The halls buzz with animated chatter as I make my way to my small dorm room on the third floor. I keep my head bowed low, not interested in conversation, making nice, playing the game of innocent college student when I’m anything but.

What I am, as it turns out, is a liar.

And not a very successful one at that.

I pause at the door and sigh. My roommate and best friend since high school, Lindsay Reynolds, has hung a sock on the door, which is the universal symbol for “Do Not Enter.” Damn it. My frustration is tempered with envy. I don’t remember the last time I went on a date. Even longer still since I’ve been touched by a man, or liked one enough to want to be touched by him.

Holden excluded of course.

My thoughts drift back to his office, where I’m shocked to realize how close I came to actually agreeing to his indecent proposal. It’s more than my need for information—I felt something in his presence. And not just an unfamiliar tingle between my thighs, either.

Which is ridiculous, because Holden Quinn is a stubborn, hot headed, arrogant jerk—

The door opens and Reggie—at least I think his name is Reggie—stumbles out, half dressed, a ridiculously lovesick expression turning him into a cartoon caricature. He’s not ugly, but he’s just a kid, while Holden…

Well, Holden is most definitely a man.

I clear my throat. “Safe to go in now?”

He blinks, like he didn’t even see me standing there—which is par for the course, really—and grins. “Oh, hey Chelsea. Lindsay’s inside.”

“I certainly hope so,” I say. “Otherwise I’d be calling security right now.”

He just chuckles and walks off.

I should be used to the revolving door that has become our dorm room, but it’s still so foreign to me.

I walk into the suite, and the musky scent of sex nearly brings my gorge up. My gag reflex pulses. Gross. I spot Lindsay at the back of kitchen, hanging her head out the window with her e-cigarette dangling between her lips. A cloud of smoke billows from her mouth and disappears into the cloudless sky.

“You’re going to get us busted,” I say, chucking my purse onto the coffee table. My eyes graze over the couch, the rumpled blanket and scattered pillows a clear signal that today’s lovebirds didn’t bother taking their afternoon delight to the bedroom. “Tell me I’m not going to sit in come if I flop down on that chair.”

“Okay,” Lindsay says, dragging her head back inside the room, the lingering scent of raspberry floating in along with it. “You’re not going to sit in come.”

“I totally am, aren’t I?”

I pull out a barstool and perch on the edge, feet hanging inches from the floor. We inherited most of our furniture, which meant collecting the leftovers after our friends and family bought the good stuff for themselves. I don’t mind most of it, but the stools are too tall. I practically need a pole vault to sit on them properly, and my ass hurts after ten minutes on their hard surface.

Lindsay doesn’t have that problem. She’s tall and willowy, with long red hair that curls without product, and looks sexy whether it’s piled in a messy bun or flowing over her broad shoulders. Today, it’s kind of half and half, which I suspect is a result of Reggie dragging his hands through it.

She pulls her bathrobe tighter, cinching it around her tiny waist with a neat little bow. She really bloomed after high school, transforming from awkward dandelion to exotic flower.

Lindsay even seems surprised by all the male attention she gets these days, and perhaps that’s why she keeps screwing every decent looking man who walks her way.

“So…” She grabs a couple bottles of water from the fridge and hands me one. “How did it go with sexy Mr. Billionaire?” She squints at the clock above the stove. “I thought for sure you’d be gone a couple hours.”

I bite my lip. “Things didn’t work out the way I planned.” Not by a long shot, but I’m not sure how much I’m willing to say to Lindsay. She’ll either be pissed or impressed, and neither reaction really fits my mood.

“He’s a dick, isn’t he?” She tosses her empty bottle in the sink. “I had a feeling. He just has that look, you know?” I don’t bother interrupting. Lindsay on a roll is like a freight train barreling toward its destination. “Probably got his secretary to do his dirty work. Bet he didn’t even take the meeting.”

I slug back some water but it does nothing to wash away the bitter taint of my interaction with Holden. “He did.”

She looks surprised. “Great! Did he give you any intel that will help with your dissertation?”

I shake my head.

She lets out a sigh. “Figures. Maybe it’s for the best anyway.” At my raised eyebrow, she shrugs. “I don’t know why you chose him. Those Daylight guys are like Fort Knox. Untouchable. Shit, even the media has a tough time getting an interview.”

Lindsay doesn’t know the real reason I chose Holden Quinn for my assignment, instead believing I went to the meeting on a dare. A challenge I clearly failed. Just as she suspected I would.

“I almost had him.”

She blinks, as if not quite sure how to interpret my intentionally vague words, and then chuckles. “Oh sweetie, don’t be fooled. Guys like Holden Quinn just like to play with girls.” I bristle at her subtle mocking, the implication that maybe a more skilled, mature woman would have gotten further. “He doesn’t have time for—”

Pride gets the best of me. “Actually, he propositioned me.”

She goes very still. Her eyes widen. “You mean…” I don’t say anything, waiting for the gears to click into place, a small thrill running up and down my spine. “As in sex?”

I nod and she gives me a look of utter disbelief, which only sinks the knife of insecurity deeper into my chest. I should know better than to confide in Lindsay. Much as I love her, she can be insensitive.

She glances up the clock a second time and smirks. “So again, I ask, what are you doing home so early?”

My stomach summersaults. I want to be appalled by the Holden’s proposition and Lindsay’s cavalier response, but the truth is, I can’t stop thinking about it. What it might be like to have Holden kiss me, touch me…fuck me. My cheeks burn hot. “Obviously, I told him to go to hell.”

Literally.

I practically screamed it while he stood there like I was the crazy one.

“Why?”

I shake my head. “What do you mean why? Because it’s insulting.” My breath comes out in a huff. “Offensive.”

“You weren’t tempted?”

“No.” I glance away, disappointed yet again at how easily it’s become for me to lie.

Lindsay leans up against the kitchen counter, her red hair like a flame against the cheap white cabinets. She tilts her head back and folds her arms across her chest.

I make a face. “What?”

“Not even a little?”

The first inklings of doubt scrunches between my shoulder blades. “You’d date a guy you know is absolutely wrong for you, just because he’s hot?”

Lindsay rolls her eyes. “Not date. Have sex with. Which is what you should do.”

My eyes grow wide. “Seriously?”

She shrugs like she hasn’t dropped an atomic bomb. “He’s rich. Hella hot…”

I gasp. “And a total asshole.”

“So, what,” Lindsay says, with a laugh. “You’re not looking to marry the guy. Just have a little fun. What can it hurt?’ Her eyes twinkle. “I mean, besides your crotch. You’ve been celibate so long, you need to be broken in.”

I shake my head, half disgusted by the way this conversation has turned and half amused. Along with Lindsay’s exterior transformation, an attitude has emerged, a kind of take-no-shit vibe that most of the time grates on my nerves. Like smoking her e-cig in our apartment when it’s a clear violation of dorm rules.

The trouble is, she doesn’t always understand that actions have consequences, and my guts tells me that sleeping with Holden would create all kinds of problems for me—including a broken heart.

But damn if I’m not tempted.

“I’m kidding about the pain,” Lindsay says. “Mostly. But in all seriousness, you’ve been alone for so long. I worry. This might be just what you need.”

I exhale a breath and shake my head. “No. It just doesn’t feel…” What? I think back to Holden’s smoldering gaze, the slight twitch of his lips as he basically asked me to prostitute myself for a damn interview. No matter how desperate I am to learn more about my father and what really happened on that tragic day, I’ll find another way. One that isn’t demoralizing.

One that won’t make me sick to look at myself in the mirror the next morning.

“Doesn’t feel what, Chels?” Lindsay says, piercing me with her inquisitive eyes.

“Like me.” I stand, flinging my purse over my shoulder. “It’s not something I would ever do.”

I feel Lindsay’s eyes on my back as I make my way toward my cramped bedroom. “So, what now?” she asks.

She’s talking about the assignment, but my heart hurts thinking about the opportunity I’ve lost to get the answers I’m looking for.

“Now?” I glance over my shoulder and attempt a sincere grin. “I study. I’ve got a wicked exam tomorrow.”