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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Friday night at O-Chi, we celebrate my birthday.

Sort of. And mostly thanks to Liv. She bought me a cake, which the brothers were happy to help eat, and Cole mixed me a special birthday drink, but only because I refused to do tequila shots.

We played Never Have I Ever and Drunk Jenga, and now we’re all sprawled around the living room making pitiful attempts at coherent conversation.

Zander and I are lying on the floor, my head on his chest, while Liv and Braden sit on the couch above us, her legs stretched across his lap.

Earlier this week, he finally asked her to the Mardi Gras ball, thank god, and now he’s relishing in her gratitude.

Cole and Jenna are playing Smash Bros and Jenna is kicking Cole’s ass. For some reason, I find this hysterically funny and can’t stop laughing. Not until Braden chucks a dingy throw pillow right in my face. It reeks of must and sweaty feet.

“Ugh. This thing is disgusting.” I hurl it back at him. “There’s such a thing as a washing machine, you know.”

Braden pretends to be shocked. “No way. Is there? Get the fuck out of town. ”

“You can’t wash pillows like that,” Cole says as he sidekicks Jenna’s Princess Peach. “You have to take them to the dry cleaners.”

“Fuck that,” says Zander.

I shake my head. “No, you can wash them if you do it in cold on the gentle cycle.”

Braden barks a laugh. “Okay, no dude uses the gentle cycle.”

“And that’s why your pillows are a biohazard.”

“Just try washing them,” Liv chimes in. “What’s the worst that can happen? Even if they fall apart, they’re still better off than they are now.”

“Hmm, I’ve got an idea.” Braden runs a hand up Liv’s thigh and leans in for a kiss. “How about you and Betts wash them for us? You know, since you know how.”

I snort like a horse on Zander’s chest.

He tugs playfully on my ponytail. “Sounds like a great idea.”

“No way.”

Braden nuzzles Liv. “But if you want to be an O-Chi Sweetheart…”

Jenna cuts him off. “We don’t do your laundry.”

“Damn straight,” Mia confirms. “No housework.”

By this point, I’m only half listening. Since when have Liv and Braden discussed her being an O-Chi Sweetheart? To her, it would be the next best thing to being in a sorority. I prop up on my elbows and whisper to Zander, “Is Braden serious about Liv being a Sweetheart?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t he be?” Zander has that peaceful, half-sedated look he gets when he’s got the perfect buzz. His blue eyes are heavy-lidded and his smile slow.

I, however, am not feeling so calm. “Just so long as he’s not jerking her around.” It seems to me like Braden’s dangling Sweetheart over Liv like the proverbial carrot. “She can’t take any more heartbreak.”

“He’s not. He’s serious. We’ve all already talked about it.”

I shoot up. “You have? ”

Zander sits up, too, and grins at me. “Yeah. The brothers have already agreed to vote you in.”

You? “You mean Liv and me?”

“Yep.”

“But—but?—”

“Awesome, isn’t it?”

Even buzzed, I can feel the blood pounding in my head. “I—I don’t know.”

Wrinkles form on Zander’s forehead. “What’s the problem?”

I’m flabbergasted. How did this happen right under my nose? “No one asked me.”

“I’m asking you right now.”

“But I don’t know if I want to. I mean, I haven’t had a chance to think about it.”

“What’s to think about? You’re practically Sweetheart already.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Liv says, evidently listening in. “You’re the shoo-in. I’m just riding on your coattails.”

How is it I notice she’s just used a mixed metaphor, but I can’t wrap my brain around the implications of this conversation?

“You want another drink?” Zander asks, regarding me like I’m coming down with something. “Or some more cake?”

No, I need to sober up. Fast. But I take the offer of cake in hopes of redirecting the conversation. Unfortunately, my effort fails. While Zander’s at the kitchen island, plopping a man-sized piece of devil’s food onto a plate, Braden nudges me with his toe.

“So what do you say, Betsy? You in?”

Next week, I’ll be using witchcraft to communicate with the dead, and I’m not frightened by the idea at all. But becoming an O-Chi Sweetheart? The mere thought of it immobilizes me. “Can I think about it?”

Braden grins. “Don’t worry, if you dump Zander’s sorry ass, the rest of us’ll still want you.”

I attempt a light laugh. “Good to know.” That was a concern that flitted through my fuzzy mind. But it’s not the only one. Or the most important.

Liv isn’t so easily put off. She leans down and hisses in my ear, “What’s your deal?”

“Did you know about this?”

“Braden and I talked about it, but I didn’t know they already agreed to ask us.” She’s excited. Happy. Her eyes shine as she bounces her knees. “It’s perfect. Who needs a sorority when you have these guys?”

“I just wish someone would’ve told me.”

She narrows those dark brown eyes. “I don’t get what the problem is.”

I whisper back, “Remember everything I told you after I dropped out of Rush? Well, it all still applies.”

“Why? You’re already in the club. It’s a perfect fit.”

Yeah, but as Sweetheart I’d have official duties—in service to the brothers and the organization. My whole life would be O-Chi. O-Chi events (that I would have to organize, for god’s sake), O-Chi parties, O-Chi meetings. O-Chi, O-Chi, O-Chi.

Two Greek letters that would mark my identity.

Property of the men of Omega Chi.

When Zander returns with my cake, I mindlessly shovel it into my mouth. Braden takes the game controller from Cole and starts battling Jenna. He’s a mouthy player, making other conversation impossible. So I take advantage of the moment to ask Zander if we can go upstairs to talk.

“Sure.” He grabs us each a beer on the way.

Once we’re in his room, he flops onto the bed and pulls me down on top of him. “What’s wrong?” Nice of him to ask, but the way he kisses me suggests he’s not all that concerned.

“This whole Sweetheart thing.”

“Braden’s not gonna screw Liv over. I promise.”

“Good.” One less thing to worry about. “Because she’s really excited about it. ”

“So why aren’t you?” At least he acknowledges that I’m hesitant.

I tip onto my side and play with his sun-streaked curls. “I know this sounds crazy, but I was so relieved when the whole sorority thing didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, well, some of them can be pretty bitchy. The brothers aren’t like that.”

“I know.” They truly aren’t. “But?—”

“And we don’t expect you to do laundry.”

No, they’d expect me to be their little pet. Their mascot. I’ve seen what Jenna and Mia do: they’re the pretty faces that build the frat’s cachet. The ribbons on the present. The flowers on the cake.

The ornaments .

Zander raises up on an elbow, bewildered. “I don’t get it. I thought you’d be excited.”

“It’s not that—I mean, I’m flattered. It’s nice that all the brothers like me. But I like things the way they are.” I snuggle closer to him. “You know—unofficial.”

“Nothing would change. It’s just a label.”

“But Jenna and Mia do all sorts of stuff for you guys.”

He shrugs. “No more than you’d do in a sorority. Probably even less because we’re dudes and we don’t give two fucks about all that protocol shit.”

I think back to the morning after Jason OD’d in the basement.

To how freaked out Zander and the other O-Chi officers were about losing their charter.

They care more than they think they do. And if they’d been reported, Jenna and Mia would’ve had to help smooth things over.

The last thing the brothers need is an oversensitive, clairsentient psychic trying to serve as ambassador in stressful situations.

“But I’m more of a behind-the-scenes kind of person. You know, an introvert.”

Zander’s grin is sexy and slow. “Not with me.” He tugs on my waist until I’m pressed against him .

I accept a kiss, but no more. When his hands start roaming, I push him back. “Seriously, Zander. I need you to listen to me.”

He rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. “What’s the big deal? The guys love you. You’re the perfect Sweetheart. You’re even actually sweet.”

Flattery isn’t going to work. Especially because I know what he means by sweet: docile, cooperative, eager-to-please. I’m running out of the energy and will to be all the things that make me so “perfect” in his and the brothers’ eyes.

Zander kisses me again and adds, “You’re one of us. You don’t belong in some stuck-up sorority. You belong here.”

I say flatly, “You mean with you .”

“Well, yeah,” he grins.

When I don’t grin back, his brow dips. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. It’s just, I like O-Chi being part of my life, but I don’t want it to be all of it. There are other things I want to do.”

He’s frustrated. And incredulous. “Like what?”

His scowl has my hackles up. I rise to my knees and throw up my hands.

“I don’t know. Things.” Convinced Zander won’t understand, I trip on my words.

“I—I love to read. And go for walks—like real walks—out in nature.” Not just between Newberry and Fraternity Row.

My shoulders sag. “And I don’t like to drink every night and go to big parties all the time. ”

Zander is defensive. “Since when? You have your own cooler, for fuck’s sake.”

“Because I can’t get through a party without getting drunk!”

“Oh, please. Are you actually trying to tell me you’re not having fun? Me ? That’s bullshit.” When I jump from the bed, he grabs my arm. “What is this really about?”

I growl, “I’m telling you what it’s about.”

“No, you’re telling me a bunch of bullshit about reading books and hating beer.”

“That’s what it’s about!” I yank my arm free and stagger back. “ Believe it or not, my whole life isn’t O-Chi. I have other friends and other things I like to do.”

Zander’s on his feet, stalking toward me. “Other friends, huh? You mean like that guy who was trying to get in your pants on Halloween?!”

I stand firm as he approaches me, my hands fisted and my eyes shooting fire. “Yes.”

“So you’re still hanging out with him? Even after I told you not to.”

“Yes.”

“Are you fucking him?”

“No!” Of course, Zander would think I don’t want to be Sweetheart because I’m screwing some other guy. Not because I have a mind of my own. “We’re friends.”

“Friends, huh? So what does he do for you, this friend ?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Zander’s face is red and pinched as he shouts, “You’re my fucking girlfriend. It is my business!”

“You’re right, I’m your girlfriend. Which means you should trust me, and care about me, and give a fuck about who I really am!

” I struggle for breath. I’ve sobered up, but all around me the room is spinning.

“The only reason you want me to be Sweetheart is so that everyone will know you own me. You might as well just brand your letters on my ass!”

“Own you?” he scoffs. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. You treat me like a…a thing, not a person!”

“That’s ridiculous. I love you.” It’s obvious he’s trying to calm himself down. He’s lost control of this fight. Of me. “All this because I want you to be Sweetheart?”

I hold back a scream of frustration. I have to get out of here. While I fumble for the doorknob, I look at the man I’ve given so much of myself to. At those beautiful blue eyes blazing with anger and confusion. He’s never going to understand.

“Babe, come on.” He reaches for me, but I side-step him .

“I need to go home.”

“Okay. Okay.” He holds up his hands like he’s soothing a rabid animal. “If that’s what you want to do, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

I shake my head as tears clog my throat. How can my heart pound so hard when it’s breaking?

“What?” His eyes widen in horror. “Are you…are you breaking up with me?”

I choke out a “Yes” and fling myself out the door.

He shouts my name and runs down the stairs after me. “What the fuck?! Betts!”

I break the threshold of the living room to find everyone motionless and staring. Gawking. Zander stumbles in after me. “I’m not letting you do this!”

Letting me? Fuming, I snatch my things off the coat rack and throw open the front door. He calls for me one more time but doesn’t come after me. Liv does.

She struggles to keep up with my long, angry strides.

I stop and turn to her. “It’s okay, I’m fine. You don’t have to come with me.”

“Even if you were fine, which you’re obviously not, it’s too late for you to walk home alone.”

I’m too spent to argue with her. I say flatly, “We broke up.”

“I know, I heard.”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“I know.” She loops an arm around my shoulders and gives me a quick squeeze.

I have to admit, it feels good to have her beside me. I may not want to talk, but I don’t want to be alone either. We walk the whole way in silence, except for my sighs and sniffs, and by the time we get back to our room, I’m sobbing. Confused, furious, and heartbroken.

I want to throw myself, face down, on my bed and cry until I dissolve in my own tears, but Liv won’t let me. “Brush your teeth and wash your face. If you don’t, you’ll regret it in the morning. ”

Numbly, I let her nudge me through my routine and tuck me into bed.

“I still want you to be Sweetheart,” I tell her.

Liv smiles. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”