The Shameless Hour (The Ivy Years #4)

But the dude couldn’t decide where to put his eyes or his temper. His baffled gaze kept jumping between the soda running down his arm and the horrors of his fraternity’s unfortunate public statement. “Hey!” he yelled toward someone in the stands. “Who did this?”

He tried to step around me, but I blocked him, because I couldn’t see whether Bella was clear of the place yet.

“Look,” I said, taking a ten out of my pocket. “Take this, I’m sorry about the drinks.”

“Whatever, asshole. Just move it.”

I tucked the ten in his shirt pocket and then cut around him, heading for the exits.

Neither Bella nor Lianne was anywhere in sight. By the time I made it out to the tailgate lot again, the van’s engine had started, its taillights glowing cheerily in the evening light.

Feeling the first whiff of relief, I watched it drive away.

Twenty-Eight

Bella

I drove the van through the streets of Harkness while laughing like a maniac.

Apparently the body’s physiological response to getting away with pranking a fraternity was an epic attack of the giggles. I hadn’t giggled so much since the ninth grade, but here I was, losing my shit in the driver’s seat, while Lianne lost hers beside me. And in the seats behind us, a dozen models laughed and chattered among themselves.

“Oh God, these shots are perfect,” Lianne said between laughing jags. “Your friend Graham sent photos and a video. I can’t wait to see these in high-res. There’s a bunch of texts from him, too.”

“What do they say?”

“There’s… ‘Oh my God, Oh my God. You are a genius. Best idea since fortune cookies.’”

That one made me laugh.

“And the last one says ‘marry me.’”

I snorted. “There was a time when I would have.”

“Really? I need to meet this guy.”

“I’m sure you will. And his boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Yup.” I stopped at the last traffic light before the train station. My heart was still thumping with adrenaline, even though the fun part of our mission was over. It was just dawning on me that maybe I was about to get into so much trouble. Anyone from Beta Rho could have spotted me in the van with the models, or sitting across the aisle at the game. “Hey, Lianne? Can you see us in the pictures Graham sent?”

She manipulated my phone, squinting down at the screen. “Yeah, but just barely. And we’re off to the side. And so what?”

“I’m not letting you take the fall for this,” I said, already bracing for the consequences.

Lianne reached across the gear box and put a hand on my arm. “You do not need to worry about me. I’m serious. If this gets out, my manager will be pissed, but my publicist will do a happy dance.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m her most boring client. I mean, it’s not like she wants to see me land in rehab. But it’s hard to get media attention for someone who never leaves her room.”

I swung the van into the train station drop-off circle and killed the engine. Lianne turned around in her seat. “Thank you for your service, ladies. It’s been a pleasure. Paychecks are coming from your agency.”

One of the models opened the sliding door and another called out a question. “Can we keep the sweatshirts?”

“Sure!” I called. “But I wouldn’t wear them on the train. It’s unlikely, but there could be Beta Rho guys onboard, and they might give you a hard time.”

“Oh, I’m wearing mine,” said a statuesque redhead named Amber. “Fuck it.”

That set us off on another round of laughing, and the models climbed out of the van. Lianne shut the door behind them and I drove off again.

The final steps in our plan took another hour and also made me feel like a criminal.

In a dumpster behind the van rental place, we threw away the extra Beta Rho shirts and the instructions we’d printed out for the models. Then, after checking the van for incriminating evidence, we turned it in. Finally, we called a taxi to take us back to campus.

“I’m starving,” Lianne admitted while we rode back in the cab. “Let’s order something the minute we get home.”

“But the dining hall is serving for another fifteen minutes,” I pointed out. “We can just run in there right now.”

“Well, okay,” Lianne said quietly.

When we walked into the dining hall entryway, Lianne went straight instead of climbing the stairs. “Um, where are you going?” I asked.