fork from my hand. “Look who’s coming over here.”
I peel my eyes from hers and catch Killian strutting over to our table with Jamie O’Connor at his side. All of the girls glance in their direction, practically drooling over them.
Jamie slides a chair next to Shannon and kisses her on the cheek. He’s adorable—shaggy brown hair, muscles everywhere, and the cutest smirk. Both Jamie and Killian are not the typical stupid jocks. They’re both genius smart, good enough to play pro hockey, and ridiculously hot.
Jamie straddles the chair with his long legs pushing it closer to the table. But Killian just stands at the edge, burning a hole through me with his gaze. His emerald irises are intense, his jaw rigid, and everything about his demeanor sets my body on fire. He has me on edge as he does every time he’s near.
Killian holds up his hand, beckoning me with his index finger. At first, I wonder if he’s motioning to someone else, but I know his gesture is meant for me. He hasn’t peeled his eyes from mine since the second he approached our table.
Who does he think he is?
“Now,” he growls. “I don’t have all day.”
I almost laugh at his rudeness. He’s such a dick.
So, why am I so unbelievably attracted to him and how does he get me to ignore every sensible thing running through my head?
Without a fight, I walk over to him. He devours me with one look. The sexual tension between us burns like a lit match, like an uncontainable spark neither of us can control.
