Page 89 of Ruthless Chaos

It’s pushed back to next week, so I have more time to prepare.

Though I don’t often get nervous, there’s so much banking on things going well that I can’t help feeling a bit of trepidation. I’ve fought off the urge to smoke more than a couple times this week.

This assessment will determine if they think we’re a good fit for Head Kingmaker of our chapterandthe Kingmaker Society.

The chances that I’ll fail are slim, but not impossible.

I double back for another bottle of water, then cut through the crowd.

The music is so loud I can barely hear myself think.

The smell of sweat is thick in the air, spiced with the sickly sweet fog from the lawns.

Flailing hands hit me on the shoulders and chest as I move through the crowd. I grimace, annoyed by their obliviousness.

Half of them are probably high, especially since the Chaos House crazies are here—those slags can’t have a good time without their happy pills.

Every time a blond head of curly hair appears in my peripheral vision, my eyes snap to the person’s face.

I come away disappointed each time.

After the third time, I realize what I’m doing—looking for Allie. Though I found her at that party by the lake, this doesn’t seem like her scene.

But there’s still a chance she’ll be here, knowing that roommate of hers.

Tara’s reputation is well known among the juniors and seniors. I know for a factshewould be here.

As if on cue, I spot her in the crowd.

She’s grinding against one of the Chaos House druggies.

That’s odd, considering the stories about her and Professor Holmes. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would enjoy sharing.

I scan the people around her for Allie.

I’m relieved when I come up short.

Her being here without me to protect her makes me upset. A crowd like this has a mind of its own, and the alcohol flows too freely. She wouldn’t know how to keep herself safe.

She’s probably asleep in her bed.

I can picture it.

Her full bosom rising and falling with each slumbering breath, the thin fabric of her nightgown skimming her luscious breasts and taut nipples. Her plump lips would be slightly parted; her eyebrows furrowing as she dreams of me taking her for the first time. I would pull the covers down and hike her dress up, run my fingers along the slope of her stomach down towards that tight, sopping pussy and—

The tightening in my pants pulls me out of the thought.

I’m standing in the middle of a crowd, for god’s sake. This isn’t the time.

I shelve the thought for later, when I’ll inevitably end up stroking my cock to the thought of her.

It’s become my nightly ritual.

I take another sip of water to get myself under control, then continue wading through the crowd. Instead of Allie, I force myself to think of the weekend ahead. Nothing gets rid of a boner quicker than the thought of responsibilities.

I’m almost to the stairs when I see Keller dancing with a girl.

My steps slow.