Page 12 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 2

“And the problem is?” Sawyer nudged. He seemed genuinely happy with what I was telling him, even if it felt like a perfect storm inside my head.

“The problem is that I’m not into hooking up with anyone, let alone the enemy captain.” I blinked twice at Sawyer. I was pretty sure the problems were obvious.

My friend nodded deeply. Then, he looked into my eyes. “Let’s set aside the fact that you apparently can’t mess around with him because he’s a Blizzard Breaker. Why do you think he’s only trying to hook up?”

It seemed obvious to me. Why else would he want to go out with me?

“Maybe he likes you. You know? Maybe he really likes you. Or he’s attracted to you and wants to see if you feel the same. And maybe — bear with me — you could go on a date with him and not fuck him if you don’t feel like it.” Sawyer was grinning more with each sentence he said. “People are complicated, man. You’re no different. If sex for the sake of sex isn’t your thing, then just don’t have it. But don’t deny yourself the opportunity when you like someone.”

I scoffed. “Who said anything about me liking him?” I wasn’t even sure I did.

“Oh buddy, if you didn’t like him, you would never have given him your phone number.” His smile was obnoxiously victorious. And I had to give it to him. I was curious about where Grayson was going with this. I absolutely wouldn’t get my hopes up. And I wouldn’t hurry into his bed just because I thought everyone expected nothing other than sex. And I definitely wouldn’t make it easy. When had I ever done that about anything?

I thanked Sawyer for listening, flicked the lamp off, and found my phone under my pillow. I couldn’t remember leaving it there. The message on the screen made me bite my lip.

Grayson: My bowtie must have left you speechless. Prepare yourself. I have plenty more surprises for you.

A chuckle escaped me. Damn him.

“Dude,” Sawyer whispered. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” I muttered. I wanted to bite the pillow.

“Nah-ah, you laughed,” Sawyer said, his voice strung with held-back laughter.

“I didn’t,” I said flatly. “I choked.”

He was silent for a few heartbeats. Then, like an afterthought that didn’t need any debating, he mused, “You really should go on a date with him.”

I shut my phone off, undressed in the dark, and turned away from my friend. When I pulled the comforter up to my neck, I shut my eyes, and the same old image of Grayson Reed in a dotted white shirt, wearing a bowtie and maybe a pair of suspenders like a hot geek, floated before my eyes.

It was the image I went to sleep with. And he was still on my mind when I woke up the next morning.

Chapter Five

GRAYSON

I chuckled at myself and the work I had done. All in all, it was a productive morning. I stared at the stack of postcards. I am so gonna get you, I thought.

Two streets away from my dormitory, there was a shop that matched all my needs. At Cupid’s, they specialized in grand gestures, the art of seduction, and happily ever afters. From personalized chocolate box combos to elaborate flower arrangements, from suggestive and naughty toys for laughs to specially tailored plushies, they had it all. And the best part? For a fee, they provided local delivery services for secret admirers. Not that I planned on being anything but bombastically loud and obvious. I wanted Avery to have to face the courier each morning.

I grabbed the stack of cards I’d filled out, the grin on my face indestructible, and headed out. Spencer was hanging out with Cole on a bench in a sunny spot, although cold air was winning the battle of seasons, and the two of them spotted me.

“Captain Reed, Sir.” Cole saluted.

“Speak, peasant,” I said, earning a punch in the shoulder. It was absolutely warranted. “Careful,” I cried. “I need these intact.” I clutched the bundle of cards.

Spencer snickered. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not even close,” I corrected him. “I am dead serious. What do you think?”

My friends grabbed the cards and split them between each other. “There’s got to be thirty cards here,” Cole pointed out.

“Thirty exactly,” I said.

“You only have eighteen days left, Captain,” Spencer said, shuffling through the cards.

“Don’t mix them. I ordered them precisely for that reason. After the last day of the bet, they get increasingly more pathetic,” I said, shrugging.