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The lights are on, but turned down enough that the space fills with more shadow than light.
I let out a loud exhale, just as relieved as I am disappointed. At least I tried.
“What are you doing in here?”
Heart in my throat, I turn as Brady emerges from the shadows behind me where he must have been standing when I breezed right past him.
He doesn’t exactly look threatening, although the full suit he wears is a stark contrast to the designer khakis and inexplicably expensive polo shirts that the other guys upstairs are wearing. It’s probably a good thing that he wasn’t mingling in the party because it might have felt like someone’s dad had shown up.
My voice comes out in a startled squeak. “I brought you a drink.”
His eyes narrow in annoyed confusion. “What did you say?”
Even though he isn’t threatening me, I’m very aware of the fact that Brady is standing between me and the only way out of the room.
I take in a steadying breath, fully expecting him to see right through this stupid ruse. “I was told to bring you a drink.”
But Brady just gestures for me to hand it to him. “Good timing. Some idiot pledge took all the bottles out of here.”
The drink in my hand is melting, ice no longer clinking as loudly as it was a few minutes ago. But I hold it out to him like it’s the most attractive thing in the world. “Here you go.”
Brady takes the glass from me but doesn’t drink from it. His lips curl in a cruel smirk. “I’m surprised you’d come down here, especially since there’s video evidence from the last time.”
If I were really Olivia, reminding me of what happened here would be the height of cruelty. If I were a girl who’d been drugged into making a sextape that was shown to everyone on campus, then I doubt I’d have the strength to be standing here right now.
But I’m not Olivia Pratt.
I have the luxury of being able to think past her trauma.
My hand traces my bottom lip as I relax my stance, a coquettish look on my face as I study him. “You make it sound like I have something to be embarrassed about.”
“Don’t you?”
“If I do, then so does everyone else that was in that video.”
Brady gives me a condescending smirk. “Is that some sort of girl power nonsense? Sorry to be the one to tell you, but the rules for guys just aren’t the same as they are for girls.”
I have to bite back on a feminist rant because it would only fall on death ears. Brady is a classic misogynist, the type that only wants to keep the aspects of gender that suit his interests.
But I need to keep him talking.
“That’s probably true,” I acknowledge. My voice turns flirtatious as I hold back on the urge to vomit. “I guess I’d say that some rules are meant to be broken.”
He laughs and the sound grates like nails on a chalkboard. “I’m getting that impression from you.”
“If I’m being honest, a lot of what happened last year is a blur. I don’t remember a good chunk of it.”
He takes another gulp of his drink, eyeing me over the rim. “That would explain a lot. More than a few people have been wondering what you were thinking coming back here.”
I lick my lips, and his gaze automatically moves to follow the movement. “Maybe I just want things to go back to the way they were. Before all the nastiness.”
Brady pushes away from the door and takes a seat at one of the armchairs set up along the wall. “I guess I can understand that.”
His eyebrows go up in surprise when I follow him and take a seat in the chair next to him. “I think it would really help me move on if someone filled in a few of the blanks.”
“What makes you think that I’m someone who would help you with that?” he asks repressively, gaze moving to the glass in his hand.
His drink is still half-full and there is a good chance that the drug in there won’t be enough. I need to keep him distracted enough that he keeps drinking.
