Chapter 1
This will not be a night that will change anything. There’s no momentous feeling of buildup or anticipation. No excitement. Just the same Friday night motions I’ve been going through for the past three years. I’m just hoping there’s still a chance for me to bargain my way out of this proposition.
I find myself in the midst of what can best be described as a warzone that, for the most part, resembles a bedroom. “If you believe you’re getting me out of this room tonight without a fight,” I warn. “I regret to inform you, you are sorely mistaken.”
“I’m not worried,” Fallon replies airily, trudging through the sea of makeup, hair products, and clothes that lay scattered on our bedroom floor. She casts a glance at me over her shoulder, a little smile playing at her lips. “The cavalry is already on its way.”
I groan dramatically, hanging upside-down over the edge of my bed. Of all the things to do on a Friday night, attending a party filled with rich boys whose fashion sense doesn’t stray from polos, khakis, and boat shoes—and who get handsy when they drink—is at the very bottom of my list. Right under brushing my teeth with sand-paper.
Normally I’m not one to pass up a frat party, but I’ve just spent the past hour freezing my ass off at a football game. And after winning by a landslide, it’s pretty safe to assume the football guys will be in the mood to wreak a little havoc. Game nights render each and every one of them particularly insufferable. I just don’t have the brain capacity to deal with that at the moment. Also, my room is warm and quiet and I have finally regained feeling in my hands. Wild dogs couldn’t carry me from the spot in which I lay.
The door, which has been left ajar, swings open, and a tall figure stands at the threshold. “I heard,” Jamie says, leaning his weight against the doorframe, “Someone was in need of my assistance.”
Fallon, who at this point is three-quarters of the way inside the closet, casts him a bored glance before pointing at me. “She won’t get up.”
“Before you come any closer,” I warn, “There’s a curling iron right within my reach, and I won’t hesitate to use it as a defense weapon.”
Jamie laughs, closing the door behind him as he steps into the room and crosses the floor towards my bed. “If you were trying for a threat, it didn’t work. ’Cause twisted upside-down, your little frown just looks like a smile.” He crouches down to be at eye level with me, crossing his arms over his knees. “Cute try though.”
I scowl at him and he smiles in return, pinching my cheek. “No weapons need to be drawn, since I’m not here for you anyway,” he assures. “This was all part of my plan to infiltrate your dorm and steal your snacks.” Jamie leans over and starts to rummage through the storage drawers under my bed.
I huff out a breath, swinging my legs to the side and sitting upright. “There’s a burrito for you in that container over there,” I tell him, “And before you ask, no it’s not old, I got it on the way home. However, I am only 93% sure it’s not been spat on. The lady was just about to close the stand when I got it.”
Jamie tears open the tinfoil wrapper and takes a bite, never mind the health hazards, speaking through a mouthful of rice and beef. “You’re a lifesaver,” he sighs blissfully.
I’m not, though. He’s just predictable and always forgets to eat after games. Content, he sits next to me on my bed and practically inhales his dinner.
“What about this one?” Fallon asks, holding up a little black dress she bought for me for my birthday last year. In the time Jamie and I have been occupied with food and conversation, she’s changed into a red dress with thin straps, which looks exactly the same as the one she’s holding out to me, just in a different color.
“You do realize that we’re well into December, right?”
“Well, you know what they say,” Fallon replies. “Bad bitches don’t get cold.”
“First of all,” Jamie cuts in. “It’s hoes that don’t get cold. Second of all, hoes are not immune to the flu.”
“You know, James?” Fallon begins, turning to him. “You’re a lot prettier when I can’t hear you.”
“You ladies better keep me talking, then,” Jamie wipes his hands with a napkin and discards it along with the burrito wrapper into the trash can. “Because otherwise, I don’t think you’ll be able to resist me.”
Rolling my eyes I wrap my arm around his neck, bringing his head down to my chest and ruffling his hair with my knuckles. He escapes my headlock with ease and we tussle playfully until he unavoidably overpowers me, pushing me back into the mattress and pinning my hands over my head at my sides. I try to wriggle out of his grip to no avail, which earns me a smug grin. “You better accept defeat now if you want to keep your pride,” Jamie taunts, water droplets from his shower trickling down his platinum blond hair and onto my face.
“You sure talk big for a guy who’s in an optimal position to get a knee to the balls,” I say.
“Feisty today, are we?” His teasing smirk remains cemented on his face. “Go on then, try.”
I do try to break his hold, but his knees bracket mine, and his shins are keeping my legs locked in place. “Fine,” I surrender with a scowl, “You win.”
“Thought so,” he smiles, blowing my hair out of my face before letting me go. He sits back, resting his weight on his hands. “So where are you guys headed?”
“Zeta Psi is hosting,” Fallon replies at the same time I ask. “You’re not coming?”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Jamie looks to me with his eyebrows pinched together. “Why? Did you want me to?”
Of course, I do.
“Of course I do!” I say, surprised he even has to ask. There is never a moment I don’t want him around, and he knows it. At least I’m pretty sure he does. “If I have to go, you do too. Those meatheads are more your social circle than mine.”
“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure you girls know most of them pretty...intimately,” he says after a moment’s consideration, a smirk playing at his lips. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“You wish that was you, huh?” I tease. Jamie turns to me with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. “Don’t worry. They all play ball but statistically at least one of them swings for a different team. And anyway, with a face like yours, I’ve got the feeling most of the guys wouldn’t be opposed to getting to know you up close and personal.”
“We share a communal shower, Gray,” Jamie says. “Trust me, we’re plenty close and personal.”
“Come on,” I plead. “It’ll be no fun if you don’t come. We both know she’ll ditch me for the first pretty thing that crosses her path.”
“Uh-Uh. Don’t put this on me,” Fallon objects. “What she means is that if she’s attending a party with the risk of running into Hunter, she needs an incentive,” she tells Jamie while tossing me the black dress. “Put that on,” she orders.
I sigh as I stand, laying the dress on Fallon’s bed as I start working on my belt buckle. “That’s not true!” I protest, pulling my shirt over my head and slipping into the dress.
“I see,” Jamie says and I turn to find him resting his elbows on his knees, his hands over his eyes. “You want me to be your chaperone.” His voice comes out muffled from behind his palms.
I reach into my dresser and slip on a pair of black tights before kneeling in front of Jamie and grabbing his wrists, gently pulling his hands away from his face. “Is it really that hard to believe I just enjoy your company?”
He bites the corner of his mouth, holding back a smile. “I’ll come if you ask me nicely.”
I suppress an eye roll as I cross my arms over his knees, resting my chin on my forearm. “Please?”
Jamie heaves out a heavy sigh. “Fine, enough with the eyes,” he says, covering my face with his hand and pushing me away. “I’ll admit that wasn’t strictly necessary.” He stands. “Purely for my own amusement.”
“You’re an asshole,” I reply, crawling on the floor reaching for my black platform boots.
“An asshole whose company you enjoy so much you’d beg on your knees for it,” Jamie says in a mocking tone, his back turned to me. I throw my boot at him. He dodges it, and it hits the door with a heavy thunk.
“Cheeky today, are we?” I say, retrieving my boot and putting it on.
“Copycat,” he smirks.
“You two,” Fallon interjects, curling wand in hand. “Stop that. Whatever that is.” She gestures with her hand toward Jamie and me, her nose scrunching. “And you.” Fallon points to me. “Hurry up, we’re already late.”
While Fallon finishes her hair and makeup, I lace up my boots and put on a grey knitted sweater and some jewelry. I consider taking off my day makeup and reapplying it but ultimately decide against it, refusing to put any more effort than I needed to.
“Ready to go?” Jamie asks, leaning against the door frame, twirling his car keys on his finger.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say with a resigned sigh.
Zeta Psi is within walking distance from Aster U’s dorm rooms, so as any good penny-pinching college students would do, we decide to walk. A horrible decision, really, since our outfits have been chosen for the sake of fashion and not practicality. They are no match for December’s cold, and a block away from the dorm it feels like we were asking for frostbite.
After a very slow, tortuous walk we arrive at the frat house where the party is already in full swing. Music blasts from the inside, people sit in small circles on the porch, smoking, and a few beer cans lay scattered on the front lawn as a result of wandering drunks.
A cold breeze brushes past me, sending shivers all through my body and making me rue the day I decided to start following Fallon’s fashion advice. I should know better by now than to blindly trust her judgment, but I never learn. My teeth chatter loudly enough that I almost don’t hear the rustling behind me before something heavy and warm lands on my shoulders. “Here,” Jamie says, sliding his hands down my arms. I turn to find him slipping his letterman jacket off. He holds it open for me and I diligently slide my arms through the sleeves. “Sorry it doesn’t match your outfit,” he says of the green and white garment.
Looking down at the way the sleeves completely cover my hands I heave an over-the-top sigh. “I guess it’ll have to do, won’t it?” I say, which he knows means thank you. A breathy chuckle escapes his mouth and he wraps an arm around me, his hand weaving through my hair as he brings me into his chest to keep me warm.
“Better?” he asks, his fingers at the back of my neck.
“Splendid,” I reply, my cheek pressed against the soft material of his sweater. “One of these days you’re going to have to tell me what kind of deal you made with the devil to make sure you’re always warm. I’m sick of my hands feeling like ice cubes.”
“It was a pretty simple trade, actually,” Jamie explains. “I offered him my firstborn son in exchange for a spell that would keep your hands cold at all times, and make mine permanently warm in turn so that I’d be your only possible source of relief.”
I laugh and poke him in the stomach, untangling myself from him and immediately missing his body heat. “You guys ready to party or are we just gonna stand here waiting to get tanned by the moonlight?” Fallon says, coming between us and sliding her arms over our shoulders. She looks completely unaffected by the cold.
“The sooner we go in, the sooner we get to leave,” I say reluctantly. “So onward we go.”
“That’s the spirit.” Fallon pats our rears, propelling us forward towards the house.
As soon as we step through the door there’s a drastic temperature change. The distinct heat that emanates from crowds of bodies pressed together makes the air feel dense and warm. I would find it a bit disgusting if I wasn’t so grateful for it. I consider returning Jamie’s jacket, but he looks comfortable enough in his cream-colored cable-knit sweater, and, despite the clash with the rest of my outfit, I like wearing it, so I decide to keep it.
A group of visibly tipsy girls come careening our way and swarm around us to greet Fallon. I recognize them as the Delta Kai girls, who were all close with Fallon despite the fact that she’s not part of their sorority. The girls put drinks in Fallon’s hands and gush about her look, and I can’t help but smile.
It’s only natural for people to be drawn to Fallon; she’s one of those people who’s just inexplicably magnetic. Upon first glance, one would be inclined to attribute that quality to her beauty; with her long, strawberry blonde hair, her forest-green eyes, and her curvaceous build. But I think that what makes people feel that pull towards her is that she’s always so...herself. There’s no other way to describe it. It’s refreshing to watch someone carry themselves and speak with no care for other people’s opinions.
I see her head pop up from the sea of girls, looking around before her eyes find me. She gives me an apologetic look and mouths “Sorry” before she starts being pulled away by the crowd. I smile at her, letting her know it’s all right and not to worry about me. I’ve learned to share her by now.
“Guess it’s just you and me, then,” Jamie says, sliding his arm over my shoulders. I lace my fingers with his. “Let’s go get a drink,” he proposes, and before the words have even registered, he is already leading us toward the kitchen.
I sit on the countertop to be at eye level with Jamie as he looks around at the assortment of alcohol. “Any special requests?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of water for himself.
“You’re not drinking?” I ask.
“Maybe later,” he says with a dismissive shrug. “I’m not really feeling it tonight.” He uncaps his water and takes a sip. “Besides, someone has to get you girls home safely. And I don’t need alcohol to have fun. Not when I have the pleasure of your company,” he says with a bow and I roll my eyes. “You, on the other hand.” He reaches for a beer bottle and pops the cap off before handing it to me. “You look like you could use some liquid fun.” His skin is cold as his thumb smoothes over the crease that has formed between my brows.
I know people think it weird for friends to be as handsy with each other as we were, but it’s our version of normal. Neither of us has ever been very good with words, so we’ve learned to communicate by touch. It’s simple and unequivocal, and comforting, and I can’t bring myself to care if other people don’t like it.
I dangle my feet back and forth, sipping my beer as I watch Jamie’s eyes scan over the crowd while he works on his own drink. It’s not the craziest or busiest party we’ve been to this year, but the inside of the house is pretty packed, and I’m sure there are even more people in the backyard. There’s a pause during which Jamie glances over my shoulder, a mischievous grin appearing on his face before he returns his gaze to me. “I’m afraid I might be about to do something a little mean,” he admits, running his hand over his mouth in an attempt to wipe the smile off.
“Don’t do it, then,” I say, absentmindedly picking at a piece of lint attached to his shoulder.
“No, I’m gonna,” he says, looking behind me and raising his hand to call someone’s attention. “Hunt-ugh!” He only gets half the name out before I realize his intentions and dig my elbow into his stomach. Not hard enough to cause him any internal bleeding, but enough to give him pause. My attempt proves futile, though, as mere seconds later a head of auburn curls comes into my line of vision.
“You okay, man?” Hunter asks Jamie, placing a hand on his back as Jamie doubles over, clutching his stomach and coughing.
“Yeah,” Jamie says hoarsely. “Just-” He clears his throat, gesturing towards his water. “Wrong pipe.” As he rights himself again, he looks at me with that grin still pulling at the corner of his mouth. I have to fight the urge to kick him in the side just to wipe it off.
“Happens,” Hunter says, awkwardly removing his hand from Jamie’s back, probably catching himself touching a man for longer than what he considers acceptable. Then he turns to me and smiles. “Hey, Gray.”
“Hey,” I say, and my tone sounds so bored I almost wince. I don’t want to be mean, and I kick myself when his smile wavers. There’s nothing inherently wrong with Hunter. Or maybe there is and I just don’t know him well enough to take notice. The only thing I know about him is that he is decent in bed. Not the worst I’ve had, but I’m not aching for a repeat. And not to sound egotistical, but apparently, he is.
For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been trying to phase him out. I’ll avoid him in the halls and ignore his messages. And, okay. Is it childish? Maybe. Assholeish? Definitely. But I don’t know what else to do. He is persistent and undeterred by my coldness, and I don’t have a concrete reason to give him as to why I don’t want to see him again. I thought I’d made it clear it was a one-time thing. I’m not looking to get involved, and I am bored of trying to make conversation with guys who clearly just entertain me with the goal of getting into my pants. So I’ve gotten used to cutting to the chase. Get in, get out. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, and we can both go on our merry way. But Hunter is not taking the hint. Therefore, ghosting.
“I’ve been texting you,” Hunter says. Not a question, but clearly a request for an explanation.
“Yeah.” I rub at the back of my neck. “I’ve just been…” Not interested. “Busy.”
“Right.” He nods, not buying my mediocre attempt at an excuse. Jamie leans against the wall behind Hunter, biting his tongue and trying to stop his laugh from breaking loose. He’s enjoying this. The fucker. I scowl at him over Hunter’s shoulder and he bites into his knuckles, barely keeping himself together. I’m going to murder him.
“Well,” Hunter says, calling my attention back to him. “You’re here now,” he steps closer, blocking Jamie from my line of vision, and he eyes me up and down, which rubs me the wrong way for some reason. “And you seem pretty free to me.” He places his hand on my thigh, near the hem of my dress and my irritation reaches a breaking point. Unsolicited touching is a big no for me, Jamie and Fallon being the only exception. Hunter isn’t taking my cues, or he is purposely ignoring them, so there is no other way around it. I grab his wrist and remove his hand from my leg. Not forcefully, but in a way that warns not to try it again.
“Look,” I say, pressing the neck of my beer bottle against his chest and forcing him back a step. “I’m sorry. I thought I made it clear, but I’m just not interested. It was fun, but that’s it. I’m not looking for anything else. I’m sure you can show any of the girls here a good time. Just not me,” I say with finality. He can’t pretend not to catch my drift anymore.
Hunter looks stricken, and maybe a little insulted, but he takes another step back. He bumps his fist against the counter once, without any force behind it, his mouth forming a thin line. “Noted,” he says, and I would feel bad were it not for the hint of anger in his voice.
I’m well within my right to turn him down, and it’s not my fault he expected otherwise. Hunter looks away from me, nodding at Jamie, who gives him a soldier’s salute as Hunter exits the kitchen and gets lost in the sea of bodies.
Stepping up to me again, Jamie lets out a long breath. “Whew, that was cold Gray,” he says, his tone amused. “Deserved. But cold. You really know how to make a man’s balls retreat into his body.”
I consider strangling him, his neck is right in my reach. “Fuck off,” I say instead and he finally lets his laugh slip free. “You sadist,” I accuse, digging my finger into his chest. “I bet you get a sick kick out of seeing me suffer.”
“The only thing I get a kick out of,” he drawls. “Is that pissy face you make when you tell me to fuck off.”
“Fuck. Off,” I repeat.
“One more time.” Jamie leans forward, bracing his hands on the counter at my sides. “It sounds so good.”
“Watch it,” I say, unsure of whether I’m speaking to him or myself.
“I’m not doing anything,” he amends. “I’m as innocent as they come.”
“That’s not what I’ve been hearing.”
“Yeah?” Jamie tilts his head. “And what have you heard?”
“I don’t know,” I defect. “What have you been doing?”
“Apparently enough to leave an impression.” He smirks, and for a second I let my thoughts get derailed before nipping them in the bud. My cheeks heat and it’s as if Jamie has read my mind because a second later he’s taking my beer from my hands and pressing the cold glass to my heated skin. I jerk back with a squeal and Jamie huffs out a small laugh.
“I fucking hate you,” I glare at him, wiping the condensation against my shoulder onto his jacket. It does nothing to wipe the amused look off his face.
“You wish you did,” he states. “Now come on, Drama Queen,” Jamie says, grabbing my waist to lift me off the counter, setting me down on the floor. He gestures with his head towards the sliding glass doors that lead outside. “We’re going dancing.”
