Zac looks at me like I’m out of my mind, which fair, because I’m no sexpert, but I’m guessing there would be a lot of pressure to perform with some dude pounding on the door like the big bad wolf. I don’t know who the asshole outside is, but he’s clearly conspiring with the universe to deprive me of carnal pleasure, and I amnothere for it.
There’s another round of aggressively loud thumping, before the guy in the hall yells, “You’ve got to the count of three to open this door or I’m going to kick it in.”
Zac leaps off the bed like his ass is on fire and bolts across the room. “Don’t kick it in! I don’t have the money to cover damages.”
Welcome to the hot mess express—party of one.
I sigh and climb to my feet as Zac unlocks the door. The moment he turns the knob, it flies open and the cockblocker barges in, forcing Zac to take a step back as he flips the light switch.
White spots blur my vision, and I blink at the harsh glare of the overhead light.
Then I blink some more trying to make sense of the scene before me.
Either I had more shitty keg beer than I realized or my eyes are malfunctioning because no way is Cooper DeLaurentis—Waverly’s star wide receiver—glaring at us like we just stole his favorite pair of cleats.
Oh, crap. He’s a Sig Chi.
Is this his room?
Awkward.
Zac recovers first and throws up his arms. “What the hell is your problem, man?”
Cooper turns to him slowly, giving me a chance to study his profile. Not that I need it. The guy is a legend on campus. There’s not a woman at Waverly who doesn’t have his face memorized.
Hell, there’s probably not a woman on campus who doesn’t have orgasmic fantasies about him, myself included.
#NoShame.
Look, I know it’s what’s on the inside that matters, but the guy is freaking gorgeous.
He’s like a young Chris Hemsworth, with muscles for days, a chiseled jaw, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Seriously. Imagine all those drool-worthy influencer pics you’ve seen of the Pacific Ocean on Insta. Now imagine drowning in those placid blue waters andboom!you’ve got Cooper’s eyes.
So, yeah, he’s a god among mortals.
Even if, at the moment, he looks like he just rolled out of bed, his honey-blond hair tousled and his shirt half-buttoned. Which is still a step above Zac, who’s in his underwear.
“Myproblem?” Cooper repeats, eyes darting to me. He looks me over from head to toe, jaw hardening as I fix the strap of my dress, pushing it back up on my shoulder where it belongs. It’s the first time I’ve seen Cooper without his trademark smile fixed in place, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why he’s so pissed. It’s not like he’s the one being cockblocked. “Do you have any idea who she is?”
Doubt flickers across Zac’s face, then he mumbles, “Lynne?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“My name isQuinn.” I plant a hand on my hip. “With a Q.”
Zach shrugs. “Music’s loud downstairs.”
Cooper snorts, and I shoot him a look cold enough to freeze the balls off a wildcat, which, frankly, would serve him right.
He ignores the look and turns his attention back to Zac. “Yeah, well, Quinn is Noah’s little sister, so whatever you two had in mind,” he says, waggling a finger back and forth between us, “isn’t happening.”
So much for Operation Spontaneous Hookup.
“I didn’t know,” Zac sputters, throwing his hands up defensively. “Nothing happened. I swear.”
My temper flares, red-hot and molten. On the one hand, I can’t believe I was going to have sex with a guy who can’t even remember my name. On the other, who do these jerks think they are? It’s my body. I can do whatever the hell I want with it.
“I have an idea,” I say, infusing my words with an edge of syrupy sweetness. “How about you stop talking about me like I’m not here?”
