Her lips twitch as she rolls her eyes again. “It’s cute you think you hold any bargaining power here. I’m the bar manager on duty, and what I say goes.”
“Your name,” I say. “Just tell me your name, and I’ll leave with no trouble.”
“Why the hell does it matter?” she asks, placing the dry glasses on the shelf behind her head.
“Because I want to know.”
She smirks, leaning her elbows on the counter so we’re face to face with barely any distance between us. “And I bet you always get what you want. Am I right?”
I shrug, flashing her another one of my trademark smiles.
I get no reaction.
Not even a flinch or a blink of her eye.
“Just tell me your name.”
She straightens up. “No.” She grabs a cloth, wiping down the counter. “Go home, Kennedy. I won’t tell you again.”
“Pres, is this guy bothering you?” a gruff voice says from behind me. I glance over my shoulder, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s Bugger, and he’s even bigger in the flesh. But I’m not worried. I’ve got enough shit flowing through my veins to be completely unconcerned.
I grin, straightening up. “Pres?” I arch a brow at her in question.
“Presley. You need me to kick this asshole out?” Bugger asks, telling me exactly what I want to know.
Presley groans, pursing her lips. “I have it handled. Get back to the door.”
He shuffles off, and I stand there grinning like a loon. “Presley. I like it. Were your parents big Elvis fans or something?”
She rolls her eyes again, and if she keeps doing it, she’ll give herself eye strain. “Like I haven’t heard that a million times.” She leans into me again, and I silently fist pump the air when her gaze rakes me from head to toe.
She might feign disinterest, but I know when a broad wants me, and Presley wants every inch of this body. “Liking what you see, babe?”
She snorts. “How original. You got my name. Now, be a man of your word. Andleave.”
I grab my jacket from the back of the bar stool. “I’ll go, but this isn’t the last you’ve seen of me, Presley baby.” I blow her a kiss and walk off.
And for the first time in a long time, something, or someone, has pulled my head out from under the black hole I’ve been living in.
Presley thinks she’s immune to my charms.
I can’t wait to prove her wrong.
CHAPTER ONE
Kent - Year 1 of Law School (March)
“I’d rather boil my balls than sit through another one of those lectures,” my buddy Lance says as we exit the old-fashioned gray-brick building after our property law class.
“Just do what I do.” I shrug, gripping the strap of my book bag as we make our way through campus toward our next class. Most of the nineteen Harvard Law buildings are situated on the northwest corner of Harvard Yard, which means walking time is short.
“Not all of us can get away with sleeping through classes, when we show up that is”—he arches a brow—“and putting in minimal studying time and still graduate in the top ten percent.”
I shoulder check him. “Envy is not a good look for you.” And I’m the last person he should be envying or emulating. “And that was the old me. I haven’t missed any classes since the start of the year.” Honestly, it’s a miracle I graduated with my business degree at all. I’m lucky I have an uncanny ability to remember stuff and a decent level of intelligence. I generally only have to read something once to understand it and retain the knowledge.
“You sleep through every property law lecture,” Lance reminds me, grinning at two girls as we pass by them.
“Only because it bores me to unconsciousness. And I always download the course notes and study them so I don’t fall behind.” In some ways, it feels like I’ve sleepwalked through my entire college life so far. A lot of it is a blur. Especially the past couple of years because things got fucked up again after all that shit went down with one of my triplets. Keaton coming out messed me up. Just as I felt I was emerging from the dark haze I’d been living in.
