He around the dorm. “Your room looks nice.”
“No small talk.” I laughed. “My room looks exactly how it’s supposed to, clean and approachable. I am an RA you know.”
“Yes, and I’m the queen,” David said dryly.
“Right.” I grabbed my keys and phone. “We’re going to a party tonight.”
“We?” His eyebrows lifted.
“Yes, we. You, James, and myself. I need to meet the rest of the students in my dorm and I can’t do that if I hole up in my room like some sick—” The words died in my throat. I bit down on my lower lip and allowed the dizziness to pass again. “I’m going to go work out.”
“Should you be—”
“It’s all I have,” I snapped again. “I’m not quitting football too, David. Write it down in your little notepad and tell that to my dad. My career is football. I’m too damn good to give it up. The only reason I stayed in college this long was to make everyone happy, but now that—” Again the words faded out. I didn’t want to finish the sentence, instead, I shook my head at David.
He seemed to understand. With a jerky nod, he followed me out of the room and into the elevator. I needed to sweat off the stress of the day, but mainly I needed to stop thinking about the girl with the pretty eyes and even prettier hair. It was long, almost to her waist, but so freaking thick that I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to thread my fingers through it.
She was the first girl I’d let touch me since Lorelei. Not that I’d actually let her touch me, more like she plowed into me. Nonetheless, I hadn’t flinched. Instead, I’d wanted more.
Clearly I’d wanted more, since I’d all but stalked her for the past few hours. Probably not the way to go about things.
The elevator doors opened with a ding. David and I walked out, and people stared, like really stared. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I wasn’t. I hated it. People always wanted something from me. Funny, because I’d give my left arm to be any one of them. I’d gladly take the place of the guy picking his nose by the front door, or even the chick with glasses and buck teeth. I’d trade spots and run in the opposite direction. Not because I hated my life — nope, it was the exact opposite. I loved life.
The doors to the dorm opened.
A few girls held up cell phones, most likely to take pictures. I sighed. Freshman.
I gave a little wave and continued walking, just as James walked up by David and took my left side.
A few more girls giggled as they crossed paths with me. One appeared to faint.
This was my life.
Chapter Six
Into the fire — or maybe it’s out of the fire and into… wait, I don’t remember. Hell?
Kiersten
“You ready?” Lisa wiped some lip gloss from her mouth and checked herself out in the mirror. “Because I know I am.”
I laughed. “Yes, you are.” She had on a miniskirt, heels, and a short shirt. I’d never be caught dead wearing something like that. Uncle Jo would kill me. I would want to kill me. I mean, that’s how girls got into trouble.
“Okay.” She turned, a scowl on her face. “You can’t wear that.”
“What?” I looked down at my straight-leg jeans and boots, I had a white T-shirt on and my hair in a ponytail.
“It’s a party.”
“I know.” I shrugged. “I’m wearing clothes.”
“Yes.” Lisa’s tone was far from encouraging. “But you’re also not a nun, and right now you look like you’re homeschool.”
Homeschool? All the kids I knew that were homeschool were completely normal, crap I’d begged my uncle to homeschool me after everything. I looked down at my clothes and shrugged.
A heavy pounding assaulted the door and then Gabe burst through. “Damn, cousin, you aiming to get laid tonight?”
She smiled.
Gabe’s eyes fell to me. “And you’re dressed like a first grade teacher. Why?”
“Very funny.”
“Wasn’t kidding.” He mock-choked as his eyebrows danced suggestively.
With a sigh I turned back to Lisa. “This is the type of thing I wear. I don’t wear short skirts and belly tops and—”
“See, the very fact that you called this,” she pointed at her shirt, “A belly top, tells me one thing.”
“What?”
“You need help.”
Gabe nodded his agreement.
“Guys, I’m not Cinderella.”
Smirking, Gabe leaned in and murmured, “Drop your shoe, I dare you.”
“Ohhh, he wants to pick up your shoe.” Lisa joked.
“It’s a boot,” I clarified, lifting my foot to show off the shiny black leather.
“Either or.” Gabe gave a flirty shrug. “And clothes or no clothes, you’re still hot, but if I were you, and I had Weston–freaking-Michels panting after me, I’d make him work for it.”
“I, uh…” Playing with my long ponytail, I looked in the mirror. They were right. I looked Amish. I used to be into fashion, but lately things just seemed semi-pointless. At least I was eating and showering — not that Gabe and Lisa needed to know that. It was a giant feat for me to be able to take care of myself.
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes “I’ll wear a different shirt, but that’s where I draw the line.”
Lisa grinned and clapped her hands. “Deal!”
Ten minutes later and I was really doubting my ability to appear normal. The shirt she’d given me didn’t meet the top of my jeans. In fact, there was a good two inches of skin showing. I’d tried to hunch over but then Gabe started calling me Quasimodo, which made me second-guess the whole humpback look.
The party was being held at the main lobby. Things couldn’t get that out of hand, right? I mean, it was a school-sanctioned party. It wasn’t as if they’d have drugs and alcohol or anything.
Uncle Jo had warned me about mixing alcohol with my prescription. Apparently it made people get drunk like twice as fast. Meaning, if I took one drink I’d be dancing around the lobby with a lampshade on my head. Well, at least I wouldn’t be self-conscious about my short shirt anymore.
The minute we walked into the lobby, people stared. It wasn’t the type of stare you got when you had food in your teeth, more like, a curious stare. Maybe it was Gabe. I stood closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around me and Lisa.
“This happens a lot with Gabe.” Lisa laughed and landed a mock-punch to his biceps. “People can’t figure out if he’s hot or just deranged.”
“Thanks, Lisa.” Gabe’s eyes narrowed in her direction then he whispered in my ear, “But for the record, I’m just hot.”
“Of course you are,” I said patronizingly.
He threw his head back and laughed. I didn’t think I could ever be attracted to him, but something about him seemed comfortable, like if I asked him to drive me the four hours home to Bickelton in the middle of the night, he’d say okay and buy me coffee while he was at it. I’d never really had a friend like that before. It was nice.
“So…” Lisa’s gaze scanned the crowd. “Where is he?”
“Your mystery man for the night?” Gabe asked as he walked over to the punch and got us each a cup.
“No.” Lisa’s eyes continued to dart around the room. “Weston. Where is he? He’s the RA, so he has to be here—”
“Do I?” a smooth voice said from behind us. “See, I thought I just had to make an appearance. I didn’t think anyone would actually be searching me out.”
Other than the music pounding through the sound system, it was quiet. I could tell people were trying to hear what he was saying as they edged toward our little group.
He all but ignored Lisa and Gabe. His eyes focused only on mine. “You came.”
“I was forced.”
“Coerced.” Lisa rolled her eyes.
Gabe watched the exchange with open amusement.
Weston was still staring.
&nb
sp; Apparently having enough of the awkwardness, Gabe moved me to the side and held out his hand to Weston. “We think she’s homeschool, it’s why she doesn’t talk.” He pointed back to me. I could feel my face heat to five hundred degrees. “But she’s cute as hell so we keep her around. This one is my cousin.” He pointed to Lisa. “And I’m pretty sure you and I had a KI class together.”
Weston’s eyes left mine and landed on Gabe. Nodding, he shook his hand firmly. “Yeah, I think it was archery.”
“Best class ever.” Gabe sighed.
“Ah, now I remember.” Weston laughed. “You’re the guy who shot the professor in the ass with the arrow.”
“She turned me down.” Gabe shrugged.
“Sexual harassment.” Lisa fake-coughed.
Waving her off, Gabe continued talking. “How’s practice going?”
“He’s talking football,” Lisa whispered. “Shh, it’s like watching a baby turtle trying to find the ocean. He’s either going to get eaten because he knows shit about sports, or he’s going to swim free into the ocean and discover he’s a real boy.”
“It’s good.” Weston ignored us. “You know how practice is, brutal. But it’s going to be a good season.”
“You think you’ll get a bowl this year?” Gabe asked, sounding genuinely interested.
“Good Lord the turtle made it!” Lisa whispered in my ear.
“Yeah.” Weston’s eyes flickered to mine before he nodded at Gabe. “Coach is hoping for the championship. After the loss last year to Oregon, we kind of want to redeem ourselves.”
“Tell me about it.” Gabe sighed. “I hate the Ducks.”
“Green and yellow, green and yellow,” Lisa sang behind him.
“I will think nothing about punching you in the face if you sing that again.” Gabe swore.
Lisa grinned. “Well, my work here is done. I just saw one of the guys I met at registration. He walked in, our eyes met. Now I’m going to meet him in the middle of the dance floor.”
When she left, Gabe murmured, “She likes to narrate her own life.”
“Cool.” I laughed. “She needs her own soundtrack.”
“Don’t tell her that.” Gabe shook his head. “I wouldn’t put it past her to start singing rather than talking. And I’m already losing IQ points by hanging out with her.”
The conversation slid into a lull. Weston was still staring. Gabe’s grin grew wider by the minute. Finally, he mumbled something about spiking the punch and walked off. Which really just meant that Weston was the worst RA in the history of RA’s. Especially if he was okay with Gabe spiking things.
“Let’s take a walk.” He offered his arm.
I paused, staring at the outstretched arm and then back at his eyes. “I don’t know if I should.”
“I didn’t do it.” He swallowed, his eyes closing for a brief second before meeting mine again. “The rape? I’m sure you’ve heard about it by now. You can trust me. In fact, I’ll even let you have one of the rape whistles.”
“You carry them?” My eyes widened.
“Hey, guys get raped too.” His smile fell, and then he reached into his pocket and handed me a whistle. “Don’t forget the most important part about owning one of these babies.”
“What?” I took the red whistle in my hands and examined it.
Weston’s breath fanned my face. “Blow.”
“Huh?” Okay, I was going to pass out. His lips were inches from mine.
“You have to blow…” His full lips expanded into a bold grin. “The whistle. You know, in order to get help.”
“Oh,” I said, breathless. “Right.”
He led me out of the lobby. I was lucky to be walking in straight lines after that little exchange. I had no idea why I’d captured his attention, but I still had that sinking feeling in the back of my mind that it wasn’t a good thing. Being his friend would never work and being more scared me half to death.
Chapter Seven
Note to self, when a girl’s smile makes you forget your own name — you’re in some deep shit.
Weston
“This way.” I grabbed her hand and led her down the street. “So, tell me about yourself, Kiersten.” Lame. My first question was so unoriginal I wanted to punch myself. That was what freshman orientation did to a person.
“I’m eighteen.”
“No, I didn’t—” I turned and found myself under the full force of her green eyes penetrating mine. “That is, yes, I’m glad you’re over eighteen, I don’t want to get in trouble for holding your hand or anything.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t strike me as the type of guy who just holds hands.”
“You’re right.” I exhaled. “But I’m a fan of hands, or maybe it’s just yours, Lamb.” It was true. I liked her hands. Everything about her screamed innocence. I almost felt bad for corrupting her, for wanting her. Almost being the key word.
“And there’s the nickname.”
”There it is,” I agreed, then squeezed her hand more. We walked across the lawn and down to the sidewalk in silence. As we passed a few cars, the silence stretched out even further, then finally, beneath the second street lamp, she stopped, tugging her hand back.
“Look…” She shifted nervously from foot to foot, her innocent eyes darted from the ground to my face. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here. I appreciate your help and stuff today, but…”
Amused, I raised my eyebrows. “But?”
“I’m not like that,” she whispered.
“Like what?”
“That.” Her cheeks were stained pink. “I don’t hook up with guys.”
“Oh, that.” I grinned at her embarrassment. “I don’t either.”
“Huh?”
“Hook up with guys. I’m not like that. So now that we’ve had that particular conversation, we can be friends.” I reached for her hand again.
“I, uh—” She wasn’t able to finish her sentence, because one of my teammates had the worst timing in the universe and just happened to drive by.
“Michels!” he shouted out his window. “Party at Kappa tonight!” He honked his horn and peeled out.
“Friends?” she asked.
“Worse.” I chuckled. “Teammates.” I stopped walking and touched her arm lightly. “You want to go to a different party?”
“I should probably get back—”
“Come.” I pulled her closer to me. “Just for a few minutes. I’ll introduce you to some upperclassmen, get you some milk, and have you tucked into your bed safely by midnight.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Fine, I’ll have you tucked in alone. As in, without me.”
Kiersten looked down the street. “Fine. Thirty minutes and don’t think I won’t use the rape whistle!”
“Please,” I whispered. “Then when you return it I’ll know exactly what it feels to have your lips blowing across mine.”
She flinched. “You can’t say things like that to me.”
“Why?” I tilted her chin toward my face. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Fine.” I sighed.“I’ll just think them and look longingly in your direction every few minutes, sound good?”
She laughed. “Whatever makes you happy.”
“Whistles.” I nodded. “And redheads.” I reached for her hand again. “Virgins.” Interesting, her blush deepened as her hand clenched mine tighter. I was good at reading people and I’d bet my entire fortune she’d never even been kissed. It was why it made her uncomfortable. “Virgin lamb…” I sighed. “I may just sacrifice you on the altar.”
“I’d rather not be sacrificed.”
“You never know.” I gave her a cocky grin, “You may like it.”
“You never know.” She sighed dreamily. “I may stab you.”
“Fair.” I chuckled. “Now, let’s go. People to see, milk to drink, freshmen to corrupt.”
r /> Chapter Eight
Things are never as they seem — ever.
Kiersten
I’d never been to a frat house. My only experience in even knowing what they looked like could be traced to the movies. You know, guys partying, people drinking, cups littering the lawn.
What I didn’t expect was actual order.
The music was loud, but the spread was insane.
Alcohol was everywhere, food was everywhere, people were dressed like movie stars, and every single guy looked like he’d just stepped from a magazine.
“Guys,” Weston put his hands on my shoulders and urged me forward, “This is Kiersten.”
“Hey,” a few of them mumbled in greeting and smiled. They didn’t look like your typical jocks. In fact, most of them were sipping their drinks and discussing football, while the girls around them were happily chatting about classes.
“Oh…” Weston tugged my hand. “And those guys over there who just walked in…” He pointed in the direction of two pretty big guys. One had black-rimmed glasses and a goatee, the other was at least six-foot-seven and lanky. Both appeared to be in their mid-thirties. “They work for me. Or my dad. However you look at it. You have any issues? Anyone bothers you here? You run towards them with the whistle, got it?”
“Uh, sure, but why would anyone bother me?”
Someone chuckled behind me. “Fresh meat.”
“Need I say more?” Weston groaned. “Meet Drake.”
“Hi, Drake.” I swallowed, trying really hard to not meet his predatory gaze. He had dark brown eyes and sandy blond hair.
He nodded. “‘Sup.”
And that was the end of the conversation.
Weston introduced me to tons of people, none of whom really cared who or what I was. Mainly they were polite, but that was it. After a few more introductions, he took me into the kitchen. “Lets’ get you a drink.”