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He stopped and shook his head as he laughed. "Always about the sunshine, ain't ya, Sheldon?"
"It's Jeneve. What do you want?" I was tempted to stomp my foot in rhythm and tap out the seconds until I lost patience, but that was rude…and I'd already filled my rude quota for the day.
"Whatever, Sheldon. You know you love how I say your name. Just admit it." Then, he caught the look in my eyes and hurriedly threw out, "Corrigan said you banned the frat house from your party on Friday night? That can't be real, right? Corrigan's got it wrong."
Parties. Frats. And Corrigan. Why was I not surprised this was why Michael Reveritt found me? I grew tired of the game and turned on my heel. "No, you're not invited."
Mike followed. "Come on, Sheldon. You're all alone in that huge house of yours. Corrigan told me about it. He told us about the ragers you used to throw. Why won't you let us come?"
"Because you're morons." I had a better reason, but the moron part was true enough.
Mike reached out and drew me to a stop. He pleaded. "You're best friends with Corrigan, and he's one of my brothers now. How can you cut off a brother from his brothers? It's inhumane. And besides, we're a frat. We have to be at the best party on campus."
"Good thing my place isn't on campus." I peeled his fingers from my arm.
"You know what I mean. Come on, Sheldon. You're one of us, and we have to be there. It wouldn't look right if we weren't."
"Contrary to your thoughts, Ritt, the party isn't for you. It's for me, Corrigan, and Bryce. I'm inviting people that Bryce knows. He doesn't know you—"
"Yes, he does."
I stopped in my tracks. "What are you talking about?"
"He calls Corrigan all the time. Corrigan spends a bunch of his time with us. I've had a few conversations with your boyfriend; at least enough to know that he's a chill guy. He'd be surprised if we weren't at the party."
"He's not my boyf—" I stopped myself. It had been over a year, and I still automatically denied the relationship. I waited a beat and then clarified, "I'll talk to Corrigan about it, but if you guys come, you can't trash my place. If you do, heads will roll. I mean it."
Mike flashed a smile. "I wouldn't expect anything else. And you're family. We won't do anything to your place. Corrigan would take a battering ram to us if we did."
I grinned. Corrigan would; that made me proud.
"So you're cool with us coming?"
I sighed, "Were you ever not coming?"
"Hell, no," he laughed. "I just thought I'd make one last ditch effort before we crashed and officially pissed you off. Good thing, huh?"
I bared my teeth, much like a wolf would do before it tore into its prey. "Do you know what I do to people that piss me off?"
Mike stopped and opened his mouth. No sound came from it.
"The worst I've done is kill 'em…"
I turned and sauntered away but not before hearing Michael mutter behind me, "Holy God, that woman."
Why didn't I want the fraternity at Bryce's party? The real reason is that I didn't want any distraction from his homecoming. I didn't want any drama. I wanted Bryce to feel relaxed, around people he used to know. The frat guys were not relaxing and definitely not drama-free. But I already knew they'd crash the party. It made sense that they'd want to be at the best party around, especially one that was thrown for the local jock celebrity, as Grace had termed it.
Ah…Grace.
I'd have to fix that. I knew that I'd hurt her feelings, but a part of me didn't understand why she was so upset. Yes. I had publicly exclaimed that she had feelings for Corrigan, but that wasn't exactly top-secret. I knew it. Grace knew it. I was pretty sure a whole bunch of other people knew it, Corrigan included. Besides, everyone knew the details of my personal life. If the campus gossip mill hadn't covered it, the tabloids from Europe got the rest. They really loved Bryce over there, and they really hated that he was leaving for a U.S. team.
My phone rang.
And speaking of Bryce…
I grinned as his name flashed over the screen. "What's up?"
"Hey, I'm here," he said.
"You sound refreshed. Shouldn't you have jetlag or something?" And what did he mean he was here? He wasn't supposed to show up until Friday, two days from now.
Bryce laughed. "I slept on the private jet, Sheldon. And yes, I know it's disgusting that I get to fly in private planes now, but deal with it. I don't suffer jetlag, and I don't care."
"Whatever," I growled but grimaced. Could I be any more annoying?
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I clipped out.
"Sheldon, what's wrong?"
"Nothing!"
"Tell me what's wrong or I'm going to have my mom come over for dinner tonight," he threatened.
I buckled—damn it. "I was a bitch to Grace."
"When are you not?" Bryce laughed.
He knew me too well. "And I told our psych class that she has feelings for Corrigan."
Bryce quieted on the other end for a moment. "I thought they'd already talked about that. Didn't Corrigan tell me something about that?"
I shrugged. "News to me. Grace hasn't said anything to me about it, but she's been stupid over him since our senior year. Good gracious, how long is she going to pine for the moron?"
Bryce mused, "Well, it's out now. They'll figure it out."
"And I'm the quintessential bitch, like always."
"You're just you, Sheldon. Get over it and get home. I've missed you."
I grinned and picked up my pace for the car. "My dad did have a pool installed…"
"Done. I'll meet you there." And Bryce hung up.
As I approached my car, I shook my head. Bryce was back. He was back, and he was at my house—it felt good.
It felt…like normal.
CHAPTER TWO
When I pulled into my driveway, I was a little confused when I didn't see Bryce's red Miata. Then I hit the button for the three-car garage, and there it was, all nice and shiny. It was one of Bryce's guilty splurges while he was in Europe. When I decided to come back to California, he'd sent it with me. Bryce said it wasn't the same driving it around when I wasn't there. So I'd been driving it until the last few weeks when Corrigan insisted he wanted his time because when Bryce came home, he'd lose his chance with the Miata. I hadn't cared, and it had been with Corrigan since.
Guess Bryce got it back.
As I let myself into the house and walked down the adjoining hallway, I caught sight of his luggage. A year ago, he had left with a soccer bag over his shoulder, and now he returned with sleek, black, pristine-looking luggage. I wasn't sure how I liked the changes, but, no matter the money, Bryce was still Bryce.
Bryce and me were still Bryce and me.
I quickly shed my clothes for a bikini and strode towards the pool. I pushed open the door, and there he was, in a brisk front crawl through the pool. The water glistened over his shoulders, which rippled and bunched as he continued to pace himself. He made swimming look easy.
And then he stopped at the edge and lifted his head.
I groaned and smiled in delight at the short black Mohawk, sea blue eyes, and chiseled cheekbones. Bryce flashed a smile, full of intent, as he lifted himself out of the pool.
