“I could help you.”
“Help me?”
He nods. “With public speaking.”
“In exchange for what? Talking to Katie?”
Nolan shakes his head. “Don’t get involved with that. She’ll thaw out and talk to me in a few days.”
It’s the last answer I expected.
“That’s good because I was about to tell you this deal will never work. She won’t talk to me, either. She hasn’t responded to any of my calls or texts.”
He winces. “That’s just Katie. She gets mad and gives the silent treatment for a couple of days. She’ll forgive you.”
“We’ve never fought before,” I admit.
Regret sobers him. “I shouldn’t have had the party.”
Everything inside of me wants to object. “What would you want in exchange?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Teach me how to make your trip wire.”
I look at him with narrowed eyes. “What’s the catch?”
“Are you always this suspicious?”
“Says the guy who planted a man with an ax out the window.”
Amusement curls his lips. “You can deny it all you want, but you get a high off the pranks. I see it in your eyes. I saw it when you were talking to your sister, and she mentioned the gift you sent.”
I want to deny it and tell him he doesn’t know me well enough to read my eyes or know what I do and don’t like, but he’s right.
“I could help you.”
I scoff. It’s a hundred percent rude and inappropriate. Yet, Nolan only smirks in response.
“I don’t mean it personally, it’s just…” I shake my head. “This isn’t the first time I’ve tried conquering my fear of public speaking. This isn’t like a mild case of stage fright. I get up in front of people and I literally forget how to talk. The only words I can recall are elementary and broken, and I repeat myself and stutter and apologize and…” I shake my head. “It’s bad. Like, bad, bad.”
“The team requires us to go through public speaking training for the interviews we have to give. I’ve been training for the past three years.”
“But you’re a natural and you don’t have a shy bone in your body.”
He doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t have to. Nolan is the definition of outgoing and fun. “Wouldn’t it be nice if that were true?” His words contradict his grin.
He’s lying. He’s probably even manipulating me. Still, I ask, “What’s in it for you?”
He shrugs. “I’ll learn how to torment the freshmen with trip wires. Can they trigger whipped cream pies?”
Skepticism has me considering why this is a bad idea.
“But you’ll probably want to come to the dorms for our lessons.”
“Your dorm?”
“Unless you want an audience.”
Filthy thoughts appear like a memory being triggered by a sound or scent, the idea of Nolan undressing me, touching me, sliding inside of me while others watch. My heart races and my skin feels tight, my breasts heavy and it has nothing to do with the ideas of an audience but of Nolan touching me.