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"Semester just started, Piper. I don’t need a stalker."
"A stalker," she scoffed, blushing hard.
"We can be friends," I murmured. "Right across the hall from each other in that little corner, three feet apart. Those walls are pretty thin. We can let everybody know just how great you’re doing, now that you’re at Marrs."
Her lips parted. Those full, luscious lips.
My smile widened. "You don’t have to pull the hard RA crap."
"Oh." Piper stiffened. "I understand."
"Shit. No. Wait. Back up. Look, Piper, I’ve known you since—"
"And I know you too. Marrs Manwhore."
The nickname usually didn’t mean anything to me. It was catchy. I couldn’t deny it.
The Marrs Manwhore social media pages always beat my regular ones in terms of engagement. Bleacher bunnies wore Marrs Manwhore shirts to games, people had me sign homemade posters with the nickname. It cemented my place, so I never thought to care.
But for some reason, I had to stop grinding my teeth when Piper said it. From everybody else, fine, fuck it. Whatever. The video of me hauling ass on a ledge in only boxers was funny. But the nickname from Piper Fontaine?
It…hurt?
What the hell?
I smiled without humor, pushing past that weird, new feeling. "You know what, Piper?"
She narrowed her eyes. "What?"
"I’m known as the Marrs Manwhore by every girl who wants my dick. Not known for cheating on somebody and getting caught on camera. That’s amateur hour. I guess he couldn’t have wanted to keep it quiet that badly."
It was too much. Too heavy-handed.
She picked up a slice of key lime pie from the table and smashed it into the side of my head. And that wasn’t enough for her. Piper smeared it into my hair and on my face, a slow, deliberate smushing.
Yep. I went too far.
Resident assistants stopped to watch with open mouths. Everything fell quiet in the lobby. The music even skipped a beat.
"Thank you so much for being our first contestant for the pie-throwing event." Piper beamed, heavenly sweet.
Nice move, Fontaine.
I dragged a finger through the key lime pie on my jaw and popped it in my mouth.
No one spoke a word.
"Piper?" My humorless smile widened. "You, angry, is absolutely fucking delicious."
4
Piper
Apology Unaccepted Because They Ruin Parties
Fifteen minutes before midnight, I paced my bedroom in a weird mixture of anxiety, regret, frustration, and the deepest kind of nausea.
For the upcoming RA trip, I’d been tasked to teach a class to other resident assistants. I tried reciting my lines again. Which was working out about as well as expected with Adam’s party next door.
