The Valentine's Dare (The Sycamore Serial Book 1) (5 page)

Anna’s face fell at her words, and a moment of pain and devastation crossed her face that was so human Kierra almost opened her mouth to take it all back. But soon the bitchy mask was back on and she was snarling like a tomcat in an alley brawl.

“You’re one to talk, Adair,” she said, her voice low and menacing, freshly manicured nails poking in the air as she jabbed her fingers in Kierra’s direction. “At least my cheating didn’t drive my ex-boyfriend into such a jealous rage that he got arrested for aggravated assault over me. I wonder what Brooks would think of you now, huh?”

She was gone before Kierra, driven deep into herself with misery and grief, could open her mouth and respond. That was just as well, though, because all that would’ve come out was a sob of pain and guilt.

CHAPTER FOUR

Embrasse-Moi

She hid her pain that whole week, but the words Anna spoke to her rang around and around in Kierra’s head.
She doesn’t know what she’s talking about
, she tried to convince herself, but it didn’t work. Her elephant memory couldn’t forget.

It had happened almost three months ago, in the weeks leading up to final exams and winter break, when everything seemed so tense and yet hopeful. The trees were orange and red, the air chilly and brisk. Kierra loved those first whispers of winter, when the world slept and everything was painted with autumn’s brush.

Brooks had lived in Birch House at the time. Birch, unlike Sycamore, Elm, and Oak, was pretty far away from campus, so she had to drive to see him - and inevitably she wound up staying at his place, even though she had a whole room to herself in Elm. There wasn’t much else on that side of campus if you weren’t a graduate student, so there was no reason to drive there except to see him.

Until her lab partner in Film Production wanted to meet in one of the graduate labs on the other side of campus. Her
male
lab partner, Evan Dames, who was also one of the cuter graduate students on campus.

Brooks hadn’t taken it well.

“Miss Adair, can you tell us the answer?”

Kierra’s psychology professor startled her out of the bad memories, making her realize she’d drifted off during class. “I don’t know.”

He frowned at her, clearly disappointed. She resolved to pay more attention and forget about Brooks.
This is why dating is a bad idea during college.
The last thing she could afford was to lose her scholarship. The university had almost come close to taking it away when they initially suspected her of being involved in the assault; slipping grades could mean never graduating college.

Right after psychology class she had French club again, which she almost considered not going to.
The last thing I need is Mason Pryor on my mind.
Then again, if she didn’t learn to resist temptation now, she’d never manage it.
I can take him,
she told herself, gathering up her notebook and supplies and preparing to leave the classroom.
No big deal.

“Miss Adair.” Professor Glades had other plans for her though, stopping her on the way out the door. “I’ve been a little worried about your performance so far.”

“It’s only two weeks into the semester,” she protested, feeling defensive. “I just drifted off for a second. It won’t happen again.”

He frowned at her, brows furrowed over his glasses. “I understand that. But after your did not complete last semester, I’m worried that you’re on the wrong track. I’d hate to see such a bright and talented young student waste a second chance. Is that clear?”

Kierra nodded vehemently. “Crystal. It won’t happen again.”

“Good. And if you’re having any trouble with the coursework, can I suggest one of the study groups for underclassmen? One of my former students runs one out in the Sycamore House library. Mason Pryor is his name.”

Of course.
 
“I think I can study on my own,” Kierra venture, but the professor gave her a stern glance.

“Going it alone isn’t the answer to everything, young lady. Bring me back a participation note from a study group and I’ll consider raising the participation part of your grade. Just showing up to class isn’t everything, you know.”

There goes the theory that staying away from all boys will be the key to keeping my grades up.
“Thank you, professor. I appreciate the opportunity.”

“You’re welcome. Go on now.” He waved her away dismissively. “And bring back that participation note.”

Kierra tried sitting in the back of the room during French club, but that didn’t keep her from wanting to stare at Mason every time an accented sentence rolled off his lips.
Keep it together, Adair. He’s not that cute if you squint your eyes.

She could still hear him, though. So she purposefully paired off with one of the French foreign exchange girls - Belle or Betsy or something - and put her blonde head between Mason’s face and her eyes.

“What would you like to discuss?”
B-something asked, her French a high-pitched Parisian accent.

“Uhhhh…” Kierra wracked her brain for a topic.
“The weather?”

The look she got was absolutely scorching, but the girl talked with her, and soon Kierra found herself immersed in the discussion. With her brain working overtime to translate back and forth, she soon was thinking of nothing but French words.

Until Mason came over.

“Time to switch partners,” Thomas said, and everyone obediently got up and moved around the room. Of course, competition for the French girls was fierce, somehow leaving Kierra standing across from Mason Pryor - once again - with that familiar heat in her cheeks. They both looked around for chairs, but all of those were taken, leaving them sitting on the couch facing towards each other, their legs sliding on the cushions to almost meet in the middle.

“I would ask you where the library is,” Mason said in English, “but I think that one is played out.”

“If not the bibliothèque, why not the discothèque?” she said, using the French words for “library” and “disco.”

“To be honest,” Mason said, leaning in close, “I’ve run all out of French puns to make you laugh, and I’m afraid nothing else I have to say is of interest.”

“Quelle horreur!” she exclaimed in mock horror. “It’s only the second French club meeting and already you’ve disappointed me.”

“Someone take me to the guillotine, I’m ready to die now.” He sighed and clutched his chest in mock-pain.

“Hey you guys,” Thomas hissed, leaning over and glaring at Mason. “Maybe speak a little French? I don’t want this to be like last year and turn into the Frenglish club by the end of the semester.”

“I’m sorry,”
Mason said in French. “It won’t happen again.”

Thomas sighed. “Yes it will.” He glanced over at Kierra and made an odd expression that she couldn’t quite read, but that almost looked like a grimace. “Just save
it
for after club, hmm?”

At that moment the clock tower near campus rang out the chimes for 2:00pm, signaling an end to French club. Mason smirked at Thomas, who just rolled his eyes and slid away, muttering under his breath.

“He seemed overly annoyed,” Kierra said, glancing at her books but not getting up. Mason stayed put as well, showing no real desire to leave.

“Tom is just trying to live up to Frankie’s overly anal retentive example. I swear, the longer those two live together, the more they become like each other.” He leaned in close, conspiratorially. “Frankie is even getting
taller.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Kierra said, appreciating the smell of him, the feel of him so close.

“You’ll see, I’ve been measuring him when he’s not paying attention. I’m
completely
right about this.”

Kierra couldn’t help but smile at his silly, goofy tone, even as her blood pumped faster when she realized how close they were sitting on the couch.
A little bit of flirting isn’t dating,
she told herself.
It’s not bad for my studies to learn some French at the same time.

“You know, there’s something I’ve always wondered about the Valentine’s Day Dance Matchmaker,” he said, his eyes meeting hers without breaking away. “If the dance goes until midnight, and midnight isn’t Valentine’s Day anymore, why can’t the girl just date?”

Kierra shrugged. “I guess there’s no reason why it would be against the rules. The Matchmaker isn’t supposed to set herself up because it wouldn’t be fair for the other girls. But the 15
th
isn’t the 14
th
.”

“And neither is today,” he pointed out, his hand reaching over to draw circles on her knee. “In fact, it’s nowhere near Valentine’s Day at all.”

She knew what was coming, where his eyes were looking, what that hand meant. The room was empty and no one would know. At any moment she could lean back, turn away, shake her head - say no. But she didn’t.

Instead Kierra closed her eyes, leaned forward the barest of millimeters, and let Mason kiss her.

His lips were soft and warm, his hand on her knee sending thrills up her spine, his other hand reaching over to rest on her neck. She opened up to him, kissed him back. Their lips made the best kind of French language, flirting turning into
desire.

It took every bit of will in her body to pull back and let the kiss be just that: a kiss. But dear
God
did she want to make out on the couch like a lovesick teenager.

And based on the way his eyes were when he opened them up and looked at her, pupils blown large, green-and-gold hazel rings thin at the edges, he wanted the exact same thing she did.

“Embrasse-moi,” he said, a soft smile on his face.

“Already did,” she answered, throat dry, lips hungry for more. “I, uh, I should go.”
 

She turned her body away from him to break the temptation, picking up her book bag off the floor and swinging it over her shoulder as she stood up. For a moment she considered leaving the room as fast as possible without looking back - but then she stopped herself, looking down at Mason sitting there, his eyes still warm and kind, his hands letting go of her without a bit of possessiveness in them.

“That was nice,” she admitted, the words coming out small and scared.
Don’t say “thank you,” for God’s sake.

“Tom and Frankie and I are having a pizza party tonight,” he said, surprising her with the sudden change in subject. “It’s this small, laid back thing we like to do every once and a while to celebrate the fact that our dorm doesn’t suck. You should come. Bring those friends of yours.”

“Sure,” she said, unable to think of a good reason to say no. “What time?”

“8:00, fourth floor, room 4B.” Mason grabbed his own book and stood up, his posture only slightly awkward, slightly shy. “I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah. Yes. See you then.”

“Good.” And he kissed her on the cheek, lips warm and gentle, before he reached over and opened the door for her to leave. For a moment she felt déjà-vu, staring at the open doorway, until she remembered this wasn’t Brooks. This wasn’t a trap. She got to leave.

So she did.

Kierra decided to take the long way back to her rooms, needing the time to think - and to unwind from that kiss, which had left her whole center feeling soft and giddy like a little girl.

She wanted to stop everyone she passed and yell: “he kissed me!” She was certain it showed on her face that she was giddy and flirty, gooey and warm.

There was more than just her feelings to think about, though. After everything that had happened to her in the past year, she didn’t have the room left in her heart for more pain cause by a boy. She knew Mason Pryor’s reputation.

But she also knew what it felt like to be kissed by him. Surely that look in his eyes couldn’t be a lie; neither could that smile. Maybe Leila and Lacy were right when they told her the best way to move on was to find someone new and let him in.
It’s not like he asked me to be his girlfriend. A pizza party and maybe a date is no big deal.
And he makes me laugh. I haven’t laughed like that since…

Turning the corner, she passed by the Dean’s office and froze.

He was there.

His back was to her, but even from this angle and several feet away she could tell that it was him. Even the shirt and jacket were unmistakable; she’d wrapped her arms around them a thousand times. Standing next to him was his father and a man in a suit who was no doubt a high-powered lawyer.