Chapter Three

Chessly

S ettling myself into the oversize recliner that took up most of Jamaica's dorm room, I left her no doubt that I planned to stay until she'd given me all the details leading up to the lip-lock she'd shared with the Wildcats' star tight end in front of Hanover.

"I honestly can't figure out what it is about Callahan O'Reilly that makes me forget all my personal rules and common sense." Jamaica sighed and dragged her sweater over her head, tossing it over the back of her desk chair. A second later her leggings joined it.

With her back to me, she perused the contents of her closet.

"Stop stalling. Put on your favorite hoodie and your rattiest pair of leggings and tell me everything."

We'd known each other since freshman year when we lived on the same floor. I was roommates with Piper Maxwell, and Jamaica had roomed with Saylor Davis. Why the university decided to put two scholarship girls with two rich girls still mystified me, but as it turned out, the four of us had become best friends. Sophomore year, Piper and Saylor both moved off-campus while Jamaica and I joined forces to become two of the youngest resident assistants in the dorms.

Since my dad ran a hardware store and could help me with some of my expenses, I didn't need an extra job to supplement my scholarship, and room and board were offered by my RA position. Jamaica didn't have my same luxury. She'd be heading off soon for her Sunday shift at the Sweet Shop in the Union, which meant she needed to start talking. Now.

"Jamaica," I drawled.

She threw herself onto the bed and stared at me with consternation warping her features. "I truly did not expect to get tangled up with Callahan. But he's so dang charming." Sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she added, "And freaking smart. I'm a sucker for smart guys."

"Doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes."

Her cheeks echoed the bright pink hue of the flowers in her headband.

"So?" I circled my hand for her to continue.

"Nothing happened, Chess. I swear."

"Which totally explains you making the walk of shame into the dorm a few minutes ago," I said, laughing.

"I was over all the noise and ridiculousness of the party, but we couldn't find Axel to give me a ride, so Callahan had me wait in his room while he went looking for them. The next thing I knew, I was waking up this morning in Callahan's bed."

"Fully dressed, of course." The sarcasm lacing my voice added another layer of color to my friend's cheeks.

"We were in our underwear. Nothing happened." She squeezed the mattress on either side of her thighs. "He said he doesn't put out before the third date."

I cracked up. "And you weren't happy about it."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Chessly Clarke." Her expression turned sly. "A certain other football player was asking about you."

Rolling my eyes, I said, "I can't imagine why."

She leaned forward, rocking a bit on the edge of her bed. "Funny how you didn't ask which one."

"Look, Finn McCabe is one stupidly good-looking guy. But he hangs out with Tory Miller ." Her name dripped from my lips like acid. Crossing my arms over my chest, I dropped my chin. "And he doesn't see a problem with it."

"She-who-thinks-her-shit-don't-stink and her little posse of freshman wannabes like to hang out with him at the library. But he blew her off at the party last night." Jamaica gave me the big eyes. "Wait. Did something happen with Tory after the bonfire?"

"At first, Finn comes across as kind of shy," I began.

Jamaica stifled a giggle. "Or supremely awkward."

"Shy," I corrected. "But when he warms up a bit, he's super-cute. We were having a fun conversation. He even managed to drop a line on me when we were parked in the driveway in front of the lobby. And then out of nowhere, Tory started banging on the windows of his truck." Wrinkling my nose, I said, "Across the bonfire I caught a glimpse of her flirting with some guy in a frat jacket—couldn't tell which frat—right before we all left. She must have hopped on her broom to make it back to the dorms ahead of us."

"Did he ditch you for Tory?" She flexed her fists. "I don't care if he's Callahan's best friend—if he ditched you for Tory, I'm going to take him out."

The image of my best friend, all five foot six and 125 pounds, soaking-wet, taking on the mountain of a man known as Finn McCabe cracked me up. I could picture him with one massive palm pressed to her forehead, holding her at arm's length as she swung her small fists at him and connected with nothing but air.

"Thanks, babe. I love you for looking out for me. But I don't have a clue what happened after I let myself out of his truck." I stuck my nose in the air. "He couldn't ditch me for anyone because I didn't give him the chance."

"He's Callahan's friend, but I don't know either of them that well."

"Ri-ight." I dragged the word out a couple seconds.

Gifting me with one of her around-the-world eye rolls, she continued. "But from what I've seen, 'Han despairs of his friend's taste in women."

I shot her a glare.

"Present company excluded."

"Thanks." My tone was as dry as dust. Picking at my sweater, I said, "So much for the four of us ever double-dating. After last night, I don't care if I never see Finn McCabe again."

Jamaica smirked. "Better work on making that sound like you mean it."

Crossing my eyes, I stuck my tongue out at her, and she cracked up. With effort, I dragged myself out of her comfy chair and walked to the door. "I have a paper to finish for Modern Physics, that'll take me right up to our RA meeting. See you later."

I headed upstairs to my room, but I couldn't concentrate on physics with images of Finn McCabe swirling in my head. Replaying that slow, sexy once-over he gave me in his truck before Tory so rudely interrupted us left me hot and itchy. I stared at the closed drawer of my nightstand and willed myself not to go for my battery-operated boyfriend while pictures of Finn played in my head.

"Don't go there. Do not even think about going there," I growled to myself. With a huff at the reflection staring back at me from the mirror on my closet door, I grabbed my yoga mat and headed down to the workout room beside the Passion Pit in the basement of the dorm. One way or another, I'd put myself in a better headspace to focus on what truly mattered, which definitely meant school and not a certain hot defensive end.

Mountain State's sprawling campus took up most of the south side of town at the base of the mountains. With its reputation for landing NASA grants and churning out engineers in every discipline like a well-oiled machine, the college was one of the largest in the Northwest. That made it easy not to run into other students if you truly didn't want to. The other thing that made it easy to avoid particular students who happened to play on the championship-caliber Wildcats football team was the college's insistence on listing their schedules on the team's website.

For the two weeks following Homecoming, I'd managed to avoid any chance of accidentally seeing Finn McCabe anywhere. Knowing he hung out with my nemesis stung because I'd truly wanted to see where that spark of awareness between us might have led.

Jamaica, the pest, never missed an opportunity to tell me Finn asked about me on the regular, like every time she met up with Callahan at the library or went over to his place to "study." As if I needed that info. Cue the massive eye roll here. I guess since she had a thing for a football player, she thought each of her friends should have one too.

It didn't help that our other best friend, Piper Maxwell, had hooked up with Finn's roommate Wyatt Baxter—who everyone knew as "Bax"—recently in what she insisted was only a one-night stand. It seemed she'd impressed him or something because he'd dedicated a pick-six to her during the Wildcats' big win against the Tigers last weekend. Watching Piper try to turtle down inside her massive yeti-looking faux fur coat when he pointed the ball at her in the stands was highly entertaining. Finn catching my eye after that play? Not so much. At least with the focus on Piper, she and our other friend Saylor missed that little exchange.

What no one missed was the scene Tory Miller caused in Stromboli's the Thursday night following that game. If she hadn't stopped at our table to throw snark at me, I probably would have ignored her. But when it came to looking for ways to make my life hard, Tory couldn't seem to pass up an opportunity. Even with her dad's bottomless pockets, she wasn't able to force me from the university after I busted her for breaking dorm rules when she was on my floor last year. The terms of the settlement with the college stated she couldn't accost me in the dorm or on campus. A more prudent person might have taken those terms farther afield. Say, anywhere she might run into me.

Tory was petulant, privileged, and petty—pretty much the opposite of prudent.

As she stopped beside the booth I was sharing with Piper and Saylor, she'd planted one perfectly manicured hand on her hip. "Did you honestly think you were good enough to hang out with a Wildcats player? You and your truck-stop-trash friend Jamaica Winslow have so much to learn."

"You know, Tory"—Piper's casual tone harbored a dangerous edge—"you're bad for every rich girl's reputation. You running around pretending you deserve the princess treatment makes every girl whose dad is well off look bad." She mimicked the way Tory wound a lock of hair around her finger. "Name-calling is so middle school. If you're trying to pass yourself off as an adult, you should try acting like one."

"Speaking of passing yourself off as an adult, how did you get past the bouncer?" I asked. "Oh, wait. Steve's not at the door tonight. It's someone new."

An ugly sneer twisted Tory's mouth. "You were born a bitch, weren't you, Chessly?"

I sipped my beer and set the glass back on the table. "Takes one to know one."

Our server arrived with our pizza but couldn't penetrate the knot of Tory's entourage creating her backdrop in front of our booth. "Excuse me. Excuse me. Hot pie coming through."

His words seemed to bounce off the wall of Tory's girl group and into the ceiling of the bar. From the corner of the booth beside Piper, Saylor threw me a "what are you going to do?" look before addressing Tory and her friends. "I prefer my Stromboli's hot."

When the knot of girls still didn't move, I caught the server's eye over Tory's shoulder. "I think the only way we're going to have our pizza is if you grab the bouncer."

His eyes rounded, then he headed in the direction of the front door, taking our pie with him. Not catching on, Tory snorted.

"Our IDs passed the test."

A minute later a big man who looked like he might be a member of the Wildcats basketball team loomed over the crowd in front of our table. "Is there a problem here?"

"We'd like to enjoy our dinner in peace, but this bunch of freshmen don't seem to want to move on—like to a place where they're legal," I said, my voice even.

"We are not freshmen." Tory threw daggers at me with her eyes, and I had the impression she was about an inch from stomping her foot. Turning to the bouncer, she flipped a switch and piled on the charm. "You checked us when we walked in, remember?"

"It's kind of dark by the door, and I'm new." The megawatt smile on the guy's beautiful brown face didn't quite reach his eyes. "May I see your ID again, please?"

The furtive expressions Tory's little tribe passed from girl to girl should have alerted him that he'd been had, and maybe they did. But since she was the leader and still impeding the server from delivering our pie, the bouncer started with her. When her girls gave her space to hand over her driver's license, the server took advantage by slipping inside their half-circle and sliding our pizza into the middle of our table. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Another lemon drop for me, please," Piper said with a grin in my direction.

"You got it." The server smiled at Piper.

With a glance at our half-full pitcher of beer, Saylor added, "We're okay on beer for now."

The server disappeared at about the same time as the bouncer slid a penknife into the edge of Tory's ID. She screeched in outrage as he discovered her subterfuge, her anger aimed directly at me.

"You are such a freaking bitch !"

"I'm not the one with a fake ID and a nasty attitude." With a shooing gesture, I said, "Run along now and leave the bars to the grown-ups."

Tory made as if to lunge at me, but the bouncer stuck his massive arm out, shutting her progress down with ease. "Miss, you and your friends need to leave, please. I don't want to have to call campus police."

At the mention of police, Tory's entourage melted away toward the door. When she caught on that her wall was no longer surrounding her, she threw back her shoulders and glared at me. "You'll pay for humiliating me, Chessly Clarke."

I reached for a slice of pie and slid it onto my plate. "No, I won't."

She gasped.

"I won't pay for what you've done to yourself." Blinking up at her, I added, "I hope I don't see you around again anytime soon."

Piper started a slow clap that Saylor obligingly took up too.

When Tory tried again to step in my direction, the bouncer cut her off. A cross between a growl and a shriek escaped her throat before she finally stomped her foot and swung for the door. Pushing through her little group waiting near the front of the bar, she swanned out into the cool evening. A server with a to-go box followed her, shouting about her owing money for their pizza. She turned and stared at one of the girls following her. With a sigh, the girl I recognized as Penelope something-or-other from our dorm stopped and paid for the pizza before following her leader out of the bar.

My friends and I exchanged a look before I said to the bouncer, "In case you hadn't noticed, that one's trouble."

"I'll be keeping an eye out for her. Thanks for the heads-up. I can't afford a seven-hundred-dollar fine for letting the under-twenty-ones in." He touched a finger to his ball cap and headed back to his stool right inside the front door.

Only after the commotion ended did I notice our audience when Piper's attention zeroed in on the back of the bar. When I turned to see what—or who—she was watching, I caught sight of Finn McCabe. For a second, I could have sworn I saw longing in his features as he stared back at me. Then Wyatt Baxter stood up from their booth and headed back in the direction of the restrooms.

A few minutes later, Piper excused herself to use the ladies' room. While she was gone, Finn wandered up to the bar across from our booth. Though I willed myself to keep my eyes on my food, and on Saylor seated across from me, I kept sliding glances his way out of the corner of my eye. From what I'd seen on Homecoming, Finn and Tory had something going on. Now that I thought about it, she was making a scene at the back of the bar before she started in on me. So why was Finn staring at me via the mirror behind the bartender and making no effort at all to hide it? And why did he look so unhappy?

Wait .

Was he pissed at me for outing Tory to the bouncer and getting her kicked out of the bar? I slugged back the half a glass of beer in front of me and refilled it to the brim.

"Was it something I said?" Saylor remarked with a smirk. Her side-eye in Finn's direction said she'd busted me. Mercifully, she left it at a look.

"Have you noticed how much bullshit the beautiful people get away with?" I asked around a bite of cheesy chicken and artichoke deliciousness.

"Calling Tory Miller beautiful is a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?" She sipped daintily from her glass and wiped her napkin over her mouth.

"You know what I mean."

"Is that why you went after her so hard when she lived on your floor last year?" Saylor pushed her plate with its uneaten crusts toward the middle of the table.

"Nope. I didn't ‘go after' her at all," I said with air quotes. "From the moment I met her, I picked up on her entitlement and decided not to engage. But in case that little scene just now didn't alert you"—I nodded toward the empty space where Tory and her girls had stood—"the girl enjoys attention. All the attention." I sipped the foam off the top of my now overfilled glass of beer before picking it up for a proper drink. "She pushed and pushed until she left me no choice but to do what I had to do."

Finn's gorgeous baritone voice interrupted our conversation. "Hi, Chessly. Um, everything okay?"

Why does the guy have to have such a pretty voice? I glanced up at him. And those shoulders? And those eyes? It wasn't fair, especially when he wanted to waste all that delicious manliness on a human wrecking ball like Tory Miller.

"We're great, Finn. But I guess I might have ruined your evening, huh?" I shrugged. "Sorry about that." My tone conveyed the lie in my words.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, drawing my attention to his perfectly proportioned body, all shoulders and chest tapering down to his hips—and his package. It was difficult to dismiss that with it right there, a touch below eye level. I coughed over the sigh that escaped me and snapped my eyes back to his face.

"Tory and her girls like to hang out with the team. I don't think they're as bad as Callahan says they are."

My brow shot up. Across the table Saylor let out a derisive snort.

"But I could be wrong about that." His face expressed a combination of consternation and worry.

"On Homecoming we established you definitely could be wrong about that," I said.

He let go of an uncomfortable chuckle. "Well, you probably saved another bouncer's job tonight. I doubt Stromboli's will let Tory back in before she's a senior."

"So I did ruin your evening." My lovely dark beer turned sour in my mouth.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Not even a little bit. Seeing you here made it all kinds more interesting."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Saylor's smirk, and I shot her a glare. She burst out laughing.

"This"—she waved her hand between Finn and me—"is certainly interesting." Shoving her outstretched hand at Finn, she said, "I'm Saylor Davis, one of Chess's bestest friends."

Under the table my toe connected with her shin. The wretched woman didn't even flinch. If anything the gleam in her eyes ratcheted up from naughty to wicked. I absolutely did not appreciate her glee at what she thought was going on between Finn and me.

With a smile, Finn shook her hand. "Finn McCabe."

"Oh, I know who you are. Starting defensive end for the Wildcats. Up close, you're pretty cute, nothing at all like the animal you are on the field."

A dull red spread over his high cheekbones even as he smiled that smile that revealed his one endearingly crooked incisor. "Thanks. I think."

Nothing was going on between Saylor and the too-hot-for-his-own-good football player standing beside our table. Nothing.

So why did the green-eyed monster punch my stomach when he smiled at my friend?