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“For pushing you to work harder,” he said. “You were so far ahead of everybody else in our class that you probably would have started slacking by the time senior year rolled around. Who knows if you would have even gotten into medical school if I hadn’t been there to provide you competition? Face it, Dr. Kelley, if it wasn’t for me, you may not be a doctor at all.”
She threw her head back and released a full-throated laugh. She probably hadn’t intended for it to be sexy, but damn if it wasn’t.
“You are so full of shit, Drew. Then again, that doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been full of shit.” She pointed at him. “But you are right. You did push me to work harder. Getting the better of you in every single class was my sole mission in life fifteen years ago.”
“Told you,” Drew said. “You owe me.”
She picked up a toothpick, stabbed a cube of marbled cheese from the fruit display, and held it up to him. “Here’s some cheese to go with all that whine. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”
Now it was his turn to laugh.
Drew had decided to attend tonight’s reunion only because it was being held in the same hotel where he was staying these first few nights in Austin. If the executive apartment he’d rented had been move-in ready, he doubted he would be in this ballroom right now.
If he’d known he would spend half the night going back and forth with London, he would have sent in his registration for the reunion when he’d first received—and promptly deleted—the email. Even after fifteen years, it was more than obvious that she had no idea that he’d crushed on her from the minute he arrived at Barbara Jordan High halfway through their junior year.
How could she know? She’d been too busy scheming his demise for swooping in and encroaching on her territory as smartest person in the class.
“So, tell me, London, what’s been going on with you these days?” Drew asked. “Outside of working at the hospital.”
He knew all about her job. Before his mom passed away last year, she would occasionally text him about that smart, pretty girl with the nice teeth he went to high school with, and how she was now a doctor who was sometimes interviewed on the local news.
“That’s pretty much all there is to me,” London said. “My job doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”
“You mean besides planning class reunions and going viral online?”
“Yeah, besides those things,” she said. “Oh, and I crochet now. It’s a new thing I’m trying. You know, broadening my horizons and all that good stuff.”
“Crochet, huh? Do you play bridge and take in stray cats too?”
“Hey, fiber art is the new hip thing, Drew Sullivan.”
“I would believe that if you’d used any word other thanhip.”
“Shut up.” She laughed.
“Why do you have to make goading you so much fun?”
“Because—”
A high-pitched squeal came from the area of the DJ’s table. Tabitha Rawlings had taken control of the microphone.
“Okay, fellow Trojans, it’s time for the class roll call!” Tabitha said.
“What the hell?” London’s brow dipped in disapproval. “There isn’t supposed to be any class roll call. The reunion committee never discussed this.”
“Maybe they discussed it when you weren’t there?”
She gave him the death glare.
Drew held up his hands. “Or, maybe not.”
Tabitha started with the Class Clown, Reginald Brown, who also won Best Personality, Most School Spirit, and Best Dressed. She went through the list, calling out several more “Most Likely To” categories, and then moved on to couples.
“Is she just pulling these out of her ass?” London asked. “They didn’t even take votes.”
“Yes, they did,” Drew said. “I was given a form to fill out when I arrived.”
“You were?” She jerked her head around. “No one told me about any form.”
