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ten

Somehow, I manage a quick shower, even dig inside my pussy to scrape out any possible Ryan remains.

I toss my wet hair into a bun, dress in some high-waisted jeans with a cropped blue Sigma T-shirt, then rush out the door in white sneakers.

Despite cleaning up, I can’t seem to clear my nose of his scent.

It lingers in my space…spiced and wild, like pine needles crushed underfoot or the inside of a leather satchel packed for a dangerous trip. It smells like trouble.

Problem is, my first class is located all the way across campus in Page Hall.

If I had time to enjoy the beautiful gothic architecture, today is not that day.

Instead, I push through crowds of students milling outside Cardell Library, and sling my bag over my shoulder while dashing toward the quad. My phone buzzes.

Oz

Last night go okay? No one messed with you right?

Shit . What do I even tell him?

If Oz sees the video of me begging for Ryan’s cock or the pictures he just posted…

it’ll ruin everything. Ryan’s made it all look like I wanted this.

I could ask him for help, yes. But I need to think about this.

If they hurt a Cardell , things could get complicated.

In my mind, I envision two warring families taking each other’s sons until there’s none of us left. I can handle this on my own. For now.

Me

I’m fine. U?

Oz

Theta won. Fucking pricks. Nico says hi.

Me

Ok

Nico? Nico who ? After the rush from the event and this morning, I’d almost forgotten he existed.

Once I make it to the heavy mahogany doors and grasp the brass handle, I slow down enough to gather some air.

Criminology with Professor Amanda Hall is on the second floor, and I take the quartz stone stairs two at a time, knowing I’m going to be ten minutes late.

This class is junior level, and I asked for special permission to take it early due to its popularity.

The hall is cleared of students when I reach the door and take a peek inside through the vertical window.

Mitch glances around behind him, then points toward an empty seat he must’ve saved next to him near the middle.

His head jerks to the side, encouraging me to enter, so I sneak in as deftly as possible.

Professor Hall continues talking while I scoot through a few students and plop next to Mitch. He leans over and whispers, “’Bout time you got here. She doesn’t like when people are late.”

“I know. I tried to make it on time, but got hung up.” Grumbling to myself, I think about Ryan. It wasn’t my fault.

As I finish my sentence, I realize the entire room has grown completely silent. When I face the front, Professor Hall stands still, with her arms crossed, looking straight at me, along with all two hundred other students turning in their desks to stare at me, too.

Her light brown bob waves as she tilts her head, narrowing her eyes behind her black-framed glasses. “So…not only late , but you’re also talking while I’m trying to lecture. What’s your name?”

My throat feels like it’s being squeezed closed and infernos of embarrassment light up my cheeks. “Pippi Freidenb?—”

“Oh, yes. Pippi Freidenberg.” She spits it out like a curse. “Since you’ve distracted everyone in here from what’s important, how about you leave and spend your father’s money elsewhere today? We all want to learn.”

Fury makes folds in my forehead, and I open my mouth to protest, but my voice is soft and weak. “I want to learn.”

“Next class, arrive on time and refrain from talking, or you won’t be welcomed back. Goodbye.”

Stunned, I sit in a frozen state until Mitch taps my knee with his and gives me some wide eyes. Students ogle me but, fortunately, the professor calls their attention back to her.

Like the dancer I am, I stand gracefully while holding my chin up, slide my bag over my shoulder, and weasel my way out, blinking back heated tears. No one can see me cry.

With a stumble, I let go of my stone facade and make it to the women’s restroom on the same floor.

Arms braced on either side of a sink, I force my lungs to expand so I won’t explode with frustration and shame.

When my gaze crawls to my mottled face reflected in the mirror, all of those feelings turn to anger toward the man who made me late.

Ryan fucking Cardell.

Speaking of the devil himself, I pull out my phone and delete every image he’d posted to my Pixtagram, change my password, and untag myself from his photos, then block him. I’ll have to have my cousin Valen, Valencia’s brother, make sure he didn’t hack my device.

A text message comes through from Mitch.

Mitch

Wait for me. Let’s grab a drink at the quad cafe.

Me

Just meet me there after lecture

I really don’t want to hear it from him about getting to class on time. He’s probably going to brag about how he made it this morning just fine, despite being in the hunt last night, which will only irritate me more. Maybe I’ll step on his toes.

Slowly, I wander toward the campus coffee shop and shoot a text to Gwen, wondering if she spent the night with one of the brothers…or all of them.

Me

Where r u? U okay?

The message goes unread, so I stuff my phone into my Marc Jacobs camo tote bag, making sure I have my notebooks for the rest of my classes today.

Sun streams between the looming gray stone buildings, odd shadows cast across the smooth sidewalks from the pinnacles that cap the tops. Prisms of red and blue dance through the stained glass and over the large plots of lawn cut into neat squares as I cross to the quad.

The cafe has been updated, now gleaming in modern sleek whites and paneled light wood. Steamy coffee aromas swirl around my nose when I enter. Two familiar faces sit at a table near the front windows, which are lined with a trimmed row of crisp cut grasses to add to the natural vibe inside.

My cousins Ashlyn Donovan and Valencia Von Dovish wave me over, and my stomach tightens, thinking about telling Valencia that I didn’t win us any points.

Her red braid falls over one shoulder as she leans her elbows on the table while I slide in next to Ashlyn, who smells like a rose garden.

“Well?!” Valencia snaps at me, as if she’d already asked what happened last night.

“Uh…” I glance over at Ashlyn, who sips her coffee mug, and her blue eyes widen with anticipation. “I can’t talk about this with you here,” I say to her.

Her jaw drops, shifting the freckles on her cheeks. “Why not?”

Valencia interrupts. “Because you’re a traitor to your own kind, Ash. Pledging Omega over Sigma . I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. How dare you.”

Ash opens her mouth to argue, but I slap my hand on her forearm. If the two start bickering, they won’t stop until blood is drawn. “If I pay you, will you grab me an iced Americano, and I’ll tell Valencia what I need to before you get back.”

She scrunches her nose with irritation, narrowing her eyes at both of us. “Fine. But I’m only a freshman and not your direct competition, Val. And I do exactly as I please.”

Valencia hates when someone shortens her name, and her jaw clenches with a retort. Ash knows what she’s doing to set her off. Fortunately, she simply squeezes by me and heads to the line at the side of the store.

Valencia waits for her to get a few steps away, then snaps her gaze to me. “Okay, go. Two points?”

My fingers drum on the table, and I think maybe I should grow my nails out. I’ve never had them long due to all the sports and dancing. When it’s competition time, I wear fakes, but?—

“Pippi, seriously. What happened?”

“It’s still being decided.”

Her green eyes glare at me. “What do you mean?”

“Um, there was someone who called himself a judge, and he said I used a weapon, but I didn’t… And I just need to look into things more.”

“Oh my god. What weapon did you use?”

With my palms out, I shake them to emphasize my point. “I didn’t use any! I swear!”

“Well, what did he say you used?”

Swallowing, I pause for a moment. “My Harley key.”

“Shit.”

“What? Is that bad?”

“Yes. You can’t use anything, Pippi! You know this!”

Now I’m the one who’s snappy. “But keys aren’t a weapon, and I was acting on instinct, trying to protect myself and?—”

She waves a hand in front of my face, as if she doesn’t want to hear any more, and that just pisses me off more. I never had sisters, but between the brood of Donovan girls and Valencia, it definitely feels like it.

“You sound extra guilty with all those excuses. I cannot believe you broke the rules.” She huffs, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“Well, I wish you’d stick up for me for once.”

But she’s already moved on in her brain to the next thing, I can tell.

In a tumble of words, she mutters, “Terror Tuesday always goes to those Iota nerds. Wicked Wednesday we may have a shot at if we get some good pledges. Probably better than Omega anyway. I’ve got it.

We focus all our efforts on Thriller Thursday and Feral Friday.

That’s it!” With a sparkle behind her irises, her plan of running for president next year is obvious.

“Feral Friday is for you juniors.”

“I know. So we actually have a shot. Shh ! The traitor has returned.”

Ash sets a mug down of something that looks like a hot latte. When I glance up at her, she smiles. “What?”

“I asked for an iced Americano.”

“Oh. Sorry. If you’re not going to drink it, I will.”

A heavy sigh leaves my chest. Never ask Ash to do anything. “Fine. I’ll go get my own. Move.”

She bops to the side, her thick mane of light brown hair almost catching in my mouth, then she takes my place in the booth.

By the time I get my coffee and make it back to the table, Mitch is already there, and Ash has left. Valencia makes doe eyes at him, but he keeps checking for me.

“I didn’t know you’d already be here, or I would’ve bought you a mango smoothie,” I tell him as I sit on his side of the table. He stretches and places his arm behind me.