Page 24 of Terror Tuesday

And when his hand stretches before typing something, my belly flip-flops at the sight. Why am Isoattracted to hands? Okay, not every man’s hands. But strong ones. And these are definitely good-looking knuckles. Clean nails. Skin that looks as if he forgot to moisturize, and there’s something interesting about that. I wonder what they would feel like on my?—

“So we’ll need to form teams of threes for the project.”

I glance around, heat flaring across my cheeks, and realize I’ve missed most of the lecture.

Everyone in the auditorium groans at the mention of agroupproject. Nick is already turning toward me to ask if I want to partner up.

“We’re in this, right, babe?”

Elliot’s green eyes shine as he stares at Nick for a moment before pursing his lips as if he’s afraid to speak.

“Want to join us?” I ask before he can.

Elliot’s shoulders relax as the corners of his lips turn up. “Yeah. Thanks.”

There’s a shift in the room—chairs scrape, bags rustle, voices lift.

“Are we all okay to head to the library to figure out a game plan?” I ask, already dreading being the only one who’ll actually do the work.

“Of course, babe! You coming too, scholarship?”

Nick tosses his arm around my shoulders like we’re on prom court, pointing us toward the exit. I slap his chest, exasperated at him using the derogatory term for those not in Greek Life. “Don’t pay attention to him, Elliot.”

Elliot’s completely unfazed. His grin is lazy, a bit sly, as he tries hard to contain a larger smile. “It’s fine. I’ve always preferred brains to branding.”

The fall chill nips at my skin as we cut across campus toward Cardell Library—my family’s donation to the university. Nick walks with the swagger of a man who’s just made a deal he doesn’t understand. His hand drifts dangerously close to the small of my back before I dart forward through the heavy oak doors like I didn’t notice.

“Private room?” I ask, eyeing the sign-out tablet near the desk.

“You know I only do exclusive,” Nick says with a wink and dimpled grin.

“Is that before or after they muted you in the group chat?” Elliot adds.

I snort. Nick frowns but says nothing, probably unsure if he’s just been insulted. We grab one of the smaller study rooms on the second floor—the kind with floor-to-ceiling glass on one side and a small whiteboard on the other, like we’re prepping for a corporate pitch instead of Global Power Structures and Ethics.

As soon as we sit, Nick sets his feet on the edge of the table and leans back in a chair, getting comfortable.

“What are you wearing to theThetaparty tomorrow night?” He licks his bottom lip as he looks at me. Ignoring the gesture, I flip open my laptop, my stomach tightening into a knot.

“Well, I don’t even know if I’ll make it through the escape rooms?—”

Nick snorts. “Ofcourseyou will. You thinkAidenwould let his sister get stuck? Nah, nah. Babe, you can dance with me. Just toss on some pink lingerie and go as Barbie.”

When I turn toward him to see if he’s serious, thinking of me, thick and dark Olivia Cardell, going as thin, blonde Barbie, he wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ll be your Ken.”

“That’s fitting,” Elliot pipes in with a smirk. I slap his elbow under the table.

Nick leans forward enough to say to him slowly, as if he’s an idiot. “Terror Tuesdayis a Greek Life game. Not sure you’d get it.”

My irritation rises as I close my eyes for a brief moment before Nick opens his mouth again.

“So, Olivia, I was thinking—we could do, like, economic collapse through NFTs or something. Just spitballing... It could be relevant.”

Before I can evenaskwhat that is, Elliot murmurs, “That’s one way to fail us.” He flips open his notebook and raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure Professor Navarro’s just dying to hear about meme coins and muscle milk.”

Nick glares, pulling out a protein bar from his designer duffel. “Just trying to make it interesting, man. Girls like interesting.”

“Girls like accuracy,” I mumble as I skim the assignment brief.