Never Have You Ever (The Love Game Book 1)
Never Have You Ever
The Love Game: Book One
Elizabeth Hayley
This book is a publication of Waterhouse Press.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2020 Waterhouse Press, LLC
Original Cover Design by Wicked by Design
Cover Redesign by Waterhouse Press
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Continue The Love Game Series With Book Two
Also by Elizabeth Hayley
About Elizabeth Hayley
To Robyn, for the constant support and help you provide to us. You’re the best.
Chapter One
S O P H I A
“Carter.”
He didn’t answer, even as I put my hand on his shoulder to shake him. It felt weird to touch him—like I was invading his privacy—even though he was lying on my bed, drooling from the right side of his mouth onto my Vera Bradley comforter. It didn’t get more intimate than that.
“Carter!” I whisper-screamed into his ear, and he jolted. “You gotta get out of here.”
He rubbed a hand down his face, which was somehow still boyishly handsome even though the right side held indentations from where my sheets had bunched under him.
“Sorry, Sophia. I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“It’s fine. I think the other girls are still asleep. It’s early.”
Looking at his watch, he said, “Let’s go back to sleep. I don’t have class for another two hours.” He let his head fall back onto the bed, eyes already closed, his floppy light-brown hair falling over them.
I grabbed his hand and tugged, trying my hardest to pull him off the bed.
“Get up!” I tried one more time with all my strength but was only able to slide his body a few inches. Damn athletes. It was like trying to drag a bag of rocks.
He flashed an impish smile, and I gave him a shove.
“I’m serious. Aamee’s gonna kill me if she sees you here.”
“Screw Aamee.”
“She’d like you to do that, I’m sure,” I said with a chuckle.
“I’m not interested.”
“Don’t tell her that. Don’t tell her anything. Just get out before she sees you.”
Finally, he seemed ready to comply, his long limbs spreading into a morning stretch. He moved around the room—albeit slowly for a wide receiver—packing up his bag with the books we used last night.
“What’s the big deal? We were studying.”
“I know that. Aamee will think differently, though, if she sees you leaving in the morning instead of last night.”
“Aamee, Aamee, Aamee,” he said with a laugh. “She doesn’t even spell her name right. Who cares what she thinks?”
I tried my best to convey the severity of the situation through my expression, but Carter Blaine wasn’t known for taking much of anything seriously other than football and Bud Light.
“I do. She’s the sorority president.”
“It’s not like she can kick you out for having a guy spend the night. Coed sleepovers are like…one of the foundations of Greek life.”
“They’re really not,” I said dryly.
I opened my door a crack, listened for footsteps, chatter, or the sound of the water running in the bathroom. When I didn’t hear anything, I grabbed his hand again and ushered him toward the hallway.
We were halfway down the stairs when Aamee walked from the kitchen to the front door and spun to face us, her dark-green eyes narrowing and her blond hair whipping around. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
I looked to Carter, his bright-blue eyes widening as he looked from me to Aamee and back again. “Sorry.”
“For what exactly?” Aamee asked.
“For…coming over so early. When I left last night, I thought I understood all that psychology stuff. Then I got home and realized I’d forgotten most of it. So I came back over here super early. I didn’t mean to wake anyone up, but we have a test today—”
“Bullshit.” Aamee crossed her arms.
“We do. You wanna see the syllabus?” Bless Carter’s heart for trying. He was already going into his phone to log in to the course.
All she said to him was “Don’t bother” before turning to address me. “I’ll talk to you after Carter leaves.”
I tried to disguise the heavy sigh, but my defeat was evident. And to further cement my spot at the top of Aamee Allen’s Shit List—a real list she kept on her phone—Carter gave me a kiss on the forehead and said, “Thanks for last night.”
I’d done my best to avoid Aamee for the remainder of the morning, and thankfully, when I’d returned from class this afternoon, only a few of the other girls were in the house.
I was Aamee-free until she got home from work around five p.m. I’d expected her to be thrumming with excitement as she prepared herself to dole out my consequence, but instead she said she was going to take time to think about it. I had a feeling that had more to do with her wanting to cause me anxiety than it did her need to give it any serious thought, but I was happy not to speak to her all the same.
I was lying on my bed with my headphones on when my roommate, Gina, came in and sat down on her bed. “I heard about what happened this morning with Carter.”
“Well, with how news travels in this house, I’m not really surprised,” I said with a laugh.
“Right.” She took a brush from her bedside table and began running it through her long dark hair. “Well, Aamee’s a bitch.”
“Obviously.”
“She’s worse with this stuff when it comes to guys, and she’s liked Carter for four years, since they were freshmen. I bet it’ll all blow over once she moves on to whatever or whoever she has an issue with next. Just give it a little time.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “I’m not so sure. She told me she was going to think about my consequence and she’d let me know what kind of trouble I’m in later tonight.”
“Ugh.” Gina lay back against her pillows and stared up blankly, like she was trying to make out the solution to my problem in the popcorn ceiling. “I wish she’d calm down with this shit. She’s not making any friends by pointing out every little thing all of us do wrong.”
“She still has her groupies.” I shru
gged.
“Ew, don’t call them that. She’s not Justin Bieber.”
At least Gina always had a way of making me laugh, even if I might not be laughing later when Aamee dished out my punishment like a crotchety grandmother serving someone’s second helping of dinner. She really wouldn’t give a fuck whether I wanted it or not.
“I gotta admit,” I said, “I’m actually a little scared. Aamee is no doubt going to make me pay for this.”
“Maybe she’s gonna make you walk naked through the streets while we all point at you and yell, ‘Shame,’ like you’re Cersei Lannister from Game of Thrones.”
I laughed again. “I think I might actually prefer that to what Aamee probably has in store for me.”
Gina looked over at me, her expression serious for the first time since she’d entered our room. “Seriously though, what’s the worst that can happen?”
“Sophia Mason, you are here in the presence of your sisters to atone for your sins.”
“I think ‘sins’ is a little extreme, Aamee,” someone said.
It might have been Gina, but I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t see anything in the dark room except the blinding flashlight of Aamee’s iPhone shining in my face.
“Shut up, Gina,” someone confirmed.
Aamee got closer to me, bringing the light with her. It was like I was heading toward my inevitable death, but instead of feeling a peaceful calm as I sat surrounded by loved ones, I was battling a power-hungry college senior who was permanently PMSing.
I moved back and turned my head to the side so the light wasn’t directly in my eyes. “Can we turn that thing off and have a normal conversation about this, please?”
There was silence for a few moments until the light shut off and a lamp turned on instead. “Fine,” Aamee said, “but the process is still the same.”
Some of the girls were looking at their nails in between eye rolls, seemingly siding with me on the ridiculousness of this. Others were nodding as Aamee spoke, though I wasn’t sure if it was because they agreed with her or were just too scared not to.
“Can we just get this over with?” I asked.
I knew Aamee was pissed about Carter, but after my conversation with Gina, I’d let myself get my hopes up that my punishment began and ended with her silence toward me over the past two days. It was a consequence I was happy to accept since it was more of a reward than a punishment.
Aamee flipped her blond hair behind her shoulder and pursed her red lips together. They were so plump, I’d once asked if she’d done “whatever Kylie Jenner had done.” I’d quickly identified that question as a mistake, but it was too late to take it back. And thus began her hatred of me.
That night she’d announced the addition of my name to her Shit List, and I’d only moved up in rank since then by doing little things like using her toothpaste or disconnecting her phone from a charger so I could charge my own.
“Then let us begin,” Aamee said. “On the fifteenth of September, you, Sophia Marie Mason—”
“My middle name isn’t Marie.”
“Sophia Elizabeth—”
“Nope.”
“Ann?”
I shook my head.
“Whatever. Like…ninety percent of the female population has one of those. I just guessed.”
“Well, you guessed wrong.”
“Do you plan to tell me what it is?”
I pretended to think for a second. “No, I think I’ll leave you in suspense.”
Aamee composed herself, though she looked like she was ready to explode. Which, after picturing it, I realized would’ve been amazing to watch. Long strands of yellow hair painted red from her blood, her spray-tanned orange skin splattered all over the walls like some sort of abstract painting.
Unfortunately, my Aamee fantasy was interrupted by her voice. “On the fifteenth of September, you, Sophia—”
“You should probably include the year,” Gina said, sounding like she was choking back a laugh. “I mean, if we’re being formal about all this.”
Aamee’s lips looked like they were ready to pop when she pressed them together. “Any other requests?” She looked around the room.
“You do you, sweetie,” Bethany shouted. “You’re doing great.”
“On the fifteenth of September, you, Sophia…Something Mason, were caught harboring a male student in your room during nighttime hours.”
My eyebrows raised. “Harboring? Really? You make him sound like a fugitive.”
“That’s enough of the interruptions. May I continue?”
I gestured with my hand, though I knew I didn’t exactly have a choice.
“According to the Zeta Eta Chi handbook, which our founding sisters created at the induction of this chapter, and I quote, ‘No male shall be permitted to spend more than four consecutive hours in the house, and those hours must not be between dusk and dawn for the sole purpose of preserving the organization’s reputation of integrity, honor, and respect. Any member found to have disobeyed this regulation shall, at the sole request of the chapter president, be evicted from the house immediately.’”
Aamee closed the book and waited for a reaction. I didn’t give her one.
“You’re citing a manual from almost a hundred years ago.”
“The age is irrelevant. What matters is the content. Do you dispute the fact that a male was in your room overnight?”
“No. Do you dispute that one was in yours a few weeks ago?”
Aamee appeared flustered for a moment but regained her composure quickly. “Good thing I’m the president.”
“Way to abuse your power. You’re really going to kick me out of the house for this?”
“Punishment fits the crime if you ask me. If you can’t abide by house rules, you can’t live in the house.”
“Oh, come on. Let’s call it like it is. You’re pointing a finger at me because the ‘male’ who stayed over is someone you have a major crush on. And while a big part of me wants to lie and say I slept with him so I could watch you raze this house like Carrie, the truth is all we did was fall asleep studying. So hop down off your moral high horse before you break your hypocritical neck.”
She was eerily quiet, staring absently for so long it made me wonder if I’d put her into some sort of catatonic trance. It also made me wonder if my points had been valid enough to make her second-guess my punishment, though I doubted it. More likely, it was simply the calm before the storm. A few more seconds passed before Hurricane Aamee spoke.
“My decision stands. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.”
“Any more clichés you’d like to toss out? You’re not going to tell me if I don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all?”
Aamee laughed. “Actually, I don’t care what you have to say one way or the other. I just care that you leave.”
This time it was Emma who came to my defense. “Aamee? You know Sophia’s mom is Kate Macland, right? She was president. We can’t kick Sophia out of the house.”
“Of course I know who her mom is. How do you think she got in?” Aamee fixed her eyes on me. “Besides, it’s not like she’s out of the sorority completely…yet,” she added with more hostility in her tone than had been there previously. “You should probably start packing your bags. You have twenty-four hours to get out.”
“Thanks.” I gave her a sickeningly sweet smile. “But I’ll probably only need a few hours.”
She laughed like I was kidding, but when I got all my stuff into boxes and suitcases with the help of Gina, Emma, and a few other girls who weren’t attached to Aamee’s tit—and left without making a big deal of it—I was certain Aamee’s curiosity about where I’d gone might kill her. Too bad I wouldn’t be there to see it.
I arrived at my brother’s a half hour later with a hastily packed bag of clothes, shoes, toiletries, and various electronic gadgets. I hadn’t called Brody to give him a heads-up, but our dad was paying for the place, so he couldn’t exactly turn me
away at the door.
We’d never been what I’d call close, but maybe we could be now that we were on the same campus and I’d be bunking with him—at least until I figured out how to get back into the sorority house.
Brody, a fifth-year senior, had been attending college halfway across the country—largely to get some space from our parents and me. But now, four and a half years and dozens of lost credits later, he was closer to home and trying to climb out of whatever hole he’d dug himself during his years of partying.
That our father had let him transfer again had been a shock to both of us. I’d thought for sure he’d make Brody throw in the towel and figure his shit out before he burned any more of his money at institutions of higher learning. But when Brody promised that a change of scenery and living by himself would help him focus, our dad agreed to give him one more shot before he pulled the plug on his education. I guess he had more faith in Brody than the rest of us did. Brody included.
It occurred to me, as I shifted my bags at the door of Brody’s apartment situated above a small bakery, that I should’ve at least checked to see if he was even going to be home. For all I knew, I could be spending the next five hours waiting for him to get back from class.
Thankfully someone opened the door when I knocked. Instead of my shit-for-brains brother greeting me, it was a handsome stranger.
Guess my brother had already made some friends. Hot ones.