Page 3 of Sour Lollipops and Sweet Nightmares (The Society #1)

Georgia

O ne of my favorite books growing up was Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day . It reminded me that even on the worst days, things were never as bad as they seemed. There was a bright side to everything. Yes, I may have fallen on my ass, but I found that missing sock.

This was not one of those days. Terrible, horrible, no good, and very bad didn’t even come close to explaining the hell I’d been through. It started from the minute I woke up and stubbed my toe on the bedside table. It all went downhill after that and continued to spiral as the day carried on.

Our neighbor decided to do laundry while I was in the shower, making the water either scalding hot, or freezing cold. My hairdryer blew a breaker, causing my mother to argue with said neighbor for half an hour.

Then my suitcase refused to roll, so I had to carry it down six flights of stairs. Only to find out that I couldn’t get into my car because someone had parked too close to the doors.

After crawling in through the sunroof, I discovered that I had accidentally left it open during the rainstorm the night before. It was cold, wet, and a frog was sitting on my steering wheel.

I should’ve taken that as a sign—if I believed in those kinds of things—but I was too excited to give it much thought. I wasn’t just a college girl anymore. I was an Ivy League college girl. All my dreams were coming true. Not even a soggy car seat could ruin that.

Three hours into my eight-hour drive, a tire blew out, causing my car to almost veer into the ditch.

When I found the only mechanic in a town so small that the gas station, grocery store, and diner were not only in the same building, but were the only businesses there, my flat tire turned into an engine fire.

Even then, I continued to try and looked on the bright side.

While my car was toast, there was a bus station on the edge of town where I could continue my journey, so I wasn’t stranded. However, the only seat available was next to a guy who smelled like rotten fish.

He was nice, though, until he spilled his coffee all over the white silk blouse Mom saved up to buy. And because all of my stuff was in the underbelly of the bus, the only change of clothes I had was the maroon sweater the sweet old lady behind me had just finished knitting.

But that was okay, because I made it. I finally arrived at Renfrew College.

This was the moment I’d been looking forward to since I received my acceptance letter and scholarship.

I didn’t matter that it was a month into the first semester, because this was everything I had worked so hard for.

An Ivy League education on a campus more beautiful than I could ever imagine.

It was like stepping out of a bus into a dream.

Gone were the jocks and cliques I avoided. Now I was surrounded by other students who were distinguished, classy, ready to learn, and complete assholes. Apparently, jerks were still jerks after high school.

Everyone I asked for directions ignored me, except for three people who gave me the wrong directions to the dean’s office on purpose. I knew this because I saw them all laughing when I stomped back the way I came. That was the exact reason I didn’t like talking to people.

Not only did social interactions give me mild panic attacks, but nine times out of ten, they turned out bad or weird. I once had a conversation with a woman about the mating habits of mice. I had no idea how we got there, but we did.

And now, I knew that male mice emitted an ultrasonic mating call. While that was an interesting piece of information, it was something I never needed to know.

By the time I found the dean’s office, the receptionist was leaving for the day. She told me to have a seat and walked out.

For thirty minutes, I waited patiently outside the door while sitting in the most uncomfortable chair ever created, which was when patience became a virtue I no longer gave a crap about.

I was done.

I stood up and barged into his office, prepared to give him my opinion on how his offices were run. For example, his receptionist could’ve let him know I was out here before she left.

What I didn’t expect when I opened the door was to find four assholes surrounding whom I assumed to be the dean. And I meant assholes.

I wasn’t being judgy. There was a look some guys had. An arrogance and entitlement displayed in their body language that said fuck you, I’m gonna do what I want. All four of these guys had that look.

Oh, and one of the asshole’s had nothing on below the waist. That was fantastic and not at all how I thought my first in-person look at a penis would go. But hey, why not throw some male genitalia on the clusterfuck cake that was my day. Who didn’t need a little biology in their life?

Although considering that said genitalia wasn’t flaccid, biology might not be the right word.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the one with sandy hair barked.

Needless to say, I’d walked in on something I wasn’t supposed to see. Threatening four guys—all of whom could easily crush me into dust—with a picture I had taken of their nefarious doings, probably wasn’t my smartest idea, but I was committed now.

“Well, right now I’m the girl who can destroy your reputation with one finger.”

He didn’t like that very much. His jaw tensed while his turquoise eyes narrowed, so he was glaring at me like he wanted to peel the flesh off my bones.

I should be intimidated and definitely scared—the numbers were not in my favor—but I wasn’t. Maybe if I weren’t so over this day, I would’ve been?

Usually, I wasn’t the type to believe in things like fate and karma, but I was seriously starting to question if I did something awful in a past life.

I glared back at Sandy Hair, waiting to see what he would do. I didn’t want to upload this picture and humiliate anyone, but I would. Survival wasn’t a pretty game. The rules were dirty, and the moves were dirtier.

Sandy hair swept his glare down to my feet and back up to my face, lingering long enough to send a chill down my spine, then waved over his shoulder. “Come on, guys.”

That should’ve been the end of it. They were all leaving, I was still in one piece, yet for some reason, I looked directly at Sandy Hair, smiled, and sang, “Bye-bye now.”

I don’t know why I did it. Maybe I was too exhausted by that point to care? I wasn’t the type to pick a fight with well… anyone. I mostly kept to myself.

Self-preservation was important. Especially when the person you were up against looked like a cross between a cover model and a serial killer.

I could almost see the plan to dispose of my body forming in Sandy Hair’s mind. He was the kind of guy you wanted to look at, but were too afraid to stare for too long, because his attention was not something anyone wanted. Nothing good would come from it.

Proof of which came when he paused a step away from me and growled, “Watch your back. This shit isn’t over,” before walking out.

Yup, I definitely did something bad in a past life.

Needless to say, we probably weren’t going to be friends. That was fine with me. I wasn’t here to make friends. I’d never been any good at it anyway. People creeped me out, and social interactions were exhausting.

I waited until Sandy Hair walked out and closed the door before turning around and heading over to the man on the floor. Never turn your back on a predator. And that guy screamed predator.

Even though I dreaded the thought of touching another person, I held out my hand to whom I assumed was Dean Richards. “Are you okay?”

I based my assumption on the man’s age. Most college students didn’t have salt and pepper hair or wear suits. Well, half a suit. His jacket was lying over the desk, and there was a shirt crumpled on the floor next to a condom that I was pretending not to see.

“Yes,” he took my hand and I helped him pull himself back onto his feet.

That was when I got an up-close view of a hairy chest and man-stomach. He wasn’t unattractive—dadbod, I think, was what girls would say—but it was more than I wanted to see. Between him and the other guy, I’d seen a whole naked man, and I didn’t even get my first kiss out of it.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” I smiled and pulled my hand away from his and wiped my palm on my skirt, as if that would brush away the feeling of his touch. “I hate bullies.”

Not really. For the most part, I avoided them, but today I hated them, along with people who gave wrong directions, the manufacturer of my car, that guy on the bus, and cotton fabric that was too smooth to make my hand feel clean.

I regretted not wearing jeans, but I wanted to look professional. The guy on the bus ruined that look.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t walked in.”

Suspicion narrowed my eyes as I took a step back and scanned his stance. Leaders of Ivy League educational institutes had a certain poise about them. They didn’t look like they got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Was this guy in fact, the dean?

“Please tell me you’re Dean Richards?”

The last thing I needed was another trek across campus. Although it would fit with the way my day was going.

“I am.”

Thank God.

“And you are?” He held out his hand, which I just eyed.

Helping him off the floor was one thing, but shaking his hand felt wrong. I wasn’t comfortable being this close to an authority figure when he was topless.

“I’m Georgia Pyne.”

“Ah, yes.” He nodded. “The transfer student. I was expecting you early this afternoon.”

“I ran into some problems getting here.” I didn’t want to go into the details of why I was here at six o’clock. Honestly, I was just glad that he was still in his office.

“I hope it wasn’t anything too bad?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Um…” I waved my finger over him. “Do you maybe want to put on a shirt?”