Page 54

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Good thing Liv is still in the shower, because I keep taking my necklace on and off like a crazy person.

It’s just that every time I feel that amethyst hit my chest, the childish, spiteful side of me pitches a fit.

Like I’m gonna wear something that dickhead faerie gave me.

But I know it would be stupid to go to this party unprotected.

Bowing to my common sense, I give the pendant a squeeze and commit to clasping the chain around my neck.

We’re one and the same, this crystal and I—a heart that absorbs too much, trapped in a decorative cage.

In the mustard yellow and avocado green kitchen, Liv and I find the keg.

The guy on duty takes one look at us and waves us to the front of the line.

“Ladies,” he croons, dimples flashing as he smiles.

“Welcome to Beta Rho Nu.” He fills our cups, pausing to let the foam die down before topping up to the rim. “Enjoy.”

We thank him sweetly and follow the flow of people downstairs. For a while we remain on the periphery, sipping our overfull beers and singing along with the band. They’re impressive. It takes a shit-ton of talent to play both Janet Jackson and Pearl Jam.

My cup is only half empty when Liv squeals, “Britney!” and yanks me out into the crowd. I’m not drunk yet, but yeah, it’s Britney. We cut loose, dancing and singing and draining our beers.

An hour and another drink later, I’m sloshed. Which is good, because nineties music is brutal if you have a broken heart. Rejection, lies, abandonment, loneliness.

But also anger. So much glorious anger.

“See! You needed this!” Liv shouts in my ear.

I give her a thumbs-up and go back to my frenzied dancing. By the end of the grunge set, my hair is a mess and I’m positively vibrating from all my vented rage. If only someone had written a song about being deceived by an asshole faerie.

I throw an arm around Liv, hanging onto her as we wobble. “If you had the chance to smash Legolas, would you do it?”

“You mean Orlando Bloom? Hell yeah.”

“Well yeah, Orlando Bloom. But only if he’s actually an elf.”

“Still hell yeah.”

“The ears wouldn’t bother you?”

Liv throws back her head and laughs. “Why would I be looking at his ears ?”

We make our third trip to the keg, rating as many fictional fantasy men as we can think of. Thor? Thumbs-up. Edward Cullen? Maybe. Damon Salvatore? God, yes. When Liv brings up Captain America, I have to correct her. “He can’t be on the list. He’s human.”

“So what? They’re all fiction.”

I mutter, “Wanna bet?”

Liv side-eyes me, then my nearly empty cup. She teases, “Do I need to cut you off?”

“How about just a half cup more?”

Our buddy at the keg, Josh—yeah, we’re on a first name basis now—is happy to oblige. “Are you stuck here all night?” I ask him. He’s been on keg duty for over an hour.

He sighs. “I’m a pledge. I’m here as long as they want me to be.”

I’m enraptured by his thick wavy hair and startling green eyes.

Liv does her best Karen imitation. “Well, we’d like to speak to your manager. We think he’s abusing his staff.” The manager Liv is referring to would be Josh’s Big Brother, the one who gets to push his assigned pledge around.

I smile innocently. “Maybe you could let us know where to find him?”

Josh grins. “His name’s Liam, and he’s right—” he stretches to point past a cluster of drunk girls, “over there.”

“The guy in the blue shirt?” Liv asks.

“That’s him.”

I lay a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Liam is more than happy to let us invade his small cluster of friends. In fact, he can’t take his eyes off Liv’s 34Cs. This is going to be cake.

Liv tilts her pretty head and bats her lashes. “Are you Josh’s Big Brother?’

“Yeah? Why?”

“You aren’t gonna make him stay at the keg all night, are you? Because we want him to come dance with us.” Liv puts an arm around my waist and pulls me right up against her side. We stumble just enough to hint at how much alcohol we’ve consumed .

“Is that right?” Liam’s southern accent is thick and his smile charming.

I pout. “Couldn’t you let him take a little break?”

“Might could. But I still gotta keep an eye on him.”

Hmm. That’s gonna be tricky when his eye is most definitely glued to Liv.

She gives him a coy smile. “Then why don’t you come dance with us, too?”

Liam smacks the shoulder of the guy standing beside him. “Get Carlos to man the keg. I’m taking Josh off duty.”

We tell him where to find us and duck back into the crowd.

Only one song later, he and Josh turn up, fresh beers in hand and grins on their faces.

I flirt shamelessly. I’m on the rebound—from two different guys—and I have no fucks left to give.

Josh is a decent dancer and smells of expensive cologne.

He’s not my usual type, but that doesn’t matter.

He’s no-strings-attached, all hotness and pure fun.

We move together as the band plays Fiona Apple. I like the way he feels, more like Zander than Leo, wiry and slim. We try to talk a little, but we quickly tire of shouting into one another’s ear. I know he’s a sophomore biology major, and that’s plenty.

He’s been on good behavior, confining his hands to my waist and keeping his lips to himself, but when I turn to dance with my back to his front, he dips his head low, tickling my neck with his breath.

Goosebumps sprout on my skin, and my imagination rushes into uncharted territory.

For the first time in my life, I consider a one-night stand.

Or is that what I had with Leo?

No. There’s no baggage with a one-night stand. No lies or broken hearts. No expectations. It’s just sex, pure and simple. Yeah, I might be down with that.

Liam is a lot more handsy than Josh is. I’ve watched Liv not-so-subtly adjust his grip at least three times.

I wonder what she’s thinking and what’s going on with her and Braden.

She hasn’t updated me on the Sweetheart situation, but then again, we’ve barely spoken to one another all week.

Does she still consider Braden her boyfriend?

Because right now she’s not acting like she does.

And she was awfully willing to spend a Friday night without him.

When out of the corner of my eye, I see her kissing Liam, I’m certain something’s up in Braden-land, and it makes me feel like crap.

If they’ve had a fight, I should’ve been there for her instead of moping over a dumbass faerie.

I abandon my fantasies of a cathartic one-night-stand and recommit myself to my Bestie role.

No more drinking tonight. I need my wits about me if I’m gonna keep Liv from doing something she’ll regret.

My efforts to get her to go to the restroom with me fail, but Josh escorts me upstairs, directing me to the back hall before turning into the kitchen for more beer.

I join the long bathroom line, propping a hip against the wall every time progress stalls.

As the line inches forward, I pass two bedrooms. In one, there’s so much pot smoke the lamplights reflect off it in swirling white cones.

In the other are about a thousand people.

I squint into the dim light. No, about thirty people, pretty much all couples.

It’s like an orgy in there, although everyone is mostly dressed.

Feeling like a voyeur, I turn away, but not before my eyes land on a set of linebacker shoulders and a head of reddish-gold waves. His back is to me, but I have no doubt who it is. Braden. And in his arms—and plastered to his face—is a little bleach-blond I’ve never seen before.

Fury blazes through me and curls my hands into fists.

I want to march in there and yank him away by the ear.

But I don’t. Because something tells me it’s my own pain and humiliation that’s triggering my anger, not Liv’s.

Considering what a good time she’s having with Liam, she doesn’t appear to be suffering.

As my concern for her fades, panic kicks in, because where there’s Braden, there’s Zander.

I thought for sure we’d be safe from the O-Chi’s.

They hardly ever party at another frat. They must’ve come for the band.

Bottom lip between my teeth, I scan the milling bodies and faces.

I don’t want to see Zander, I can’t cope with him. Not now. Not after everything .

I think I may die.

When it’s finally my turn to use the restroom, I lock myself in and draw in deep breath after deep breath, trying in my drunkenness to settle myself down. It may be possible, in this huge, packed frat house, to avoid them all night. But what if we can’t?

I peek around the door before I go back out into the hall. No sign of Braden. Or Zander. No O-Chi’s at all. I keep my head low as I cut through the sea of people, grateful to be short enough to get lost in a crowd. Josh has already rejoined Liv and Liam where we left them.

He puts an arm around me and draws me to him. “I was beginning to think you’d left.”

“No. The line was just that long.” I peek over my shoulder at Liv.

She’s pretty content and, uh, preoccupied.

She probably wouldn’t care if she ran into Braden.

Either that or it’s exactly what she wants.

The jealousy game has worked on him before.

If he has any feelings for her, the sight of her in the arms of hottie Liam should do the trick.

We dance until the band finishes their second set, then Liv announces she and Liam are going outside for some air.

Uh, no. Not without a chaperone. “Oh. Are you?” I give them big, ingenuous eyes. “What a good idea. Josh, you wanna go outside with them?”

He grins boyishly and shoves his hands in his front pockets. “Sure.”