Page 26 of Bad Man on Campus

I bring the pasta in and Brick carries in a platter of meat. I serve myself first, before I even take my seat next to Fitz. Brick sits on my other side and there’s something settling about being flanked by these two guys. I can count on them in the onslaught of any storm. This one is a social media shitstorm trying to make me out as a punk asshole athlete getting away with drunk driving.

As we’re all busy fighting to fill our dishes as if the food is going to run out—though it never does—I say to Fitz, “I need to find out who took the car crash video.”

He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Fuck yeah. If I have an enemy out there trying to make me look bad, I want to know who it is.” I watch Fitz pile a giant scoop of linguini onto his plate, but he says nothing.

“What about you, Brick? Any ideas who it could be?”

“A fucking asshole, whoever it is,” he says, already digging a fork into his food. “The last post I saw flat-out calls athletes overprivileged pussies. I want to find the fucker who started this and bang his head in.”

I lower my voice. “Problem is not too many people would have had the opportunity. The guys in the house are the most likely suspects.”

Brick drops his fork and looks around the room. “No way,” he says to me, then raises his voice above the noise at the table.

“Any of you assholes take a video of the car crashed into the tree the other night?” A chorus of indignant fuck no and you’re an asshole for asking comes back in response. Brick raises his hands and blows out a whistle for calm. “Fine. Any of you assholes see anyone in the area with their phone out taking pics that night?” The guys shrug unanimously. No one saw anyone around that night. Most of them went back inside when Brick insisted they leave, so I’m not surprised.

“Who’s in charge of the IG account for SADD? Find that person and you’ll find the leak,” Romeo says. Then shuts up as he digs into his pasta.

“Problem with that is, the SADD people aren’t going to want to share their intel with me, are they?” I want to add, you fuckwit but I don’t in deference to the fact that Romeo is Brick’s teammate and friend.

“I say you forget about it,” Fitz says to the table. We have a full house tonight, twelve of us, and it’s noisy with clattering forks and the usual conversations in various degrees of laughter and conflict. Fitz turns to me. He shakes his head and in his gravest voice, which is pretty fucking grave even for a normally serious guy, says, “Maybe you ought to consider telling the truth—”

“Don’t even fucking say it.” My muscles tense and my jaw clenches. Using all my limited self-control, I keep my voice down, keep it calm. “If it was you or Brick, would you want me to out you?” I stare him down until he looks away muttering something about it not being the same thing, that Glory isn’t the same.

Glory not the fucking same? What the fuck does that mean?

I drop my fork. His words strike me at the core, angering me until I feel like one giant knot of tension. I shove my chair back. No way I can eat.

“What the fuck?” Brick says.

“Leave him alone,” Fitz says. And for the first time since I’ve known him, I want to smack him in the face. I want to hit my own best friend. That’s extreme even considering my history of a fiery temper. He’s always thought he knows what’s best for me, for everyone, but it’s never bothered me before and I tell myself not to let it bother me now.

Except that would feel too much like betrayal of Glory, and I’m still trying to make up for my last betrayal, leaving her in Birchtown to deal with the aftermath of the crash while I took off for SPU. Taking a deep breath while the guys around the table talk and eat, I pull my chair back in and pick up my fork.

“Don’t mind me, I’m touchy on the subject.” I pause and give Fitz a nudge with my fist, nothing too hard, but enough to let him know I’m serious. “But trust me. I’m doing the right thing.”

Fitz gives me a skeptical look, but thank fuck says nothing. That’s the thing about him. He knows when to back down. And even if I disagree with his advice, I know he has my back no matter what.

Brick snorts. “I don’t give a fuck what you do. It’s your balls on the line.” He shovels in another forkful of meatball and pasta that doesn’t look like it should fit into his mouth.

The aroma of the sauce lures me and I dig into the food, replenishing my reserves. Something tells me I’ll need all the pasta I can get.

Chapter 5

Glory

If I count texting, then I’m spending lots of time with Kace, but in reality, I haven’t seen him in the flesh—that glorious muscular flesh of his—since Monday. It’s not paranoia that makes me sense something is wrong. It’s the social media pics and the gossip. In the shower is the only time I let myself think about all the trouble I’ve caused. It’s nothing compared to three years ago, but it’s not good.

Shutting the water off, I throw a towel on and scamper from the bathroom to my room down the hall. In spite of Dooley trying to convince me to leave the freshman dorm for the luxury of a sorority house, I’ve refrained, deferring to Kace’s judgment. For now. Dooley says I can change my mind any time. He insists that they’ll make an exception for me because I’m not a transfer student and there’s something in the bylaws.

Whatever. I have more important things to worry about than a sorority. I just made the football dance team and though I should be excited about it, I’m more worried about Kace than anything else. I’ve managed to pack my schedule, to throw myself into college life, partly for myself and partly so I won’t be so dependent on Kace. He needs a break from me.

Now after three days, between tryouts, classes, work at the day care and getting to know everyone Dooley thinks I should know, I’m finally getting together with Kace. Along with a few of our friends. We’re going to Wildbeast Pizza. Smiling at myself in the mirror, I can practically see the giddiness overriding the worry. I’m walking over with Dooley and we’re meeting Kace there. I’m hoping he invites me to stay the night because I’m practically in orgasm withdrawal over not seeing him.

Throwing on my uniform of cut-off jeans and a Wildbeast T-shirt, I don’t bother with makeup. My momma always says a girl’s gotta take advantage of her youthful good looks while she has them. That’s my excuse for going makeup naked. In reality, I hate the feel of it on me, the idea of it. What you get when you look at me is authentic Glory Rose.

Or as authentic as I can be while I’m hiding my ugly past. Not hiding it. Getting past it, Glory. Moving on from it. Running down the stairs with my platform espadrille sandals strapped on, I dash through the lounge and into the twilight of late summer where the night and my boy, my dreams for my future, await.