Page 1 of Hating On Riot

1

Arie

Years from now, when my kids ask what the turning point in my life was that changed its course and blessed me with them, I would say begrudgingly agreeing to play an anonymous dating game for a girl who dabbles in matchmaking for funsies.

“I refuse to give you street cred for this matchmaking game of yours, Hope,” I toss over my shoulder as I speed-walk to my car.

It’s the second week of the first semester of my senior year, and I have so much to do.

“Just hear me out.” Hope hurries after me past the tennis courts and to the back parking lot of Dumas University. She catches up to me at my car. “This game is for a class assignment, separate from my pro bono matchmaking services.”

I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulder and face her. She’s so close, we’re toe-to-toe. I stick out my arm and push her back. “It’s pro bono for a reason. No one’s asked you to do it. You do it for the love of meddling in other people’s business.”

“Please, Arie. If I say you’re in, the others will go along with it too.”

I narrow my eyes. “And who are these others?”

She ticks off the names of high-profile, popular kids on campus.

“Pfft. You’re giving me credit for influence I don’t have.”

“Riot O’Sullivan is your friend, which automatically makes you friends with Xander, Galley, and Ezekiel.”

The dirty trio.

“I am not associating myself with those men-whores.” My big brothers would throw fits of epic proportions.

They’re overprotective to the point of modifying my sneakers and slipping a GPS device into the space between the sole and the heel.

“Fine.” Hope blows at the strand of blonde hair that gets into her eye. “Forget the hottest guys on campus. Give me two weeks of your life.”

“No.” I pull my car keys from my pocket and open the door of my two-decade-old Honda Accord.

“Arie.”

“I am not doing it.” I toss my backpack in the back seat and climb inside my car.

Hope plops into the passenger seat before I can stretch across the center console and lock the door. This girl is persistent.

“But you fit the profile for this match I have in mind perfectly.”

“Fine. You have five minutes. I’m already running late for my next class.”

Her eyebrows tug low. “Class doesn’t start for another half hour.”

“Exactly.” My brothers’ motto is that it’s better to be early than on time. “Five minutes, Hope.”

“Okay, here goes. You spend too much time at the library to be considered healthy, have no life beyond experiencing it vicariously through your friends, and you’ve been grumpy since you and Cooper broke up.” She ticks off each point on her fingers.

“We can’t break up if we were never together,” I point out.

“But you two are always together.”

Is she whining?

“He’s my best friend.” Was my best friend. “Look, Hope, I don’t want to talk about Cooper, okay?” He’s currently on my he-that-shall-not-be-talked-about list, taking a spot below another ex-guy friend of mine.

“Sure.” She reaches inside her backpack. “About my blind DM experiment⁠—”