How to Reprimand Your Rock Star (DommeNation #2) by Mina Vaughn

pulled out my phone and prayed the plan would work.
    We drove in silence, and I knew both our minds were going completely haywire over what the consequences could be. Benched for the second game? Put on probation? Suspended? Scholarship revoked? That may be a little melodramatic, but I was still worried. There were lots of possibilities and they all sucked. This plan had to work. We could have taken the easy road and gone back to campus with a worse story, but truthfully I wanted to be home for a while. See my family, feel comfort. The kiss I shared with Keaton was amazing, but once I had to leave, his crazy life resumed. How could I ever keep up with that or compete with it?
    Soon we were pulling up to my house, and through the window I could see a confused and alarmed mother and grandmother in the window.
    “Shit,” I muttered. “We didn’t even come up with an excuse for them!”
    “Damn. Wait, how about we both ate some bad cafeteria food and needed some healing soup and a night in a comfy bed?”
    I blinked. “You can be smart sometimes.”
    “I’m not just a pretty face,” she retorted, and we exited the car and headed inside, clutching our stomachs emphatically.
    My mom’s face was always creased with worry, but tonight the lines seemed deeper. “Thea, you know we’re happy to see you, but I thought you said you weren’t going to be making trips home during basketball season.” Her Greek accent had faded over the years, but when faced with stress, it strengthened. Tonight she sounded right off the boat.
    Yaya just grabbed my head and kissed it.
    I explained the story, and they bought it easily. Mothers want to mother, it seems. The idea of her daughter coming home for comfort and food delighted both Mom and Yaya and soon we were being served bowls of the steamy lemony soup.
    “Let’s take some pictures!” Callie said, giggling with my mom. They had only met a few times, but my mother loved my roommate and was thrilled that someone she trusted was with her daughter. Mom believed that she was an instant judge of character, which was great in some instances, but not so much in others. Boys, for example.
    I put my arm around Yaya and patted her little gray head. She adjusted her glasses and we smiled over the bowl of soup. Click , done. Perfect. Callie pulled me in and we took one together. With a text, Donelle would have her proof.
    My younger brothers, Nicky and Anthony, came out and tried to hide their excitement and be cool kids. It didn’t work. Within minutes, they were bouncing up and down and asking for college stories and dying to hear more about how the tournament would go.
    “First we’re going to North Carolina in two weeks, and then if we win, it’s Florida next. Then the Final Four and the title game would be here at home.”
    My breath hitched. First, because of North Carolina. Another chance to see Keaton. If he wanted to see me, that is. But second . . . Florida. Florida meant Miami. Miami meant sex with Keaton. I pulled the bowl of soup under my chin and pretended it was the steam that was making my face red, and not the thought of Keaton inside me. I shoveled a spoonful into my mouth to keep from drooling. “Good avgolemono, Yaya.”
    She frowned. “It’s better than good.”
    I chuckled.
    We spent the next hour playing Heads Up! on my phone—it’s like charades, but the iPhone records it so you can watch everyone acting like idiots on the recording after the round is over. Soon, Callie and I retired to my room with full stomachs and big smiles.
    “It wasn’t a Roman rock star orgy, but definitely a good night,” she said, hopping into bed.
    I held my finger to my mouth. “Hello, Yaya’s got some serious hearing aids. Don’t be surprised if she storms in here.” I laughed as my head hit the pillow.
    Crisis averted, but who knew what loomed when we went back to school.
    Wes could do something with the picture of me and the cup. Someone could have spotted us leaving