Trying to Score Read online

  I swear I can hear my pulse rioting in my veins, but as it gets progressively louder, I realize it’s someone knocking at the door.

  “Hey, lovebirds,” a familiar voice calls. Owen. “I’ve got something for you.” He slips something small and silver beneath the door. A condom.

  Freaking great. Now our friends think we’re hooking up.

  And unless we can stop this creepy computer genius snooping through Teddy’s in-box, they’re going to have video evidence soon.

  2

  * * *

  Is It Hot in Here?

  Teddy

  Undercurrents of tension filled with raw sexuality snap between us. My gaze meets Sara’s, and six thousand different emotions slam through me all at once.

  I feel like the world’s biggest asshole. No, I am the world’s biggest asshole.

  Not only did my messed-up decision to keep a copy of that hot-as-fuck sex tape put Sara’s entire future in jeopardy, but I’ve basically just admitted to the fact that she’s been in regular rotation in my spank bank for years. And considering we’ve kept things strictly platonic for the past seven years now, I know I’ve caught her totally off guard.

  Am I proud of the fact that I regularly jack off to memories of our hookup? No. Has that even once stopped me? Nope.

  Fuck, I’m the actual worst.

  There are many things I know about the woman standing in front of me. She’s funny. Smart. Articulate. A kick-ass attorney. But there are other things too… And unfortunately, the thing that lodges in my brain is the least helpful right now. Back in college, she majored in Poli Sci and minored in riding my dick. At least junior year. After that, we successfully swerved into the friend zone—which seems like a small miracle given the amount of chemistry zapping between us. It would also help immensely if I didn’t still have vivid mental images of plowing into her from behind.

  Her lush pink mouth falls open and she makes a breathless sound. It takes me right back to the night everything changed.

  We’d been hanging out for a couple of months by then after meeting in a business management lecture at our university. I’d been attracted to her from day one, but since a full course load and playing college hockey kept me busy, and because she’d let it slip that the only committed relationship she was looking for was one with her vibrator and her classes, I’d let it drop. She was smart, pretty, and funny—but I had no time for a girlfriend, and so into the friend zone we ventured. But then one night, things shifted.

  It was late. Dark outside. We were wrestling for the remote control on my dorm-room bed after finishing a study session. She ended up in my lap, her hips bumping mine, and then it was game over for my libido. And there was no hiding it. I knew the second she felt my body’s physical reaction to hers, because she halted stiffly in my arms, her lips parting in surprise.

  “Sorry.” I apologized hoarsely, reaching down to adjust the obvious erection bulging in the front of my athletic shorts.

  Sara’s eyes met mine, then ventured briefly down to my mouth. She didn’t climb from my lap or push away from me like I was expecting. Instead, she bit down on her lip, those perfectly straight white teeth chewing on her plump lower lip while she gazed at me.

  “Sorry for what?” Her voice had a playful lilt to it.

  She had to know, right?

  I cleared my throat, willing my erection to fade. “For getting excited. There’s a hot chick in my lap, in case you didn’t notice,” I said, trying to lighten the mood with a smirk.

  “Yeah?” she said coyly, still watching me like I was the most fascinating creature in the world. “Do I get you excited, TK?” Her lips twitched with a smile while she waited for my answer.

  I was completely out of my element. Her brazen confidence, her directness—it was a lot for twenty-one-year-old me to handle. I was used to shy fumbling in the dark, stolen kisses, and quick hookups that were over almost before they started. This entire conversation felt like foreplay, and I was more turned on than I’d ever been. And she hadn’t even laid a single finger on me.

  Her challenging stare made me bold, and so I rocked my hips—just once—letting her feel my full arousal and the answer to that question.

  “I think that’s a big fucking yes, don’t you?” When her mouth opened again, I was afraid I’d gone too far, and so I mumbled, “But we’re friends. So, like I said, I’m sorry.”

  She cocked her head. “We are friends, but . . . I like sex. You like sex. It’s an excellent form of aerobic activity. Not to mention stress relief.”

  I swallowed the giant lump in my throat. Was she suggesting what I thought she was suggesting?

  There was no way I was that lucky.

  “Why don’t we just fuck and get it out of the way?” she said in a challenging tone, her sultry blue eyes dancing mischievously at me.

  I was sure she was kidding. Fucking with me. She had to be.

  Except . . . she wasn’t.

  That was how we ended up naked in my bed for the first time.

  Sara was so spontaneous, so fun, and she loved sex as much as I did. After that first time, it became a regular thing. We were kind of insatiable for each other, hooking up whenever we had free time—after class, late at night, once in the back of the library.

  One night I suggested on a whim that we film it, and then waited for her to shoot down the idea. Only she didn’t. When she got a flirty gleam in her eye, I started begging, and she laughed at me.

  “Please. No one will see it but us,” I promised, pinning her down on the bed with my body on top of hers.

  She was still smiling when I told her it would get me through the summer and give me something to remember her by. She was leaving in a few days to go back home, a few hours away, where she had an internship lined up at a law office for the summer.

  “You won’t show any of your teammates?” she asked, searching my eyes.

  “God, no,” I assured her. “It’ll be for our eyes only. I promise.”

  It wasn’t serious between us, but it was monogamous, and I would never share something so private with anyone—let alone my loudmouthed teammates.

  It was all the reassurance she needed, because then she helped me set up the camera phone to capture our best (and dirtiest) angles.

  The video was scorching hot, and I took great care to save it somewhere no one would ever stumble across it.

  But then she called in a panic a few days later, asking me to delete all traces of the video. I calmed her down, promising that I would. And I really intended to. I should have, obviously.

  But I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it, and so I ended up saving a copy on my personal cloud.

  Sara came back to campus the next fall with a new boyfriend she’d met at the law firm, another intern, and that was the end of our physical relationship. We’ve remained friends, but I never forgot about our hot campus history, or the chemistry that still crackles between us whenever she’s near, even all these years later.

  And looking at her now, at all those curves draped in red silk, how can I ever forget what we shared? She’s a smart, fierce, driven lawyer and, honestly, quite a fucking catch.

  But with her demanding career and my pro hockey schedule, it just wasn’t meant to be. We both work too much, and plus I’m pretty sure she still sees me as an immature coed jock—the one who suggested sex tapes and library romps and played too many video games—even if I have changed. At least a little.

  Sara makes a low noise of disapproval and pulls open the door to the conference room to face our unwelcome intruder.

  Owen stands in the hall, his grin fading as he takes in our tense expressions.

  “Thought you sneaked away for some fun with your date,” he says, meeting Sara’s eyes.

  “Not hardly.” She takes a step forward, obviously ready to set him straight, but my hand on her lower back stops her. She takes a deep breath, composing herself, while I usher Owen into the hallway.

  We’ve never told our friends about o
ur brief history, and honestly, why would we? It’s no one’s business but our own, and besides, it’s ancient history at this point anyway, not exactly breaking news. Unless this fuckface who is threatening to release the video actually does, then it’ll be on every news outlet from here to China.

  Fuck.

  “I need to talk with Sara. In private,” I say sternly.

  Owen holds up both hands. “It’s cool. I was just messing with you.”

  I nod. “I know. But now’s not a good time.”

  Owen’s normally playful expression falls. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. All good,” I lie. “Just something Sara and I need to work out.”

  “Cool. Well, if you need me, I’ll be eating about six thousand of those crab-puff things. Have you had one? They’re amazing.” Owen bumps his fist against mine, and then I watch him walk away toward the ballroom before I reenter the conference room and close the door again.

  Sara’s seated in one of the chairs, looking like she’s ready for corporate battle. A worried crease has formed between her brows, the only indication of stress in her otherwise confident demeanor. Another pang of regret that I’ve put her in this situation jolts through me.

  I take the seat across from her and meet her steely blue gaze. “So, will you be my lawyer or not?”

  Her features relax, and she lifts her chin. “Doesn’t sound like I have a choice.”

  Releasing a long sigh, I push both hands into my hair. “I’m so fucking sorry about all of this, Sara.”

  “You apologized already. Twice,” she points out.

  “That doesn’t make it any better.” And it certainly doesn’t erase the gnawing guilt eating a hole inside my chest.

  She frowns. “No, it doesn’t. But what’s done is done. I guess now we have to face the consequences.”

  I swallow a lump in my throat. “I never thought that video would get out.”

  “That makes two of us.” Rising to her feet, she steadies herself with one hand on the table. “I don’t really feel up to celebrating tonight. I think I’m actually going to head out. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

  I rise to my feet along with her. “How did you get here?”

  “An Uber,” she says.

  “Then let me drive you home. It’s the least I can do.”

  She doesn’t put up a fight, and together we say good-bye to everyone still left at the table. Becca pries away a plate of crab puffs from Owen, telling him he’s going to have a stomachache later if he doesn’t stop. Normally, this would be comical to watch, but my tense nerves won’t let me enjoy their playful squabble.

  The car ride is a silent one, and when Sara and I reach her place, I get out and walk her to the front door. We pause together, Sara’s eyes on mine, but her expression is impossible to read. I’m afraid I’ve fucked up beyond repair. And even if we’re not romantically involved, I value our friendship above everything else.

  “We’ll figure this out, okay? Please don’t hate me,” I say, attempting a smile, but it feels strange, almost like I’ve forgotten how in the stress of the past few hours.

  She shakes her head slightly. “I don’t hate you. I knew what I was doing when I said yes to filming us. This just sucks.”

  “That it does.” I rub one hand over the back of my neck. “But I should have deleted the video like you asked.” Understatement of the century.

  She meets my eyes, weighing my words. “Obviously.”

  “I never showed it to a soul, I promise you. It was just for me. My eyes only.” My admission comes out soft and sorrowful, and she has every right to knee me in the nuts right now, but thankfully, for the boys’ sake, she doesn’t.

  Adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder, she nods in agreement. “I believe you. And I’m going to work hard to make this thing disappear. Our first step will be to send a cease-and-desist order.”

  My relief is immediate and I give a tight nod. “Sounds like a plan. And thanks again.”

  I pull her into my arms for a hug. Her forgiving reaction and willingness to help makes me feel even worse. She really is an amazing girl, and I hate that I’ve put her in a bad situation. The hug only lasts for a few seconds, but the simmering attraction I normally keep on lockdown lingers long after I release her.

  As I watch her walk inside, I fight to ignore the accompanying twitch in my pants. That’s what got us into trouble in the first place, and the last thing I need to do is make everything ten times worse by fondling my attorney.

  No matter how badly I might want to.

  3

  * * *

  Skin in the Game

  Sara

  After the craziness of law school and an even crazier career as an attorney, I consider myself somewhat of an expert on balancing a packed schedule. My number one tip? Find a friend who is just as busy as you are. Someone who understands that, while you may not get to hang out all the time, your time together is sacred and special. For me, that someone is Bailey. She’s literally the best human.

  This morning, while most of the girls here at our favorite brunch spot are ordering bottomless mimosas, we’re clinking together our coffee mugs and commiserating over the fact that weekends don’t really mean downtime for us. With her med school midterms approaching, Bailey is spending this rare time not studying by talking about, well, studying.

  How this girl balances med school, work, and any semblance of a social life is beyond me. I barely had enough time to grocery shop back when I was in law school. Actually, scratch that. I barely have enough time to grocery shop now either. Thank God for the new grocery-delivery service I discovered.

  “So,” Bailey exhales, having shared her entire study schedule with me in an hour-by-hour breakdown, “that’s what the next week of my life is going to look like. Do you think I can survive?”

  I spread a thin layer of grape jelly onto my toast, thankful for her friendship and the fact that she’s doing a pretty decent job of distracting me from this crazy sex-tape drama. “If anyone can survive this, it’s you.” I meet her eyes with a quick smile. “And hey, at least the auction event is over. That’s one less thing on your schedule.”

  Bailey sighs as she tears open a packet of sweetener and empties it into her mug. “It was a fun event, and I’m glad I got to go. But, honestly, the date auction just reminded me of how long it’s been since I’ve gone on one.”

  I can totally relate to that. It’s been months since I’ve been out on a proper date. Unless you count winning Teddy at the auction. But I don’t think it counts as a date if the main topic of discussion is legal action. In fact, I think that was the first client meeting I’ve ever paid for instead of being paid.

  “I’m with you on the dating front,” I say, dabbing the crumbs off of my lip gloss with a napkin. “Until I make partner, I’m not even thinking about anything that’s more than purely physical.”

  Bailey groans. “I don’t even know that I have time for that, though. Finding someone to have sex with means hours of weeding through weirdos on dating apps just to find someone halfway decent. It’s practically another homework assignment.”

  I chuckle into my coffee mug. She’s right.

  “You could always meet someone in one of your classes,” I remind her.

  My memory flashes back to that lecture hall back in college, the one where my business management class met. When Teddy sat next to me on the first day, his broad shoulders draped in his hockey jersey and his dark hair still wet from showering after practice, I knew right away that I had found both my study buddy and my fuck buddy for the semester. The sex was adventurous and seriously hot, and I’ve been chasing athletes ever since, desperately looking for the same rush TK gave me every time he took me to bed.

  “Do you think that’s smart?” Bailey asks.

  I tilt my head, racking my brain for what our topic of conversation was. Med school? Midterms? Whatever it was, my Teddy-inspired daydream threw me off my train of thought.

  “M
ixing sex and med school,” Bailey says. “If I sleep with a guy in my program, I’m worried it could be a distraction.”

  I stifle my grin with another bite of toast, thinking about how little studying TK and I got done that semester. It’s a wonder either of us passed that class. “Great point. Nothing good ever comes out of mixing work and play.”

  Bailey lifts an eyebrow in my direction. “Why does it sound like you’re speaking from experience?”

  “I’ve just heard stories from people I went to law school with,” I lie, doing my best to avoid making direct eye contact.

  I desperately wish I could tell her every detail about Teddy, the sex tape, the hacker, the whole disaster unfolding before me. But what good is that going to do? Bailey doesn’t need any additional worries or anxiety on her shoulders, especially with her exams approaching. And he and I certainly don’t need to get more people involved in this mess. What I need to do is talk to Teddy, agree to take his case, and get to work making sure this sex tape is deleted once and for all.

  As we wrap up brunch and take care of the check, Bailey suggests continuing our girls’ day with pedicures. As good as a nice soak and scrub would be for my mental health, I know I can’t put off talking to Teddy any longer.

  “I have a really big client meeting,” I explain. It’s not a complete lie. I’m just leaving out the part where I made a sex tape with said client. And the part where I’m trying to keep that sex tape off of every tabloid website in the world. No pressure.

  “No worries. I should be studying anyway.” Bailey sighs, her eyes clouding over as she returns to med-school mode. “I wish I could just fast forward to my clinicals already. Or better yet, to the part where I’m an actual doctor.”

  “The hard work is going to pay off,” I assure her.

  It’s a good reminder for both of us. Sometimes, it feels like the hours I’ve been putting in at the firm lately are stripping me of my sanity. Throw in this sex-tape snafu, and I’m a perfect candidate for a complete and total mental breakdown. But if I can keep my nose to the grindstone, I know it will all pay off. I’ll earn that corner office, no matter how much sleep I lose or tears I shed along the way.