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“For a few weeks I lived in the dorms and then I moved on to the frat house.”
She rolled her eyes and headed into the kitchen. “Why am I not surprised?”
Donovan sat at the bar, which separated the kitchen and the living room. A set of four wineglasses hung from the rack, blocking his view. He tilted his head and winked.
“Don’t believe the hype from the movies,” he said. “It wasn’t all parties and sorority girls.”
British shook her head. “I didn’t ask.”
“We studied,” Donovan went on.
“And partied,” British added for him.
“Maybe a little, but you being all coupled up wouldn’t have understood.”
“Don’t think I didn’t party,” British said. “Christian and I weren’t always together throughout college. I played my fair share of beer pong. In private, of course.”
“Didn’t want word to get back to your boyfriend,” he chuckled.
“No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want to get caught by the pageant circuit’s morality clause.”
“What?” Donovan laughed even harder. “What kind of...?”
“I put a lot of time into becoming Miss Four Points,” British said. “I lost the Miss Southwood crown to my best friend, Kenzie. But considering she and her family have a Miss Southwood dynasty, I still did pretty good for second place.”
“Beauty queen dynasty? Moral clauses?” Donovan let out a sigh in jest.
“Don’t act like the Ravens were free of scandal,” British reminded him.
“You won’t catch me in anything,” he replied and picked up a lesson plan left on the counter. “I learned to keep my business to myself.”
“Too bad social media didn’t learn how to do the same for you.”
Donovan clutched his heart. “Ouch.”
British shrugged and teased him. “You can’t help being so fast.” She turned to the side-by-side fridge and opened it, trying to see what was in there. Anything left would be approaching at least a week old. “I have some frozen pizzas.”
“Hey, I can’t believe I’m saying this after all the food we ate yesterday and at lunch, but I could eat a horse.”
British widened her eyes. “I thought by now you’d be careful with saying things like that.”
Donovan nodded. “I stand corrected. I am hungry. We could take away or get delivery.”
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t want me cooking?”
“I enjoyed your cooking. The meal you made last week was fantastic. You just don’t have to wait on me hand and foot. You’ve been out shopping with me just the same. And the reason we came over to your place was to crash since we’re both tired and you didn’t want me to drive.”
“True,” she agreed with a nod. “But I don’t know if I can stay awake long enough for the food to get here. And you can’t tell me you’re not sleepy. You weaved in the road.”
“It was your parents’ driveway,” Donovan explained, “and there was a football in the way.”
Suddenly, British became nervous. It was one thing for a fling at a hotel where she wasn’t going to have to stay much longer. But it was a whole different ball game in her own quarters. What choice did she have? It wasn’t like she could let Donovan drive them down County Road 17 now. They were two mature adults. They’d be able to stay the night together and be responsible. They’d managed to do so last night.
Donovan waved his hand toward the living room. “Come on, let’s sit.”
“Fine, let me grab the menus from this drawer.” She fiddled with the utility drawer by her fridge and followed him into the other room. “Now we can figure out what we want to eat.”
“I know what I want to eat,” Donovan said with a coy smile.
