Page 14 of Big Bad Tease


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I’d known guys like him in high school—assumed they were entitled to whatever they wanted.

Which is why I had been a fan of group hangs. I felt safer in them. People looked out for each other. But one or two people always spread rumors about me, saying I led them on with my smiles and flirtatious behavior.

That wasn’t it. I’m naturally bubbly, and sometimes it comes off as airheaded. When certain people read you as an airhead, they assume you’re too dumb to turn down sex with them.

But I only ever had eyes for one person—the person who never saw me as anything but a kid.

I thought college was where I could reinvent myself and leave the whole persona behind. Leave behind all the people who thought I was shallow, spoiled, immature, a “try-hard,” or played too hard to get.

Boy, was I wrong.

“He’s not trash,” I say, my voice shaking.

Dale scoffs. “You know this guy?”

“He’s an old friend,” I say, swallowing down the nervousness in my throat. Tonight is one of my first parties as a full-fledged Beta, and I’m already dangerously close to pissing off important people. And all that after Leela, the president of Beta Beta Psi, had taken me under her wing.

If Leela’s upset that I invited someone to this party who started a fight, I’ll feel terrible. If I get kicked out of Beta Beta Psi, I have nowhere to go.

But neither can I let people treat Titus this way without speaking up.

“So,” Dale says with a sly smirk, turning to Titus. Titus is wincing as he gets to his feet with help from me. “She friend-zoned you too, eh? Don’t say I didn’t warn you about the little dick tease.”

The look on Titus’s face as he rises to his full height. Oh no.

“Titus,” I hiss.

But he’s not hearing me.

He’s going to lunge. I can see it in the ticking of his jaw, and I can feel it in the tightness of the bicep that it takes two of my hands to grip all the way around. My brain takes this inopportune moment to wonder when Titus started working out hard enough to get this ripped. Did he start because of a girl?

All right, brain, time to stop feeling jealous and focus on the problem in front of you.

“Cass, let go of me, please.” Titus’s words are eerily low, slow, and meant for me to hear only.

I whisper back, “If I let you go and you tackle that guy, it’s not going to go well for you or me. Think about what you’re doing.”

“I ain’t going to hit him again,” Titus murmurs to me without taking his eyes off Dale. “I just want to teach your friend some manners.”

I shouldn’t laugh at that. “Titus,” I chuckle. “When did you go to finishing school?”

I know that smirk anywhere, and my friend is working extra hard not to bust up. “Do you trust me?”

How those full lips curve up in a smile takes my breath away. I would trust this man if he told me the earth was flat, and he would prove it by carrying me on his back to the edge.

But I don’t say that. What I do squeak out is a soft, “Yes?” He smiles bigger and winks one glinting hazel eye. And I let go of his arm.

I watch, trembling, as Titus moves away from me to stand eye to eye with Dale. Dale is annoyingly tall.

To indicate he has no intention of further fisticuffs, Titus shows Dale his palms.

“I’m not going to fight you. But I am here to let you know that if you ever talk to Cass again, and if I ever hear you talking shit like that again, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Hardly,” Dale says with a haughty gaze.

“Count on it,” Titus tells him in a low, gravelly voice that I’ve never heard from him before.

I hate violence. Hate it so much. Watching men fight is repulsive. One time after cheer practice, my co-captain’s ex-boyfriend showed up to speak with her new boyfriend, who was in the parking lot waiting for us to come out of the locker rooms. The ensuing grabbing, spitting, grappling, grunting, shirt ripping, and failed attempts at headlocks were so weird and uncomfortable to watch. Graceless.

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