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“Can I have it back now?” I ask and snatch it away.
“Why did your brother give you this?” she asks.
“I don’t know. He just told me not to ever talk to any of these people.” I shrug. “Whatever. It’s not like it matters.”
She makes a face. “Wow, your brother sounds really obsessed. And protective. Which is kinda hot.”
I give her a playful punch on the shoulder. “Oh my God, stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Well, this is more like a grocery shopping list than anything else.”
I laugh, and she hooks her arm through mine as we walk across campus, headed straight toward the boys my brother told me not to interact with. “Look. Some of the boys from your list are over there.”
Brooke winks at the dudes near the fountain.
“Phantom Society boys are notorious heartbreakers … and rich,” Brooke adds, gloating. “So I’m definitely gonna try my shot.”
“I’m not stopping you,” I muse.
It’s not like I haven’t noticed them, but I really don’t want to go over there. They give me the creeps. The way they’re looking at us. At me.
As if they want to eat me alive.
I throw my hair over my shoulder, determined not to let them get to me. But we’re steadily closing the distance, and Brooke’s heading straight toward them.
Right as we pass them, Irina, my other Beta Pi sorority housemate, suddenly runs up to me and squashes me into a hug. “Lana!”
“Whoa, whoa!” I mutter as my feet cave under the added unexpected weight, and I fall backward into the fountain.
Midway, I’m stopped.
A firm hand presses into the small of my back.
A chill runs up my spine.
When I slowly turn my head, I stare straight into the face of the guy hiding in his hoodie. But he has only one green eye and one icy white one covered by a gnarly-looking scar from his brow to his cheek.
And I can’t stop fucking staring at the one functional eye, sparkling and filled with regret. Hauntingly beautiful. Like he’s looked death in the eyes and returned from hell itself.
“Sorry!” Irina drags me away, pulling me out of the spell. “I got too excited.”
I don’t even know how to respond. I can still feel his fingers even though they’re no longer pushed into my flesh. Like a memory imprinted straight into my skin.
“Thanks,” I mutter over my shoulder at the guy who saved me from a dirty birdbath.
“Sure,” he replies, tucking his hand into his pocket.
But the glimmer in his eye makes it hard to look away.
Especially with the other guys staring at me over his shoulder. It’s like they’re deciding whether to let me walk or drown me in the fountain.
Fuck.
“Don’t look too long …” the one with the blond hair murmurs. “Or you might lose one too.”
My eyes widen.
Does he mean … my eye?
