Luke peruses his menu. “Cheese chips, please.”
“Oh” —I scramble to pull out my notepad—“right. Cheese chips. And for you?” I examine Jeanie in this close proximity. She looks like your average harmless skank,niceeven, like she might say sorry after she gave you VD.
“Same.” She waves me off and leans heavily into Luke as Thing One and Thing Two campaign shamelessly for his attention—by the way, Luke totally looks as if he’s enjoying it. Figures. Typical perv. And Cole thought this guy was an upgrade from Bryson? As if.
“Excuse me?” Jeanie cuts me a look that spellsdie bitch. “Do you have a staring problem?”
“Oh, no. Actually—”
“Just get our food would you?” Her ruby red lips snarl up at me as if warning me to keep my girl parts from her potential sheet-shaking session.
Luke looks up at me, his eyes expanding with embarrassment.
“Um…I was going to introduce myself,” I say, hesitantly as Thing One and Thing Two cheer me on with their incessant quivers. “I’mBaya Brighton.” I annunciate carefully in an effort to talk over the music blaring from the speakers.
Jeanie leans back and glares at me as if I’ve just firmly lodged a knife in her horizontal hula plans for the evening.
“Well,wereally don’t. Give. A. Shit.” She smacks Luke on the shoulder as she breaks out in a cackle.
“You know”—Luke shakes his head in disgust—“cancel my order, Baya.” He stands and leans in. “Sorry about that.” Luke takes off, leaving a horny as hell and just as pissed Jeanie Waters in his wake.
“Thanks a fucking lot.” She stands toe to toe with me as if I might actually entertain the idea of a bar brawl with her and her quivering tits—and, for a moment, I do.
“Looks like the magician pulled a disappearing act.” My lips give a wicked curl, and I don’t stop them. “Anyway, I was just trying to tell you thatI’myour roommate.”
“At Prescott?” Her forehead breaks out in three narrow lines of confusion.
“Yes,” I nod. “AtPrescott.”
Jeanie reaches to the next table and snatches the electric blue concoction Holt was working on earlier and thrusts it in my face. A small circle of gasps break out around us followed by a random round of applause while I blink and choke on the volatile brew.
“Youbitch.” I hold my arms out as the blue sugared goop drips down my fingers.
“That’s what you get for reporting me to the housing authority.” Thing One and Thing Two peek out from their frilly, lacy storehouse, surprised by this turn of events, because, clearly, I’ve offended them. “That was mysecondstrike, by the way. One more and I’m out on my ass, and I’ll be freaking homeless at Whitney Briggs.” She stalks off for the exit.
“Join the club,” I shout after her. “And I didn’t say anything”—it comes out weak—“my brother did.”
“Look at you.” Laney appears and starts mopping up my chest with a dishrag. “Making new friends already.” She dabs at my cleavage before making a face. “I think she died your skin blue. Oh, what the hell. It’s Halloween. You could be a Smurf.”
“Smurf.” I sniff into the idea. “And she’s the one worried about being homeless?” I shake my head incredulously as visions of her fornicating behind trashcans out in Founders Square blink through my mind. “Yeah, well, if I don’t get into Alpha Chi, I’ll be the one who’s freaking homeless at Whitney Briggs.” Well, not quite. I glance over at Bryson who seems to have thankfully missed the exchange due to the fact an entire gaggle of gorgeous girls have amassed around him. And sadly, tonight, we’ll have to go into covert ops if we plan on shaking the sheets ourselves. Just the thought of getting it on with my brother in the next room is enough to kill my lady boner.
Crap.
I’m pretty sure whatever the pearl wearing, evening gown toting Aubree Vincent has planned for me to do this evening, I will. I’ll leap through a thousand hoops of fire if I have to.
Like it or not, I’m Aubree’s little bitch tonight.
Happy fucking Halloween.
The moon hangs high over Hollow Brook like a silver scale as I drive Laney’s sedan to “the bridge” just shy of midnight.
“Where the hell is the bridge, anyway?” I whisper. Laney gave me weird directions, but once she mentioned it was just past the Witch’s Cauldron, I figured I could find it easily enough. She mentioned it was where Alpha Chi does all their bridging ceremonies. She also said she was secretly rooting for menotto get in—that too many oysters would be harmed if I did, per the mandatory pearl necklaces. She suggested I fashion Aubree’s demon strand into a noose and hang her from the highest bough, what with no witnesses around and all, but I balked at the idea. Aubree’s bitchy behavior is a small price to pay when crystal chandeliers and my own swanky sorority suite hang in the bounds. Plus, I don’t mind pearls. It’s not like they’re going to force me to wear them twenty-four seven. I’m just thrilled I’ll be living in a mini-mansion, far, far away from Jeanie and her never-ending bump and grind.
The Witch’s Cauldron comes up on my right, and visions of Bryson and his magic fingers working me into a sexual fervor take over my senses. God. I roll my head from side to side. I can practically feel his lips branding themselves over my neck, his hard abs pushed tight against my body—that amazing feeling I get when he’s high up inside me—well, other than the burning and the ripping.
I let out a breath as I park on the ridge behind the boulders. A dull smile plays on my lips. This is our spot. I can see the vapors emitting from the hot spring, and I’d like to think it’s steaming up from the memory of the two of us writhing over one another in the tiny heated well.
I get out of the car and stare at the dusty trail. Laney said to follow it up the stream about five minutes, and that when I see Aubree’s ugly face, I’ll know I made it.
