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The Impact of You
Kendall Ryan
From the NEW YORK TIMES bestselling author of FILTHY BEAUTIFUL LIESNeeding an escape from her past, Avery chooses a college where no one knows her. Keeping a low profile was the plan, falling for the intense frat boy, Jase wasn’t. Yet she can’t deny how alive she feels when he’s near. Even as common sense implores her to stay away, her body begs her to get closer.Jase, numb from his own family drama, has grown bored with weekends fueled by nameless girls and countless bottles when he meets Avery. Helping her cope with her past is better than dealing with the bullshit his own life’s served up. Determined to drive away the painful secret she’s guarding, he appoints himself her life coach – getting close to her and being the one to make her smile are simply perks of the job.But when Avery’s past boldly saunters in, refusing to be forgotten, can Jase live with the truth about the girl he’s fallen for?
The Impact of You
BY KENDALL RYAN
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published by Kendall Ryan Books 2013
First published in Great Britain by Harper 2015
Copyright © Kendall Ryan 2013
Cover photograph © Tom Merton / Gallery Stock
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Kendall Ryan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9781489519108
Ebook Edition © April 2015 ISBN: 9780008134075
Version 2015-04-13
To girls everywhere who have made mistakes.
Forgive yourself.
Then let it go.
Contents
Cover (#u42202ceb-88d4-5b89-b55a-99058fbd5d3d)
Title Page (#u0c2cfdcf-c36f-5709-9412-1bd685d8e140)
Copyright (#uc8e4d6d6-510f-5eeb-94bc-6ed68c72612b)
Dedication (#u8558c5de-b784-5303-8594-4e62ece42d17)
Chapter 1 (#u378aeeb1-de79-5af2-be2d-fa0295ab868c)
Chapter 2 (#uddc2968c-9da6-5108-ba6c-87ff9c569285)
Chapter 3 (#u3edbc80f-d3e2-5a62-819c-e8a4d2d83c68)
Chapter 4 (#u19633f2f-1df4-5598-b68a-272a194f71c1)
Chapter 5 (#uaf4c34d9-70ee-52f0-975c-567ed4fa578e)
Chapter 6 (#u65ae5611-af1e-572a-9d59-ca257bd3ed91)
Chapter 7 (#ufe38975d-e889-5704-95b2-57800c2e7eb1)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Read More From Kendall Ryan (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Tell Me Your Favourite Part (#litres_trial_promo)
Connect With Kendall Ryan: (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Kendall Ryan (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u5bf33c33-24e7-536d-bf4e-70d6be15e57a)
Avery
Thirty minutes into my first college party, and I’m ready to smack someone in the face with a shovel. My first problem is that I’m wearing the most ridiculous shade of pink. Madison’s doing, of course. Tugging at the hem of my hideous shirt, I plaster a fake smile on my face and try to act as if I own this new look.
Compared to Madison in her tight jeans, low-cut black top, and sexy three-inch heels, I look cute in my pink outfit. And I hate that word. Cute is what you use to describe a teddy bear or a three-year-old, and it only demonstrates that I don’t belong at this frat party filled with gorgeous half-dressed girls grinding on the dance floor. Fuck my life.
Sighing, I push a chunk of hair behind my shoulder and take another sip of the now warm beer in my hand. Madison thrusts her arm around my waist, bumping her hip against mine in time with the music. I smile at her attempt.
‘Need more to drink?’ she asks above hip-hop music so loud I can feel the beat vibrating in my chest.
I look into my still full red plastic cup. ‘I’m good.’ I hate the taste of beer, but manage to take another sip. Tonight is all about blending in. And something tells me being the stone-sober girl with a perma-frown etched into her face isn’t the way to do it.
Madison and Noah are convinced this will be my year. They have grand visions of me loose and carefree, thriving in the college social scene despite the contrary evidence I’d presented them as a freshman last year. When they’d dressed me in this pink top earlier – which Noah claimed was actually rosy coral – they’d declared me a ripe peach, ready for the picking. I’d barely kept the scowl off my face at the euphemism.
‘Mancandy, two o’clock,’ Madison announces over the music.
I take my time, subtly turning in the direction she indicates. A group of three guys stands talking near the DJ and, honestly, they’re all cute. Either that or my mind won’t let me distinguish individual features since my body has no plans of getting involved with anyone. Ever.
‘Which one?’ I ask, playing along with Madison so I don’t disappoint her yet again. I know I make a terrible wing-woman. Noah fills the role a heck of a lot better than me. A fact he’s super proud of.
Madison glances at the group of preppy college boys. ‘The pretty one.’
Pretty?
Noah steals a glance at the group of guys too. ‘Damn, that boy is fucking delish.’ He shakes his head.
‘Major player, though.’ Madison rolls her eyes.
‘The pretty ones always are,’ Noah adds.
I can’t resist looking again for this so-called pretty boy, and when I do, icy blue eyes meet mine and he zeroes in on me with a smirk. His lingering gaze rakes boldly over my body, and I feel the nervous lurch of my stomach. The sights and sounds of the room fade away. Yeah, he’s pretty. That’s the only way to describe him. He’s roughly six-feet tall and lean, but with a hint of muscle. His hair is a warm mix of brown and blond, and his eyes are such a striking blue, it shouldn’t have been possible without colored contact lenses. Not to mention the ridiculously long eyelashes that I’d happily murder him for in his sleep.
A warm tingle creeps up my chest. It’s a decidedly unwelcome feeling and I swallow a large gulp of beer hoping to extinguish whatever the hell that sensation was. I want to look away, but I can’t. He has on dark jeans that fit his lean frame perfectly – slouching a bit on his hips but held in place by a worn leather belt. His T-shirt is plain and navy blue. I like that he isn’t overdressed for this thing, like some of the other gel-haired, button-up-shirt-wearing guys circling us. His hair is unruly and rumpled like he’d been in a fight with his comb. I have the urge to brush the strands out of his face. Or use it to tug him in to kiss me. Where did that thought come from?
Pretty Boy’s eyes stay locked on mine. One corner of his full mouth pulls upward. Crap. He caught me staring. I can feel my fake smile wavering. As my cheeks heat up, I look down at my feet that are squeezed into Madison’s heels. He has to know how gorgeous he is. Guys like him always do. And he is firmly in male-model territory, so he can’t fault me for looking.
‘C’mon, Avery, dance with us. You’re being a downer,’ Madison whines. When I blow her off a second time, she gives up and drags Noah to the center of the living room. She sways and grinds to the beat, obviously hoping Pretty Boy will notice. They gesture for me to join them, but as much as I love them both, this is so not my scene. Noah and Madison are both theater majors, so to say they are dramatic is an understatement. Sometimes I wonder if I cling to them because their flamboyant personalities mask my non-existent one. I watch them shimmy and shake for a few minutes before sneaking another glance at Pretty Boy in the corner.
He’s still watching me, so I give him my best attempt at a smile. I’m pretty good at hiding that I’m wounded, that my life blew up in a spectacular scandal my senior year, and that I still walk around fearful what happened that night will be uncovered. I hold the I-could-care-less-smile in place. I’m just a regular college sophomore in a hideous pink shirt. Move along folks. Nothing to see here.
My cheeks still burn and my heart pounds in time with the music. It’s too damn hot in here. Too hot to be wearing jeans and a three-quarter sleeve top. Pushing a damp tendril of hair from my face, I pull a breath into my lungs. It only confirms what my body already knows. Even with the show going on in front of him, Pretty Boy is still closely watching me.
The way his eyes lock on mine from across the room holds the promise of something much more intimate than two random partygoers. His deep blue gaze penetrates me and eats away at the calm, cool demeanor I fight to maintain. He looks at me like he knows me all too well, like he sees I’m an imposter. Maybe it’s because he’s hiding something too. His friends laugh around him while he looks on, bored and unimpressed. I snap my gaze away.
Guys like him bug me for numerous reasons. I hate his overconfidence and the way he’s completely ignoring the girl grinding up on him. Like he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to anyone he deems unworthy of his affections. Cocky bastard. If he doesn’t want her he should send her on her way, put her out of her misery. Blond bimbo or not, she’s still a person.
Watching the poor girl conjures up memories I can’t deal with. I hate that I was once that girl. Pretty Boy continues to rake his gaze over every inch of me. Well, if this jerk thinks I’m an easy conquest, he’s sadly mistaken. Lifting my chin, I avert my gaze and force my smile to remain in place. I throw a glance at Madison and Noah who are full-on impersonating Lady Gaga at this point, and deciding my friends won’t miss me, I make my way through the crowd toward the back door. And freedom.
Chapter 2 (#u5bf33c33-24e7-536d-bf4e-70d6be15e57a)
Jase
The blond skims her nails over my chest and lowers herself down until her face is level with my groin. She bites her bottom lip and blinks up at me seductively. Too bad this is doing absolutely fucking nothing for me. I attempt a smile, but my face feels tight and unnatural. I grip her arms and haul her up, bending to whisper near her ear. ‘Sorry, baby. Not tonight.’ Disappointment crosses her features, but she nods, and walks away.
A year ago this would have been my favorite way to spend a Saturday night. Girls? Check. Drinking? Check. Raging party with my friends? Double Check. Not so much anymore. I don’t miss drinking too much and waking up next to someone I can’t remember.
But the main reason this holds no appeal? I was plastered the night I got the call from my dad last semester. I had to wait until morning before attempting the three-hour drive home to see my mom, all pale and gray in that hospital bed. After spending a tortured night, shattered without any way to fix it, drinking becomes a far less important priority.
My best friend Trey leans over. ‘Damn man, you don’t even have to try. It’s like you set off some radar that attracts them. Come. Fuck. Me,’ he says in a robotic voice.
I shove his shoulder. ‘Shut up, you know it’s not my fault.’
‘No, the superior genetics bred into you by the Congressman and the MILF ensure you get ass easily and often.’ He shakes his head. ‘Fucking lucky bastard.’
