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Suddenly burning up, I toss off my comforter and let the cold swirl around me.

Arm-candy? I’m shocked my brain came up with that term.

It’s Leo’s fault. His voice echoes in my mind, You’re not an ornament.

Damn him. I rub my chin where I can still feel his digging fingers.

You’re more than this. I want to call him right now, at 1:00 a.m., and demand he tell me what more I am, because I have no clue.

From the other side of the room, Liv’s deep, contented breathing reaches my ears. I may not agree with her values, but at least she knows what she wants. Unlike me, she doesn’t second-guess. I pull my comforter up to my waist and close my eyes. My sorority rankings will stay as they are.

The next day, Liv and I submit our picks via email, and a few hours later we receive return messages with our lists for round two.

Both of us are invited back to our top four choices.

When I meet my group tonight, I’m assaulted by a nervous energy that makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

I also notice two girls are missing. Jeanine doesn’t acknowledge their absence, but I’m guessing they didn’t get invites from their top choices.

Considering how brutal and medieval the whole Rush process is, they’ve probably been sent to the gallows.

Thankfully, round two is all about house tours.

I have to endure more small talk, but at least we’re getting past shallow first impressions.

The GKA house is homey, like a typical American family room, but the DRB house has a bohemian vibe that I find surprisingly appealing.

Sprouts and fresh herbs grow in jars on the kitchen windowsills, and hand-crafted pillows and afghans are strewn haphazardly on the mismatched furniture.

While, at Liv’s direction, I’m dressed in a blazer, the DRB girls are at ease in their gauzy skirts and artisan jewelry.

They put off an earthy, positive energy that suits me, the empath and closet tree-hugger.

After visiting the other sororities, DRB remains at the top of my list. The only house I have left is KPT.

While Lara escorts us on our tour of one elegant room after the next, the sisters treat me like I’m already one of them.

They gossip about O-Chi and Zander like we’ve been best friends for years.

In fact, they fawn over me so much, the other girls in my group give me the hairy eyeball.

I want to tell them I hate all this attention.

And that it’s unearned. But all I can do is nod and smile.

I can’t rock the boat until I know what’s going to happen to Liv.

And that I discover at the end of the tour.

Once we’re seated in the living room on the matching damask sofas, the sorority leadership gives a short presentation.

The last to speak is President Peyton and, good god, she’s on the warpath.

There’s no denying her motivation. “The sisters of KPT value good breeding and discreet behavior. One must first and foremost be a lady. We don’t tolerate scandals or drama or smearing KPT’s good name.

Loyalty is the gem in our crown. We’re a sisterhood, and while men may come and go, your sisters are forever. ”

I don’t know whether to laugh or scream. I’m suffocating under the irony. If this is the same speech Peyton gave to Liv’s group, there’s no doubt Liv left in tears. When Peyton finally shuts up and lets us go, I fly out the door without a goodbye.

As I enter Newberry, I brace myself for a wave of misery, but none comes. Turns out Liv isn’t back yet. I’m about to text her when she bursts through the door to our room. She’s smiling—no, beaming—with excitement.

She squeals, “What a great night!”

“Yeah?” My heart races as I force a smile. “How was KPT?”

“Omigod! It was sooo amazing!” She’s breathless as she wriggles out of her scarf and coat.

Amazing? Did she go to an alternate-dimension KPT? “So, uh, did they give your group a presentation?”

“Yes! And it was so inspiring.” Liv drops onto her bed with a moony sigh. “Peyton was saying all this stuff about loyalty and sisterhood?—”

“Yeah, it was quite the speech.”

“I know, right?” She rubs her arms. “It gave me chills.”

Me too, but not the good kind. Maybe when Peyton talked to Liv’s group, she left out all the bullshit about sexual indiscretions.

Liv arches a brow. “I know what she was trying to do.”

I gulp, “You do?”

“She’s wiping the slate clean.” She drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “She was trying to tell me the whole Braden thing is in the past. Like, that being sisters is more important than some dumb guy.”

Oh god, that’s so not what Peyton was saying. Only the most guileless optimist would interpret her speech that way. But that’s my Liv.

“You don’t think maybe she was, you know, doing the opposite?” Please don’t hate me.

“What? No.” She dismisses me with a snort. “Why would they have asked me back then? And why has she been so nice to me?”

Maybe because they’re vindictive bitches who want to draw out the pain? I shrug. “I dunno. I mean, don’t you think she’s kind of fake?”

“She’s not fake, she’s a lady ,” Liv huffs. “There is a difference, you know.” She wanders to the mirror, muttering under her breath, “Not that they know how to be ladies at DRB.”

I wince, but I let the personal jab go. If I fight back, she won’t believe a word I say. “But is she really that much of a lady if she got so mad about Braden?” And called you names and threatened you?

“That’s all in the past, Betts. That’s what she was trying to tell me.”

I want her to be right, but deep down, I know she’s not. And it’s better for her to be mad at me for a little while than to have her heart broken by KPT. “I think Peyton’s up to something. Something not good.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t trust her,” I say. “And I don’t think you should either.”

“What is your deal?” She stops brushing her hair long enough to plant a hand on her hip. “All you do is ruin everything. You hate Braden…”

“I don’t hate Braden.”

“Oh yeah, right. My bad. You don’t trust him,” she says, throwing my words back at me with a sneer. “And now Peyton?” She levels me with a look of disdain, one so haughty even Peyton would be impressed. “You’re one to talk about trust—sneaking around with some other guy.”

It’s suddenly twenty degrees too hot in this room. With barely suppressed anger, I insist, “I’m not sneaking around.” Okay, I am, but only because Zander is irrational, not because Leo and I are romantically involved.

“Whatever.” Liv turns back to the mirror, her scowl fading into a frown. “And now you’re talking about joining DRB? You know, you say you haven’t changed, but you have. I don’t know who this is,” she points at me like I’m a specimen on exhibit. “But she’s not the Betts I know.”

In a small voice, I assert, “She is.” But they’re empty words. The truth is, I’m not the Betts either of us knows.

I draw in a long breath and release my anger on the exhale. Liv’s on the defensive; she’s not maliciously trying to hurt me. And all I want is to protect her. “Just please, keep it in the back of your mind—I don’t think Peyton is your friend.”

Liv rolls her eyes, but she says no more. Hopefully, I’ve planted enough of a seed that she won’t be completely defenseless when Peyton finally pulls the trigger.