Page 14

“They were. At Hawthorne College. Which is where I was planning on going until I changed my mind at the last minute.” I force myself to look into each of their eyes. “I’d heard they’d watered down their recruitment system—pretty much letting anyone in. I knew the Wittmore chapter had higher standards.”

Miller leans forward and presses his palms together. His blue eyes sweep over my face, pressing beneath my skin, triggering every nerve to stand on end. I force myself not to shift or move when his gaze drops to my mouth for a long, uncomfortable beat. Has he recognized me? Figured it out? My heart bangs against my ribcage. “We were accused of a hazing incident last year—almost got kicked off campus. This year we are under tight scrutiny. One false move and we’re done.”

The announcement is a challenge—a test. These guys don’t want to change anything about their initiation process. They want members that will keep their mouths shut. People who respect tradition as much as they do.

“Then I guess Zeta Sig will have to make sure everything is locked tight, right?”

Knox laughs first, a deep rumble in his chest, and Miller relaxes enough to settle back in his chair.

“I’m willing to give you a shot,” Knox says, resting his biceps on the arms of the chair. “But once you walk through these metaphorical doors, you know there’s no going back, right?”

“It doesn’t matter how many letters you have or who you know. If you go through initiation, you’re like every other pledge.” Royer watches me closely. “We don’t play favorites.”

It’s all I’ve ever wanted, just flipped to the male side of things. I want that connection, that created family, the bonds, and secrets that we carry to our grave. I just wanted it with women who shared eyeshadow and shoes. If I can’t have it, then they don’t deserve it either.

“Right,” I reply. “I’m ready for whatever you have to throw at me.”

The three guys share a look and Royer says, “How about this? There’s a party tonight at ten. It’s basically the kick-off to celebrate initiation week. If you get through the night, you can continue on.”

The offer sends a chill down my spine, but he’s right. If I can’t make it through this without being discovered or just not being able to handle it, I should be cut.

“Deal.”

Royer reaches out and again, we shake hands. I can’t help but feel the spark of energy that zaps up my arm—I won’t pretend I don’t still have feelings for him. Mingled with the hurt and anger in my aching heart.

“See you tonight,” Miller says, standing and slapping his hand on my shoulder. The emotions I feel are the opposite of my ex; disgust and revulsion. He’s nothing but a predator hunting the weak. I’m going to enjoy bringing this bastard down.

6

Reagan

I could get used to being a man. Getting ready for the party is a breeze. Jeans, shirt, shoes, a little product in my hair. It’s the fastest I’ve ever been ready for any event—the most comfortable, too.

I practice holding my posture on the elevator ride down from my room. Loose hips, pushed back shoulders (but not too much because I can only keep my boobs so flat.) The car stops at the third floor. I hook my thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans as the door slides open in an attempt to look cool.

I’m not expecting my former roommate Janelle on the other side. Predictably, she’s focused on her phone—clueless that anyone else is in the elevator with her. That doesn’t stop the sheen of sweat from rising on the back of my neck. At the bottom floor, the doors slide open, and I let her exit first. Even though it’s the longer route, I go the opposite direction.

Zeta Sig isn’t the only house on the Row having a party. Every house is lit up as I walk past, the crowds big enough that I get lost among the other students. Most are females, walking around on shaky legs and six-inch heels. I stare as one girl helps her drunk friend up the steps. Her sparkly skirt barely covers her crotch.

“Bet she’s not wearing underwear.” I spin and see Knox, or rather his chest, since he’s ridiculously tall. He’s wearing a Wittmore track suit jacket zipped halfway up his torso, rowing logo stitched over his heart. His chest is bare underneath. It takes me a moment to drag my eyes away from the smooth, rippled muscles to see him gesture to the girl with his party cup. “You could bend her over the couch and fuck her quick without even getting undressed.” His eyebrow quirks. “Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it.”

“I uh…” I was actually thinking that I have a similar skirt and I wish I was wearing it instead of these baggy jeans. “Yeah, she’s hot.”

“That’s Brianna. She’s a junior and Zeta Sig frat rat.”

“Frat rat?”

“You know, they hang around all the time, act like we’re all besties, but really, she’s just the frat bike.” I raise an eyebrow and he quirks his lips in the kind of grin that makes girls crazy. “You know, anyone can take a ride.”

“Ah, okay, right.Thatgirl.”

“Oh yeah. The best way to get in her pants is neg her a little. She can’t resist it.”

I stare at the girl. Someone pushed a cup in her hands and she’s leaning on a guy. His hand curls possessively around her waist, rubbing little circles into her skin.

“Back handed compliments are like catnip to a girl like Brianna. Little shit that makes her feel bad and forces her into wanting your approval. Those girls will do pretty much anything you ask.”

Jesus.