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He shifts to face me.

“But?”

“But I don’t know how to trust you, not after all of this.”

“That’s fair.” He flips the beads hanging from his rearview mirror. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”

The air in the car grows thin, the space between us almost non-existent. But the farmhouse is right in front of us. Anyone could see us sitting like this. It’s dangerous. I start to open the door, but he reaches across me and pulls it shut.

“Royer knows you didn’t come back last night,” he says, eyes darting toward the house, the red rooftop visible through the trees. “And Rat and the chit, your old roommate, got into it after class. He’s on the warpath. You need to hunker down for a while.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Having a run in with either of them is not on my list of things I want to do today. Not with so little time left. “What? How the hell am I supposed to hunker down?”

His mouth forms a thin line, and he shifts impatiently. Finally, his expression clears, and he asks, “Do you trust me?”

Do I?

No.

Do I have a choice?

No, again.

I sigh and brace myself. “What do you want me to do?”

“You do seethe absurdity in this, don’t you?”

It’s not just absurd, it’s surreal. Feeling the wispy locks of hair graze my chin. Having my knees exposed and, most of all, having cleavage again.

Miller’s eyes are zeroed in on my chest. “It’s not absurd. It’s practical.”

Yep, Miller’s big idea to get me in past the guys is to dress me up like a woman. Why does he have a red wig and minidress at his disposal? “It was on the list of hazement ideas. Forcing the goats to dress up like women and hit on guys from other frats. See how far it would go, but it got axed for the cum cup.”

God.

I look down at my shoes—five-inch platforms coated in a layer of glitter. “I fail to see how these shoes would be considered practical.”

He stops me just before we go in the back door. “I can’t take Theo Hart, number forty-seven, up to my room,” he looks me up and down, gaze once again lingering over my chest, “but no one will care that much if I sneak up a woman.”

He opens the door, and we step inside. I haven’t been in the farmhouse kitchen. The goats eat on campus or out in the barn. He gestures to a back staircase, and I feel the brush of his fingertips against mine. A shiver runs up my spine that only spreads when he slides our hands together, fingers entwined. It’s a common, intimate gesture, one that implies our relationship has shifted from the day before. When we reach the landing, he keeps me close, going straight to his room.

“Oh shit,” I cry, tripping over the heels and slamming into him.

He laughs and holds me upright, placing a finger over his lips. “Shh.” When no one emerges from any of the rooms, he adds, “You okay?”

Those blue eyes are cool for once. Soft.

“Just clumsy.”

“Come on,” he says, twisting the knob of his bedroom door. “Let’s get you inside before you break an ankle.”

I exhale when the door is shut behind us, looking around his bare room. Now that I’m here, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Did he really bring me up here to hide? Or is this a ploy to get me to have sex with him again?

I catch my reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of the closet door and freeze. I’d changed out in the Jeep, only seeing a sliver of my hair and face in the rearview mirror. Seeing my reflection—thegirl—with long legs and hips and tits and long hair.

“What?” he asks, grabbing a pile of clothes off the bed and tossing them in the corner.

“I just look…” I toy with the ends of the wig. “I don’t know. Like me again.”