Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I’m gonna puke!” I call out in a Southern accent.
“Gross!” someone shouts as I make myself gag. People jerk away, some muttering and pushing closer to the podium to put distance between us.
Headpiece Barbie looks at us and frowns as the Kappa Sig gets a frustrated look on his face and pushes his ID at her.
She tightens her lips and looks down at the long line of people waiting to get in. I feel her gaze on us and push forward, dragging Pen and Margo with me as I mumble, “Move it, girls. Don’t give her time to say no.”
“Just come back when you’re done, and let me check your ID! I’m keeping a tally so we don’t break fire code,” she calls as we make our way down a hallway and then come to a stop a few feet away and out of her sight.
I straighten up and laugh, fixing my hair. “Works every time. It’s like telling a guy you got your period.”
We chuckle as we leave the hallway and walk through the crowded den. Masked people roam everywhere, wall-to-wall students. God. I needed this night out. It’s been three days since the talk with Blaze at the library, yet I can’t get his words out of my head.
Pfft. He said I have walls up, but his are bigger than I ever imagined.
Forget him.
“Let’s check out the bar,” I say, and we brush past co-eds, loud music drifting up to our ears from their party room in the basement. They have a DJ. Margo won’t be happy.
I chance a look, and she’s scowling behind her mask, her eyes bouncing over the black balloons and streamers, the banner on the wall displaying their Greek letters. She curses, her hands clenched.
“Madame President, let it go! Alcohol!” I say with my fist raised. “Let it be so!”
“Fine!” Margo blazes a path for us until we reach the makeshift bar set up on a granite-top island in the spacious kitchen. Shiiiit. They’ve redone their house, and the space is airy and bright with sparkling stainless steel appliances and pretty white cabinets.
The bartender, a handsome fellow in a Theta shirt—boyfriend to some collegian, I assume—leans in.
“I need to see your bands if you want a drink.”
Margo pouts. “We lost them.”
“True story,” Penelope adds. “Some girl grabbed all three when we were in the restroom. You know how those underage kids are.” She makes a tsking noise and shakes her head.
“Uh-huh.” He arches a brow. “Move along now. Go back and get some new ones.”
I push them aside and look up at him. I know him from one of my design classes, Theo something.
“Look, Theo, we have an upper level design class together with Mrs. Owens. She’s a real ballbuster, right? I still haven’t done that website design she wants us to do.” I give him a big smile, my red lips curving up. Tonight the color is Red Hot. “Please, have some sympathy for us. Besides, it was nerdy Chi-Os who stole our bracelets. They’re probably drinking all your good alcohol right now. Bitches.”
Margo elbows me.
He grins. “I ain’t got a thing against Chi-Os. Sorry, can’t serve you.”
I lean down farther until my cleavage is more visible. “Sure, but come on, you know me. I’m of age. You even got an A on that last font project. Sharp and original. I dig your use of bold color. I want to be like you.”
He cocks his head. “Yeah, that was a good one.”
“Spectacular! Give us some drinks…please.” I smile.
His gaze brushes over my face and lingers on my breasts before coming back up. “Ah, I don’t know. You’re pretty, though. Wish I could.”
“Aw, you think I’m pretty? You’re so sweet. Who’s your girlfriend?” Cause we both know you’ve got one, buddy. I keep my smile on. I’ve played this game before—show cleavage, flirt, get what you want.
He mumbles her name, but I don’t know it.
“I know her! I’m going to tell her how awesome you are—and that you said I was pretty, maybe how you looked at my tits.”
His face reddens.
I smile. “Don’t be mad. Now, how about those drinks?”
“Uh, sure, I guess it’s okay. What do you want?”
“You’re the best, Theo,” I say brightly as I shove a few dollars in his tip jar. Drinks are free, but I feel bad about manipulating him. Sometimes a girl just has to do what it takes.
We all three ask for two tequilas each and then shoot one back. I wince. Not top shelf, but it gets the job done.
“Beer, please,” comes a deep voice behind me, and I pause mid-sip on the second one. I’d know him anywhere, that husky gold and gray sound and the heat from his skin. He’s close, just inches away.
Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.
It’s been a tense week after our study session. I won’t be making that mistake again.