Ruin .(13)

    Amused, I raised my eyebrows. “But?”

    “I’m not like that,” she whispered.

    “Like what?”

    “That.” Her cheeks were stained pink. “I don’t hook up with guys.”

    “Oh, that.” I grinned at her embarrassment. “I don’t either.”

    “Huh?”

    “Hook up with guys. I’m not like that. So now that we’ve had that particular conversation, we can be friends.” I reached for her hand again.

    “I, uh—” She wasn’t able to finish her sentence, because one of my teammates had the worst timing in the universe and just happened to drive by.

    “Michels!” he shouted out his window. “Party at Kappa tonight!” He honked his horn and peeled out.

    “Friends?” she asked.

    “Worse.” I chuckled. “Teammates.” I stopped walking and touched her arm lightly. “You want to go to a different party?”

    “I should probably get back—”

    “Come.” I pulled her closer to me. “Just for a few minutes. I’ll introduce you to some upperclassmen, get you some milk, and have you tucked into your bed safely by midnight.”

    Her eyes narrowed.

    “Fine, I’ll have you tucked in alone. As in, without me.”

    Kiersten looked down the street. “Fine. Thirty minutes and don’t think I won’t use the rape whistle!”

    “Please,” I whispered. “Then when you return it I’ll know exactly what it feels to have your lips blowing across mine.”

    She flinched. “You can’t say things like that to me.”

    “Why?” I tilted her chin toward my face. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

    “Yes,” she whispered.

    “Fine.” I sighed.“I’ll just think them and look longingly in your direction every few minutes, sound good?”

    She laughed. “Whatever makes you happy.”

    “Whistles.” I nodded. “And redheads.” I reached for her hand again. “Virgins.” Interesting, her blush deepened as her hand clenched mine tighter. I was good at reading people and I’d bet my entire fortune she’d never even been kissed. It was why it made her uncomfortable. “Virgin lamb…” I sighed. “I may just sacrifice you on the altar.”

    “I’d rather not be sacrificed.”

    “You never know.” I gave her a cocky grin, “You may like it.”

    “You never know.” She sighed dreamily. “I may stab you.”

    “Fair.” I chuckled. “Now, let’s go. People to see, milk to drink, freshmen to corrupt.”





    Chapter Eight





    Things are never as they seem — ever.





    Kiersten

    I’d never been to a frat house. My only experience in even knowing what they looked like could be traced to the movies. You know, guys partying, people drinking, cups littering the lawn.

    What I didn’t expect was actual order.

    The music was loud, but the spread was insane.

    Alcohol was everywhere, food was everywhere, people were dressed like movie stars, and every single guy looked like he’d just stepped from a magazine.

    “Guys,” Weston put his hands on my shoulders and urged me forward, “This is Kiersten.”

    “Hey,” a few of them mumbled in greeting and smiled. They didn’t look like your typical jocks. In fact, most of them were sipping their drinks and discussing football, while the girls around them were happily chatting about classes.

    “Oh…” Weston tugged my hand. “And those guys over there who just walked in…” He pointed in the direction of two pretty big guys. One had black-rimmed glasses and a goatee, the other was at least six-foot-seven and lanky. Both appeared to be in their mid-thirties. “They work for me. Or my dad. However you look at it. You have any issues? Anyone bothers you here? You run towards them with the whistle, got it?”

    “Uh, sure, but why would anyone bother me?”