Bad Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy #1) - Lauren Rowe Page 0,3

best friend a guy could ask for. My rock.”

Emotion unexpectedly rises inside me, constricting my throat. I’ve never had a “best friend” before, let alone a “rock.” But, sitting here now, I feel near-desperation to have both. I take a deep breath and push my emotion down—something I’ve grown accustomed to doing these past ten years. “Henn can come, as long as he’s down to get shitfaced. That’s the price of admission to this particular pity party.”

“I’m down,” Henn says. “Whatever you need, I’m in.”

“That goes double for me,” Josh adds. “Whatever you need, we’re here for you.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell you exactly what I need. Three things. One, to get shitfaced and stoned out of my fucking mind tonight, until the images in my head fade to black. Two, to talk to someone before I pass out who can help me make sense of this fucked-up situation. And three, and this is the biggie: I need to figure out a Plan B.”

“A Plan B? For what?”

I take a deep, steadying breath. “For conquering the world, all by myself.”

Chapter 2

Georgina

Present day

As I walk past swarms of students on my way through campus, I get a call from my stepsister, Alessandra. Well, my former stepsister, technically. As busy as we both are—Alessandra’s majoring in music in Boston while I’m majoring in journalism here at UCLA, plus, we both work part-time jobs—we still manage to talk multiple times per day.

“Are you headed to that career-thing for journalism students now?” Alessandra asks.

I press my phone into my ear to hear my stepsister’s soft voice above the din of campus life around me. “I’m walking there now. But the event isn’t for journalism students. It’s for music students. CeeCee Rafael is the only journalist on the panel.”

“Who are the other panelists?”

“Bigwigs in the music industry, I guess.”

Alessandra gasps, which isn’t a surprise, considering she’s obsessed with music. “Who are the bigwigs?”

“I don’t know. I saw CeeCee’s name and looked no further. Hold on.” I quickly locate the event flyer and text it to Alessandra. “I’m praying I’ll be the only journalism major with the brilliant idea to crash a music school event to get a job.”

“Pure genius.”

“Only if it works.”

I have reason to be skeptical, unfortunately, based on the countless résumés I’ve sent out over the past two months, to no avail. Thankfully, I’ve got my bartending gig to fall back on after graduation next week, and my boss, Bernie, has already said I can pick up additional shifts through the summer. It was a nice offer, and I appreciate it, but if I’m being honest, bartending with my degree in hand would be soul crushing. Plus, working at the bar throughout the summer would be a tough commute if I have to move back to my dad’s house in the Valley after graduation, which I’m planning to do.

“CeeCee won’t care about your grades once she meets you,” Alessandra assures me. “Just come right out and explain why your grades tanked last year. She’s known for being really active with cancer charities. Oh my God! Georgie! I’m looking at the event flyer, and it says—”

Bam.

After turning a corner, I walk smack into the broad chest of the one person I have no desire to see: UCLA football god, Bryce McKellar. I first met Bryce months ago, while waiting in line for coffee on-campus, and sparks instantly flew. He wasn’t just physically gorgeous, but charismatic and cocky, too. Best of all, he had a bit of a dark edge to him. A dick-vibe. Which, unfortunately, is my thing, I’m not proud to say. But since I stupidly thought my relationship with Shawn, the biggest dick of them all, was still intact, I took off after getting my coffee and didn’t stick around to flirt with Bryce.

Of course, once I found out Shawn was a lying, cheating dirt-bag dick, I kept an eye out for Mr. Football, hoping to bump into him again. But, unfortunately, I never did... until a few days ago... which was when, out of the blue, like manna from heaven, I spotted Bryce standing outside Royce Hall, looking even hotter than he had at the coffee place months before. And, to my thrill, when Bryce’s eyes landed on mine, they lit up, every bit as much as they had during our first encounter at the coffee place.

Immediately, Bryce jogged over to me that day on-campus, and we made flirty small talk. “I’ve actually been keeping an eye out for you,” Bryce told me,