Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“You have to admit that he’s pretty hot,” Olivia adds slyly.
Oh, for goodness’ sake.
“He’s okay,” I lie. “If you’re into his brand of handsome. Which I’m not,” I mumble under my breath.
“Sure, because who doesn’t like tall, dark, and handsome?” A dreamy look fills her eyes. “Not to mention all those muscles.”
I squash any jealousy that is trying to fight its way to the surface.
Thankfully, Olivia shakes herself free from those thoughts before I have to do something drastic, like slap her silly. “Sorry, where was I?”
I give her the stink eye. “You were talking about Carter’s muscles and drooling like most of the girls on campus.” With a scowl, I plant my hands on my hips. “I’m really disappointed in you, Olivia. I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that.”
“What can I say?” She shrugs. “I’m a sucker for hot men.”
Whether I want to admit it or not, the guy is smoking hot, and I’m not the only one who thinks so.
“Well, be forewarned that his bedroom has a revolving door on it. And that, my friend, is not idle gossip. I’ve witnessed it with my own eyes.”
She bursts out laughing. “I would never hookup with Carter, and you know it!”
Actually, I do. She’s more into…
I’m not even going to mention Noah. That girl needs to get over him and move on with her life.
The timer dings on the oven, saving me from delving any further into this discussion. I jump off my stool and head back to the stove.
“Brownies are ready!” Grabbing pot holders, I open the oven door and pull out the pan. The aroma of fudgy goodness permeates the air as I set it on the stove to cool.
“Mmmm.” I lean closer and inhale deeply. “They look and smell delicious.”
“They look and smell like death. Your death,” Olivia emphasizes.
It’s in Olivia’s nature to be overly cautious. Me, not so much.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave a hand in her direction. “Come on, we better head over to the library and get some studying in before it gets too late.”
Olivia hops off her chair and grabs her backpack. As she slings it over one shoulder, she asks, “Is there anything I can say to talk you out of this?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
We’ve been friends long enough for her to recognize a losing battle when she sees one. Instead of arguing, she releases a long-suffering sigh and trudges toward the door of the apartment. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“You worry too much. It’s laxative-infused brownies. No big deal.” I grab my messenger bag from the front hall. “Anyway, what could possibly go wrong?”
“Famous last words,” she grumbles as I slam the door behind us.
Olivia needs to lighten up.
It’s just a harmless prank. It’ll end up being hilarious.
Well, I’ll certainly laugh.
Carter, not so much.
9
DAISY
It’s after six o’clock at night by the time I get back to the apartment. Olivia and I were hunkered down at the library longer than expected. And then, on the way home, we stopped and grabbed sandwiches from a deli on campus. Now that my belly’s full, I can put in a few more hours of studying for my test tomorrow.
I’m not one of those people who can waltz into an exam without glancing at the material and magically pull an A out of my ass. It doesn’t work that way for me. If I want to see results, I have to put in the effort.
Carter, on the other hand, has a photographic memory. It’s just one of the many things about that guy that drives me bonkers. I’ve rarely seen him study. And he has a near-perfect grade point average. I know this because he makes the dean’s list every semester.
As soon as I open the door to our apartment, the smell of brownies hits me. I can’t believe I forgot about them. For the first time since whipping up the dessert this afternoon, I have second thoughts about feeding them to Carter.
Damn Olivia for filling my head with doubts.
Unsure of what to do, I hesitate in the entryway before setting my bag down. Maybe I should dump the pan in the garbage and rethink my strategy. If I still want to go through with it, I can always whip up another batch.
Maybe I am taking my need for revenge too far.
Ugh.
I should have just listened to Olivia in the first place. God, I hate when she’s right. Decision made, I veer into the kitchen and toward the stove where I left the pan to cool. Wanting to make the brownies extra tempting, I bought a tub of chocolate frosting and left it sitting on the counter.
My footsteps slow as I realize the frosting has been opened. The foil wrapper from the top lies crumpled on the countertop. I glance from the frosting to the dessert, and my heart plummets. A third of the brownies has already been hacked from the pan. Crumbs cling to the stainless-steel knife that rests against the dark metal.