I clear my throat. “No. I’m sorry for the disturbance.”
“Good.” She continues and levels her eyes at each fresh new face. “Let’s discuss the first matter of business. It’s recently come to my attention that one of our sisters has gotten caught up in the football betting hoopla. While we love the football players and want them at our parties, it only demoralizes a Chi Omega girl if we’re the brunt of the joke. Please be aware of this danger.”
My heart drops.
She’s talking about me.
Charisma, who’s been scrolling on her phone, puts it down and looks at me, her face flattening.
Some of the girls are whispering and looking around the room.
“…who was it…”
“…how awful…”
I inhale a sharp breath, embarrassed all over again that he almost had me convinced he really liked me. Just thinking about that stupid bet makes my face redden. Plus, I’ve been on pins and needles for the past few days wondering if the video Charisma said one of the players took would materialize and go all over campus, but it never did. Blaze swore to her he would make sure it was deleted, and I was just beginning to think the incident hadn’t gone any further—but now…ugh.
Margo exhales. “Since there are no secrets in Chi Omega, I feel compelled to tell you it was Penelope Graham.” Her gaze is flinty as she focuses on me.
Compelled my ass. She couldn’t wait to tell them.
My teeth grit as I hear more whispering from the girls around me.
I glare at Margo.
“Would you like to share the story with us and be our cautionary tale?” she asks, her lashes fluttering.
I push my legs to standing and scan the room. “Everything Margo says is true, but I beat him at his own game. My name won’t be on their tally board again.” I give them a smile. “Be vigilant this fall. Go Chi O.”
Margo studies me for a moment. “Indeed. Let’s move on.”
I want to shove her indeed up her ass.
“The next matter of business is the homecoming party. The Thetas will be hosting their own party, and as Chi Omegas, we must own Sorority Row and beat them. I want to make their party seem like a preschool outing.”
Several agreeing murmurs come from our sisters. There’s no love lost between us and the other sorority, and I imagine it pricks at Margo the most—since she lost her long-term boyfriend to a Theta last semester. Gossip runs rampant at our university, and it’s no secret she walked in on him screwing their president, a jersey chaser named Sasha.
Margo continues. “Our party will be the hottest ticket, and that means, first of all, invite the most popular guys.” She’s leaning over the podium and whips out a legal pad. “Personally, I’ve made a list of suggestions of people to invite, and I want us to ask as many as possible.” She gazes around the room. “If you’re willing, I’d love to have you pledge tonight to invite at least one A-list student from Waylon.”
I frown, annoyed about the A-list student comment. Connor probably isn’t on that list, but he’s a nice guy, and I want to ask him.
First, I’d have to talk to him, of course.
I raise my hand.
“Yes?” Margo grudgingly nods.
I stand again. “Who are you asking?” We all know it won’t be Kyle, her ex.
Margo’s lips compress and her hands tense as she folds them into a steeple. “Why, the most important person on campus when it comes to homecoming—the quarterback.”
Ryker? The jerk who made me the brunt of the joke?
Anger flies over me. “Football players go to the Tau house for homecoming. Everyone knows that.”
Margo, who usually sports infallible confidence, seems to falter as her hands flutter around her notes. She clears her throat. “Which is why it will be a great coup for us to get him.” She pauses. “I can convince him to come.”
I scowl. “We should invite people we want to spend time with, not ones we don’t know.”
She stiffens. “Maybe I’ll get to know him.”
Oh. Well.
That shut me up. I didn’t think he was her type.
She calls on one of the other girls who has her hand raised, and I plop back down in my seat.
Charisma levels me with a serious look. “If you don’t want him here, I can take care of that real quick. I have connections.”
I arch a brow and can’t help the grin. “Mobsters?”
She rolls her eyes. “Just because I’m Italian and from New York doesn’t mean I’m John Gotti, but one well-placed word in Blaze’s ear and Ryker will never grace our party with his presence.”
“Blaze?”
She shrugs, playing it off. “He likes me. I’m sure I can get him to encourage Ryker to stay at the Tau house.”
Hmmm.
I whip out my red lipstick and reapply, my mind churning. “Hold off on that. I’ll get back to you.”
Penelope
After dinner out at the local pizza place with some pledges, we pull up at our house, the one I grew up in, a rambling cottage-style bungalow built in the 50s. In the light of the streetlamp, I eye the late summer azaleas in the flowerbed, the ones Mom and I planted before she passed away.
A heavy feeling settles on my chest. God, I miss her. Sometimes I forget she’s gone and half expect her to be inside, waiting on me so we can have one of our long chats. She’d know exactly what to do about Dad and Margo and Ryker.
“What’s that next to the door?” Charisma asks me as we step onto the stone porch. She’s ahead of me and bends down to pick it up. Turning to face me, she holds up a bag of suckers with a note stuck to it. “Oooo, it has your name on it,” she says, waving it at me.
I take the note from her and read the sloping masculine scrawl.
I came by at 8:00. I guess you stood me up. Makes sense. I hope we’re even now. Anyway, I thought of you when I saw these.
Later, Ryker.
The R is prominent and dominates his signature, big and cocky just like he is.
“Why is he leaving you your favorite candy?” Charisma ponders, an inquisitive look on her face. “Have y’all talked and you didn’t tell me?”
“No.” My brow wrinkles, a memory tugging at me, and then it dawns on me and I groan. “Oh my God, he texted me earlier, but I didn’t know who it was…” I whip out my phone and reread the messages while she takes them in from beside my shoulder. I recall the phone number he tossed down on my serving tray at Sugar’s, but it got dumped out along with everything else. Then I remember giving him my number. “These must be from him.” I rub my forehead.
She chuckles. “WTF? You told him you wanted him.”
Mortification flies over me. “Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t know it was him. I thought he was some lonely guy pining after some girl.” My face reddens. “I thought I was helping someone out with his relationship woes.”
“That would be a BFN—big fat no.” She holds the bag of suckers up to the porch light. “Look, he drew something on the side of the bag.”
I take the candy from her and study the sketch. It’s a creature with a long neck, small ears, and an oblong body with fuzzy stick legs drawn in black marker.
“I can’t figure out what that is supposed to be.” She looks at me. “Is he deranged? Should we call the cops?”
“No.” A small laugh comes from me. “It’s a llama.”
“Oh?”
I shrug. “Inside joke.”
Lying in bed later, I’m reading a romance book about a pirate, but my gaze keeps going to the note and the bag of candy on my nightstand. With a sigh, I put down the book and pick up the note—for the third time—tracing my finger over the confident strokes of his penmanship. The candy was a nice touch, but it hardly excuses what he did.
I nibble on my lip, thinking back to the sorority meeting and how Margo vowed she’d get Ryker to attend. He did say he wanted to make up for what happened, so what if I invited Ryker to the party? I mean, I can also ask Connor, but if I wrangled Ryker then everyone would know the bet fiasco is over and didn’t bother me at all. I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed, and everyone would think we’re…friends.
But that’s just silly, my inner voice says. You hate him.
Do I?
YES, YOU DO.
But my fingers aren’t listening as I grab my phone and type out a message to him.
Got your note. We’re not even close to being even, Baby Llama. And before when I was texting you, I didn’t know who you were. I was just messing around.
I don’t get a response for several minutes and am about to put my phone back down when I see the three little dots that tell me he’s responding.
I still want to make it up to you.
Visions of him ravishing me on my bed come to mind. I squash those thoughts down.
How? I ask.
I’ll explain tomorrow. It’s midnight and I need to be at practice by six. That means breakfast is at five fifteen.
Oh! I didn’t realize he was so…conscientious. I guess I pictured him with two girls on either side, being rubbed down with oil as he drifts off to sleep.
Sorry I woke you, I text.
You didn’t. I was lying here thinking about you.
A sizzle of heat ripples through me. Damn that sizzle.
Oh, so you’re alone?
Uh-huh. You? Or is Connor there?