Pucking Parker (Face-Off Legacy/Campus Kings 1)

When we step inside the club, the bass is thumping, the music vibrating beneath my four-inch heels. I look like a giant in these. I’m well over six feet tall with them on, which makes me stick out even more. The other girls in our group are on the petite side, with the exception of Taylor. She’s almost as tall as me and built like an athlete.

“We have to check in,” Shannon informs us.

Preston slips his fingers between mine as we move through the mass of people. A prick of electricity stings my fingers. His calloused skin is so rough against mine, and I can’t stop myself from wondering how his hands would feel on other parts of my body.

After Shannon confirms our spot in the competition, I untangle my fingers from Preston’s, already missing his warmth.

I smile. “Wish me luck.”

He gives me a crooked smile that sets my insides on fire. “Good luck. Remember what I said. If you get nervous, look at me. And no one else. It’s no different than playing in a game or a tournament. You’ve had thousands of people watch you over the course of your college basketball career.”

“True. But I’m good at basketball. That comes natural to me. Dancing doesn’t.”

“It’s one dance. No one will even know you were up there after tonight. The money is for charity. That should give you more incentive to win.”

I flash a reassuring grin at him. “Thanks, Parker.”

He winks. “Anytime.”

I turn away from Preston, now following Shannon and her friends to the back of the club. A bouncer ushers us into a large open room with vanities on one wall, where a few girls are seated. Others stand behind them, fixing their hair or makeup in the mirror.

I recognize some of the girls, and I have no idea why.

“Do they look familiar to you?” I ask Taylor, motioning to the girls in the right-hand corner of the room.

She tilts her head to the side, taking her time to look them over. “Yeah, I know them. Those are the girls from Kappa something or other. I can’t remember the full name of their sorority.” Taylor glances around the room, her eyes landing on another team of girls in the center of the room.

“Hello, have you not seen all the lights out there?” A girl says from behind us, talking loudly to her friend. “They’re filming this for the senior project. It’s in high def.” She tugs on the girl’s arm, helping her to an open chair. “C’mon, I need your expert blending skills. This concealer is being a real bitch. I don’t want to go out there looking like a pumpkin.”

I shudder at the mention of the senior project. Will I be included in this footage? For my sake, I hope not. How would I explain this to my dad?

I feel so out of place around these girls. My childhood was spent at either an ice rink or on a basketball court—not at Neiman Marcus. They are the kind of girls Preston would date. Beautiful and made up like Barbie dolls.

Shannon introduces us to the girls in our dance group, seven in total. I can’t remember any of their names. Mostly because I know I won’t need to after this dance is over. We will go our separate ways after tonight.

Once it’s our turn, a bouncer leads us out of the room and down the creepy back hallway. He pushes open a door that leads to a long bar, the one we’re expected to dance on. He helps each of us onto the bar. There are so many people in the crowd.

Why did I agree to this?

I shouldn’t have bet Preston. But why not? I should have won. H-O-R-S-E is my jam. It should have been a slam dunk. But Preston had other plans, and with a mom like his, the game was probably already in the bag for him before I even knew it.

I squint when the bright lights hit me in the face, now realizing why the girl in the dressing room was so concerned about her makeup. Poles line the bar, each of us stepping forward to grab hold of one. I glance over at Taylor, my body shaking from fear. No amount of drinks could have prepared me for the throng of drunken idiots staring up at me.

Recalling Preston’s encouraging words, I scan the crowd for him. He’s three rows back from the edge of the bar when his eyes find mine. I bite my bottom lip, trying to contain my nerves. He must notice my reaction, because he taps Jamie on the shoulder, telling him to move forward.

Preston’s friends follow his lead, and I can’t take my eyes off him. Because of Preston, I don’t care about the people in the audience. The only person that matters is staring back at me, keeping me grounded.