Me
What’s she wearing?
Roman
Nirvana crop top. Light washed baggy jeans. Hair down. Your twelve o’clock.
My brows pull while I search the premises straight in front of me as if looking on a clock.
There she is. Inconspicuous enough. Or at least, she should be. But the sliver of skin along her lean stomach gives me just enough of a glimpse to act like a carrot being dangled in front of a horse, and damn if it doesn’t make me feel like an ass. I wonder if the bruise is gone. It should be. Unless it was replaced with another one. The idea alone is enough to ignite my fury. I’ve kept my distance ever since our conversation in the quad. Hell, I’ve even refused to look at names while grading Econ papers in hopes of keeping my bias in check. If I had a mom around who knew the circumstances, I bet she’d be proud of my efforts. Doesn’t erase the twitch of my cock in my jeans anytime I see her, though. Violet smiles at something her best friend says, showcasing her straight, white teeth while causing her eyes to crinkle in the corners. Her guard is down. That’s why she looks different. I’ve never seen her with her guard down, and fuck if it isn’t beautiful. Ifsheisn’t beautiful.
Making sure to keep my tone indifferent, I ask, “Why’d you invite her?”
“Violet?” Ford settles back into his chair and folds his arms, looking like the perfect jester to our kingdom. “You said you wanted to give her a chance to earn her money. Thought I’d extend the invitation myself since she clearly doesn’t like you.”
He’s right on one thing. She definitely doesn’t like me. Ever since our conversation, she’s been avoiding me like I have gonorrhea. Won’t even look at me when she’s in class. Not that I care. Or that I’ve noticed. Okay, maybe I’ve noticed, but only because every other girl on the roster has slipped me their number in one way or another. Everyone but her. Not that I’d want it, anyway, but it’s a hard thing to miss.
My eyes search for her in the crowd like she’s a homing beacon. When I find her again, Violet looks up at the stage as if she can feel my stare. Our eyes lock. Her smile falls, and her gaze hardens, but she doesn’t look away. Not until her best friend cuts off our staredown by stepping in front of her. I don’t know why I’m almost disappointed. The realization messes with my head.
“Did you invite her before or after you placed the bet?” Hawke demands.
I lift my hand to silence him, adding, “And was it before or after we agreed on having the haunted house be the main event for tonight?”
Ford shrugs. “After and before. There a problem with that?” He doesn’t wait for our answers, just barrels on. “Besides, I thought you didn’t care about her as a fuckable prospect, only as a poor girl who should have the opportunity to earn back her money,” Ford clarifies. “Now, she has one.”
Despite the man making a good point, I fight the urge to throat punch the asshole, right here. Right now. “Any other bets I should know about?”
Ford shakes his head. “Nah.”
My attention cuts to Hawke.
“We have a bet to see if you’ll hook up with her by next?—”
“Come on, man!” Ford booms. “If he knows, it’ll skew the results-–”
My nostrils flare as I glare at my youngest brother. “No more bets. Not with her.”
“Then, how do you expect her to make any money tonight?” he challenges.
“You know what Jagger means,” Roman interrupts from behind him.
Ford jumps in his chair, surprised by the new addition to our conversation. “Fuck, man. You’re almost as quiet as Hawke.”
Ignoring him, Roman says, “People wanna know if we’re doing blind bets, or if we’ll keep the books open after we announce how tonight’s gonna go.”
Ford shrugs again and turns to me. “Any preference?”
I scratch the edge of my jaw, careful not to mess up the skull Hawke painted on my face earlier today while I consider our options. “Let’s get this shit over with. Simultaneous bets. One round for each activity. No rematches. And no wet T-shirt contest,” I add, giving Ford a sharp look. “I know you had that in your back pocket.”
“What? You really think that’s the one she’d sign up for?” Ford snorts. “No offense, but the girl has no tits. Now her friend on the other hand—” I sucker punch him in the arm, and he nearly falls out of his seat. Rubbing at the sore spot, he grumbles, “Calm down, man. You really are touchy when it comes to her.”
“I think we all agree you deserved it,” Hawke points out. “Besides, Lexie has enough assholes leering at her. Leave her alone.”
“Maybe she likes it,” Ford offers. “From what I hear, she’s a favorite at the?—”
“You sure you wanna finish that sentence?” Hawke growls.
“I’m just sayin’.” Ford’s brows bounce up and down.
