Never Have You Ever (The Love Game Book 1)

by Elizabeth Hayley

  I hadn’t expected her to assist in this move, so she ended up flying toward me. As she collided with my chest, I wrapped my arms around her to steady us both.

  Her hands had come up to keep her from face-planting into my sternum, and I instinctually gripped her lower back. I looked down at her and she looked up, and our gazes held for a long moment.

  “If you wanted a hug, all you had to do was ask,” she said, finally breaking the silence. Her voice was so low and husky, it shifted the air in the room to something more tense and heavy.

  “I’ll remember that for next time,” I replied, my voice almost a whisper.

  We continued looking at one another, and it was as if we were caught in a bubble we were both terrified of popping.

  “You saying there’ll be a next time?”

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  She nodded. “Like having a guy pretending to be your gay brother quickly becoming one of your best friends?”

  I inhaled sharply at her words. Granted, we’d gotten along well, but hearing her voice and how she felt about me filled me with affection for this drunk idiot in my arms.

  “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

  She hummed in response, and the sound seemed to rumble down her body and radiate into my chest. Pinpricks of awareness popped out on my arms where I held on to her.

  I should’ve let go minutes ago, but the thought of doing so held no appeal. And when I noticed her begin to move her face up to meet mine, I started to lean down to meet her halfway.

  But just before our lips connected, I pulled back. She was drunk and vulnerable, and damn did I want to kiss her anyway. But I couldn’t. Not like this. Honestly, not like anything.

  Hooking up with Sophia would top the list of Worst Plans Drew Ever Had. And that list wasn’t exactly a short one.

  Her eyes were closed, and she swayed forward a bit more, clearly expecting my lips to be there. She startled a bit when she was met with only air. She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at me questioningly.

  I stood there without saying anything, without moving closer.

  Pulling out of my grasp, she stumbled a bit but quickly regained her balance.

  “Guess I should go to bed.”

  “Are you…I mean, do you…can I do anything?”

  She smiled at me, but it seemed a little forced. “I got it.” She walked toward her room and turned just enough to look at me. “Thanks. For everything.”

  “Anytime,” I replied.

  As I watched her walk into her room and close the door, I hoped she knew I meant it.

  S O P H I A

  I woke up the next morning in rough shape. My head pounded, my stomach felt unsettled, and I wanted to sleep for at least ten more hours. When I rolled to my back, I threw my arm over my eyes to block out the sunlight streaming in through my windows while I thought back to last night.

  I wished I’d have been drunk enough to forget what had happened. The way Drew had practically had to carry me into the apartment, plead with me to go to bed, and the way…oh God. I’d almost kissed Drew.

  “Fuck my life.”

  Realistically, I knew no one could blame me. Drew was extremely kissable, and I’d already confessed my attraction to him. But Jesus Christ, could I not keep it in my pants when so much was riding on me not, well…riding him?

  And it wasn’t just Brody and me who were depending on us keeping our heads on straight. Drew needed this to work out too. He had an opportunity to better his life, and I was going to make that more difficult because I wanted to suck on his tongue. I was fucking unbelievable.

  After cursing my drunken self a little more, I rolled out of bed so I could use the bathroom. Once I was finished showering and making myself feel slightly human again, I peeked down the hall and saw Drew still sacked out on the couch.

  I wasn’t sure how he did what he did. He worked until closing well past midnight and then went to classes during the day. All while still finding time to do his schoolwork. He deserved more than to be dragged into my mess. But since that decrepit ship had already sailed, I decided to pay him back with the only thing I had in my arsenal: breakfast.

  As a rule, I avoided cooking. If it was touted as a recipe that couldn’t be messed up, I messed it up. But breakfast was a different story. I attributed it to the fact that my mom and I had made breakfast for the family every Sunday when I was young.

  It was one of the only bonding experiences with her I completely enjoyed because there’d been no ulterior motive behind it. She hadn’t been trying to groom me into some kind of debutante or list all the ways I hadn’t lived up to her standards. It had simply been a time for us to drop the pretenses and work together to not burn the house down. And we succeeded more times than not. Thankfully.

  Those mornings were fun, and because there was no expectation to live up to—my mother was an even worse cook than I was—I was able to just figure things out. The result was a banging French toast recipe and a near-savant level of adequacy when it came to cooking bacon. Tools I used to make Drew the best breakfast I could.

  After returning from the corner store with the items we hadn’t had on hand, I set to work. I tried to be quiet, but between the clanging of bowls and the scent of bacon wafting through the apartment, he stirred before I was finished preparing everything. In my periphery, I saw him scrub his eyes as if he were looking at a mirage.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Tuning an engine,” I responded dryly as I put the freshly dipped bread in the pan.

  “Is that…do I smell bacon?”

  “Yup.”

  “Where did we get bacon?”

  “From a pig, same as everyone else.”

  “Not people who eat turkey bacon.”

  “That’s not bacon.” I pointed a spatula at him to punctuate my point.

  He sat up and rubbed his hands over his face a few times before standing and walking toward the kitchen. “I’m not dreaming. You’re really making breakfast.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” I mumbled. But bantering with him, while fun, wasn’t supposed to be what this was about. I set the spatula down and turned to face him fully. “I wanted to thank you. For last night.”

  “You already thanked me for that.”

  “Yeah, but…” I shrugged and looked around at the mess I’d made. “Sometimes words aren’t enough.” I pointedly didn’t mention that I’d already used the no-words approach when I’d tried to kiss him.

  He looked at me for a moment. “You don’t owe me anything, Soph. I’m happy to help you.”

  “Well, I’m happy to make you breakfast.”

  The crooked grin that never failed to make my insides flutter a bit spread across his face. “I like dinner too, in case that also makes you happy.”

  Laughing, I grabbed a nearby dish towel and threw it at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

  Sadly, he caught the towel before it could smack him in the face. “Do I have time to grab a shower?” he asked.

  “A quick one, yeah.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

  And he was. Ten minutes later, we were filling our plates and carrying them to the small kitchen table, where I’d already put two glasses of orange juice.

  We ate for a bit in silence. Drew didn’t seem like he was burning to discuss anything, namely our almost-kiss the previous night, and I hoped that was a sign that he was willing to pretend it never happened. But while the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, I didn’t want him grasping at things to fill it with.

  “I got an email this morning from Macy, our sorority secretary,” I said.

  He finished chewing and took a sip of juice before replying. “Oh yeah? What was it about?”

  “It outlined what I’d have to do if I wanted to move forward with my claim to run for president.”

  Drew gave me a go on motion with one hand as he heaped more bacon onto his plate with the other.

  “First thing would be for me to send an ema
il of intent to the dean of student affairs. Once I get the okay from her to proceed, Erin’ll put together a meeting where Aamee and I’ll both present why we’re the best choice to be president. Then, everyone votes. Since Aamee is already president, I’d need a three-quarters vote to take the position from her.”

  Drew chewed for a second, his brow furrowed. Finally, he set his fork down and looked at me. “So what are you going to do?”

  I’d been asking myself that question since I read Macy’s email. Though I guess I’d really been asking it since I opened my big mouth during my appeal. I didn’t want to pursue this for a petty reason. I wanted to be sure that I could be the president Zeta Eta Chi deserved, instead of the one they got when Aamee stepped into the role.

  There was no mistaking the hopeful look on Drew’s face. He wanted me to go for it. He had wanted that since he found the rule in the first place. But I couldn’t do this just because I didn’t want to disappoint him. The reason needed to be bigger than that. Bigger than him. Bigger than even me. It had to be for what was truly best for the sorority that I’d been pressured to join but loved nonetheless.

  I leaned back in my chair and regarded him for a second. “I guess I’m going to draft a letter to the dean of student affairs.”

  Drew punched the air with his fists. “Yes!”

  And while I watched him celebrate, I dared to let a tendril of excitement unfurl inside me. This could happen. I could become president of Zeta Eta Chi.

  And for the first time, I truly wanted to be.

  Chapter Thirteen

  S O P H I A

  I expected to have more than a few days to get ready for the next sorority meeting, but if I wanted to become president, I was going to need to perform under pressure. And preparing a written statement outlining my qualifications was my first test.

  I’d had much of what I planned to say floating around in my head, but getting it down on paper proved much more difficult. How did I make myself seem fit for the position while showing Aamee’s weaknesses without looking like a spiteful bitch? There was a gentle finesse to it that I hoped like hell I got right.

  I glanced around the living room of the sorority house I hadn’t been in for weeks and tried to mentally settle the acid moving around in my stomach. I hadn’t had an appetite since the previous night, and it was almost five.

  Aamee sat across from me, both of us in hard chairs brought in from the dining room table, while the rest of our sisters made themselves comfortable in furniture of their choosing sprinkled around the perimeter of the room. It made me a little happy that Aamee didn’t have her throne tonight.

  Emma and Gina gave me small smiles, and a few other girls nodded in my direction, probably in an attempt to give me confidence I didn’t exactly feel. Since Aamee was going to be part of the meeting, the other officers suggested the vice president, Sam, run the agenda so as not to have a conflict of interest.

  As Sam looked down at her iPad, it struck me that Aamee hadn’t brought anything formal. She had no notebook or tablet in front of her, and I momentarily felt more adequately ready than she was. Maybe she’d underestimated me.

  Even if she had an idea of what she was going to say, showing up empty-handed made her seem ill-prepared. At least to me. I could only hope the other girls would notice it and think the same.

  Finally Sam spoke, breaking the tense silence and causing all of us to sit up a little straighter. She addressed the rest of the room first.

  “The secretary has taken attendance, and as we are only missing three members, this meeting shall come to order and proceed as planned. Sophia Mason has prepared a statement of her intent. We’ll let Sophia read her statement first, and then Aamee will have an opportunity to respond. We will continue with the meeting in a debate style to evaluate each candidate’s presidential qualifications.”

  Then Sam’s attention turned to Aamee and me. “You will both get sufficient time to respond to any questions asked by chapter members, as well as thirty seconds to rebut any comments made by each other. Other members may ask questions as they see fit, and you must answer them honestly. Do you both understand the rules as they’ve been outlined for you?”

  Aamee and I nodded, both of us clearly eager to get started.

  “Good,” Sam said. “Do either of you have any questions?”

  “Does this really need to be so formal?” Aamee asked. “We all know Sophia’s only challenging my position in office as retaliation for a punishment.”

  Sam looked directly at Aamee, a sternness to her face that I hadn’t expected to see. Sam and Aamee had always seemed to be friends, and they were, as far as I could tell. But I was thankful to see Sam was approaching this meeting seriously and with an unbiased attitude.

  “While that may be true,” said Sam, “it is a challenge nonetheless, and we’ll hear Sophia out. She’s still one of our sisters, and she’s entitled to this meeting.”

  Aamee rolled her eyes but had nothing more to say. That was a first.

  Sam turned her attention to me. “Sophia, you may begin whenever you’re ready. Please address Aamee directly, as she is your opponent.”

  Clearing my voice, I glanced at my notes, which I’d spent most of the morning trying to memorize, and then looked up at Aamee. I wouldn’t let her intimidate me.

  “I’m here today to formally voice my intention to run for the office of president of Zeta Eta Chi,” I said.

  Aamee glared at me, her light eyes barely blinking.

  “You’re right that I originally sought this presidency because of retaliation, but I’m seeking it currently for reasons beyond that. I believe that I am better qualified to run this sorority than you, and I hope that after this meeting, the rest of the group will agree with me.”

  I looked back to Sam to signal that I was finished with my opening.

  “Let the record indicate that Sophia Mason has formally identified her intent to run for president.” Sam looked to Macy, who was transcribing the meeting on her laptop. “Aamee, what, if anything, do you have to say in response to this challenge?”

  Aamee stood, her hair flipping around as she looked back and forth at the other girls. “This challenge is a joke, but if Sophia thinks she can prove her competence as president, let her. The burden of proof is on her to show she’s better qualified to hold office.”

  “Actually,” Sam said, “that’s not entirely true. Even though you currently have the title, once she challenges you, it’s as if you are both running for office. Everyone should vote based on who is a better fit for the position, not whether you have done anything worthy of being removed from your position. This isn’t the same as a courtroom, where there is a ‘burden of proof,’ as you say. You are not innocent until proven guilty.”

  Aamee looked pissed and sat back down. I tried not to smile. Essentially, we were equal candidates running for the same position, and I hoped the other girls understood that.

  Sam continued. “But since Sophia is the one challenging you, I think it’s fitting that she be the first one to outline her qualifications.” She looked to me. “Sophia.”

  I stood this time, though I really didn’t know if I was supposed to. “After my removal from the house, I spent some time going through the sorority handbook.” I looked down at Aamee. “Thank you for bringing that to my attention, by the way. I hadn’t thought to read it closely until then.” Aamee rolled her eyes again and crossed her arms in a huff. She was so mature. “The handbook highlights some of the qualifications and traits of an effective officer, and I’d like to quote from that section if I may.”

  Sam nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “According to page forty-two, ‘Any position is a leadership role, and the officer should behave as such.’ I don’t think I need to point out that Aamee has not exhibited leadership in the sense that she’s had members of the opposite sex in her room plenty of times.”

  “We’ve already been over this,” Aamee said.

  Sam held up a finger to silence h
er. “You’ll get your time to speak in a moment.”

  “You’re correct,” I said. “We’ve been over that. I’m bringing it up now for another reason. Previously, I pointed out this fact as a way to show Aamee’s bias against me and the hypocrisy of her choice to punish me harshly for something she’s done herself. I’m pointing it out now for the purpose of proving that Aamee does not lead by example.”

  “Aamee? Would you like to address this?”

  “Yes, I’d like to address it. Your accusation is worthless. You’re just as hypocritical as me. You call yourself a leader, but you had a boy in your room too. How can you claim you’re fit to hold office if you’re saying I’m not for the exact same offense you’re guilty of?”

  I looked to Sam. “Since she asked me a direct question, may I answer?”

  “You may.”

  “I wasn’t an elected officer, though, and while ignorance isn’t an excuse in any circumstance, I wasn’t aware of the rule until you pointed it out to me. I can assure you that if I become president, I will abide by the rule, as arcane as it may be.”

  “So you’re saying that previous to retaliating against me, you never read the handbook?”

  “I’d skimmed it.” I was aware of how the admission sounded. “Just as most of our sisters who aren’t officers have done. Clearly, you knew the rule, yet you still chose to break it.” Then I went out on a limb—took a chance I hoped was worth the risk. “Have you broken it since you evicted me?”

  Aamee remained silent, but a few of the girls murmured to each other, effectively answering the question for her.

  “That’ll be enough of the back and forth,” Sam said. “Sophia, do you have any other accomplishments or qualifications you’d like to add that you believe would make you an effective president?”

  “Yes, the handbook also speaks of character and service to both the university and the community. I don’t think I need to cite examples of Aamee’s lack of integrity, but I will anyway. Last year she admitted to cheating on Dr. Lind’s final.”