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“Stealing alcohol isn’t going to hurt them much.”
His lip quirked. “You’ve not seen how much alcohol is in there, and I don’t care. It’ll hurt the guy who’s supposed to be guarding the door. They’ll hurt him. One guy. I’d rather go in and steal their drugs, but figured I’d be pushing it enough asking your help for the alcohol.”
My hand squeezed again. He was right. Alcohol was one thing. Drugs were a whole other matter. He was also right that they’d hurt the guy guarding the door.
I let go of his arm, the tennis ball of emotion dipping to my chest. “The funny thing is that, even if Max joined this particular house, came to this college, and is a freshman, he still wouldn’t be the guy guarding the door. Legacies are treated like royalty in this fraternity.”
“I know.”
We did this, we’d be signing up for a guy to get hurt.
Maybe a black eye? Would that be it? Hazing?
He’d lose alcohol inventory guarding duty and have to clean bathrooms instead? Would that be his punishment?
My chest was burning up.
It wouldn’t be enough, not from who Max took from me.
“Let’s do it.”
Our jobs were simple.
The fraternity didn’t have any special security. It was a lock, so as Clint took out some tools to take off the doorknob—with bolt-cutters to get through if there was a secondary chain on the inside of the door, which Clint said he hadn’t gotten a good enough look so we were playing that part by ear—my job was to go inside the fraternity, find the guy guarding the door, and distract him.
My job was easy because it was already getting done for me. The guy had a girl wrapped around him, her legs, arms, and her lips were trying to devour him up. She kept trying to pull him away, but he kept insisting they stay at the door so while he was committed to standing by the door, he was good and distracted.
It was anticlimactic. It was so simply done, but I was still feeling it, my chest still burning because another house like this, the same Greek letters, and it would be where Max would attend. He’d go on, find another girl, and I was sure he already had another one, but he’d hurt her too. I had no doubt about that.
The look was in his eyes when he saw me.
He enjoyed taking away my father.
And he got away with it.
He’d do it again, and he’d get away with it.
And again.
And again.
It would go on and on, never-ending.
Everyone knew what he did to me.
They didn’t care.
They cared about Max more, about his family name, about their money.
The police sided with the Prestige family.
The school sided with Max.
My friends blamed me.
“You okay?”
I gasped, rearing back. The hatred burned so hard in me that I hadn’t realized I was blinking back tears. “What?”
A guy was there, looking concerned, a beer cup in hand. He was tall, over six feet, and he moved closer, bending over me. “You look upset.” His lips moved into a cocky smirk. “We can’t have anyone upset at our parties, much less someone as beautiful as you.”
God.
This guy even looked like Max. Same almost black hair. Wealth and privilege coming off him in waves. “Do you shop at the same stores?”
He frowned. “What?”
It was the shirt. Jesus Christ. It was the shirt.
Max wore this same shirt, all the time. It was his favorite.
I was now also getting why. It was a Rho Mu Epsilon shirt. The diamond crest on the collar was the same one from the house’s sign in front. I never knew that before.
“Never mind.” I wiped at my face. No way would those tears fall for Max. No fucking way. “I’ll have something to drink? Would you get me something?”
He took me in again, studying me before nodding slowly. “Sure. We have beer, but I could make you something else?” He took a step closer. “Something special?”
My insides stretched to the point where I thought I’d snap, but I only smiled. “Sure. Be creative.”
“No problem.” He hesitated and touched his thumb to the indent of my chin. It was a brief flick, but I felt branded by him. I’d not given him permission to touch me.
Asshole.
He lingered, his eyes on my mouth before he pulled away. “Don’t go anywhere.”
There was a poker around the corner behind me. I could take it and impale it up his ass, hoping it’d go far enough to reach Max himself, and thinking of that, my smile got a little easier. “Not planning on it.”
The second he was gone, I grabbed for my phone.
Me: I can’t stay in here much longer.
Clint didn’t answer right away.
Door guard and his girlfriend kept swapping saliva.
I kept waiting.
Still no answer.
Then, the guy was coming back with a drink in hand. There was no way I was going to drink that, but this guy wasn’t going to leave my side. He’d make sure I took at least one sip.
