Jules rolls her eyes. “We’re in the dining hall. There’s no beer here.”
“I don’t care. This is too juicy to wait.”
Hoes Over Brews is what we call our girls’ night. Good pints and good advice from friends have gotten us through some dark times during the first two years of college.
“You realize you have what everyone on campus wants,” Kat states.
I glance at my meal. “A chicken Caesar salad?”
“A direct line to the hottest guy on campus. One that would make Adam look like a pussy.”
Heat traces down my spine at the idea of hooking up with Sawyer.
“He’s a professor. That’s strictly forbidden.”
Kat’s eyes glint. “And totally hot. You should bang him.”
“You would say that.” My roomie has a habit of leaping first, looking…never? But it’s impossible to blame her, especially given how she spent most of her childhood.
“He’s gorgeous, but it’s dangerous,” Jules says. “Russell U isn’t the kind of place to look the other way.”
“It’s exactly the kind of place to look the other way,” Kat argues. “Besides, Liv’s dad is a major donor.”
“Which means he wouldn’t appreciate hearing about a faculty member giving it to his baby girl,” Jules insists.
I hold up a hand. “Leaving parents out of this, what self-respecting woman would fuck their professor?”
Kat props her chin in her palms, blinking with mock innocence. “The kind of woman who gets off on the power dynamic as much as he does.”
A shiver of anticipation runs through me.
“Kat, I have enough people telling me what to do in my life.”
Besides, any interest Sawyer had in me is gone now that he knows I’m a student. And there’s no way I’d sleep with him after the shit he gave me in class and about Adam.
Last night all I saw was the mysterious, intense, reckless side of Sawyer Redmond. Today, I got the stubborn, demanding asshole side.
So why do you still want to text him back and tell him you and Adam are done? That him calling you babe was just Adam being Adam?
“You’ve dated Adam as long as you’ve owned a vibrator,” Kat responds. “So I’m going to let you in on a bit of secret wisdom as someone who’s eaten a lot more...variety. Taking orders in your personal life, like where to go to school or who to date? Not sexy. Taking them in your private life…” She dangles her spoon, batting her eyes and licking its length before Jules grabs it out of her hand. “You might like it.”
Omega parties are the epitome of Greek life.
Jules and Kat and I spend an hour getting ready before heading over to Greek Row.
I’m still seething over Sawyer’s texts. I’ve read the last one so many times I can see it when I close my eyes.
If that’s who you spend your time with, it’s no wonder meeting a real man does it for you.
I wish he didn’t do it for me, but he does. He says he’s setting boundaries, meanwhile he’s trying to provoke me.
We’re heading up the steps of the frat house when I turn to take a pointed, duck-faced selfie with a throng of partiers visible over my shoulder.
I type out a text and send it along with the picture.
Liv: Just checking that you approve of who I’m spending my time with, Professor.
Adrenaline surges through me as I hit send.
I jump when my phone buzzes in my hand.
It’s not him, though. It’s my mom.
“Olivia. What on earth did you say to Adam? I hear you had a disagreement.”
I swallow the groan. How did word get back to her this fast?
“It was more than a disagreement—“
“I don’t want to hear it! You know who his parents are.”
They own the biggest construction firm on the East Coast. My dad’s in finance, and this particular merger of families would make up for the fact I was born with a vagina.
I picture my mother’s unlined face, her filled lips. She had me at twenty-five, and now at forty-five, she still blames me for her near-perfect figure being marred.
“I know what happened,” she says at last.
“You do?” I didn’t expect her compassion, but God, do I want it.
“Engineering is too demanding. It’s shifted your priorities. Your father and I agreed to let you pursue this. But we’re concerned for your well-being. College is a stressful time, and you’re not making good decisions.”
The lawn is full of already-drunk partiers, and I brush an invisible piece of lint off my skirt with sober hands.
“I’m worried about Emma,” she goes on. “She’s barely talked about cheerleading this year, and she’s started socializing with some less than appropriate students at school.”
My stomach clenches. My amazing sister, a junior in high school, is sensitive and creative. I can’t stand the thought of anyone—including my mom—crushing that out of her.
“You should be a better example for her,” Mom goes on.
“She’s a teenager, she’s figuring out who she is.”
“The rebellion is not appreciated. You never rebelled like that.”
Not in public.
“I’ll talk to her when I’m home on the weekend,” I say at last. “And I’ll talk to Adam, too.”
I hang up, frustrated as I stalk through the frat house and into the backyard.
I’m not taking him back, but my mom will lose her shit if she finds out we split without me warming her up to the idea first.
A text appears on my screen.
Unknown: I was wrong.
Liv: So now you approve of the company I keep?
Unknown: No. Wrong when I said you were beautiful and wise.
Because a girl with a brain can’t go to a frat party?
Unbelievable.
As I shove the phone away, a guy in boxers and a beanie with the frat’s logo bearing a tray of shooters steps on my foot as he stumbles past. Pain shoots up my leg and I suck in a breath, cursing.
My gaze follows to see him set the shots on a floating raft in a kiddie pool.
Adam and some friends are next to the pool, Solo cups in hand. A cheer goes up at the sight of new drinks but I’m only focused on my ex.
I stalk over, my heels sinking into the soft grass. “You told my mom we had a fight?”
He’s wearing a Lacoste polo I got him for his birthday in the same blue color as his eyes. He checks me out in that quick way people do when they’ve been together a while. “My mom wanted to confirm I was going to your parents’ for dinner this weekend. I said I wasn’t sure the invitation still stood.”
I’m about to let it slide when I glance past him to see the blonde who walked out of his room, heading over with two cups.
She doesn’t notice me as she grabs the back of his collar, reaching around to pass him the cup. “Fucking love this shirt on you.”
No. This is not happening.
I shove him backward, and he grabs for her. Their arms windmill as they land ass-first on the raft in the kiddie pool.
Hollers go up, and as petty as my action was, it feels good. As if for once, I exerted force on the world and it responded.