Midnight is Riley’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. The rumor is that Midnight burned down the house of a guy interested in Riley. That tatted, gorgeous sex on sticks is crazy.
Dare? He’s crazy on another level. Brooding. Quiet. Observant. He’s unpredictable compared to Midnight. Is Gwen interested in Dare? I caught her looking at him over her red Solo cup when we crashed the dirty trio’s insane parties. I’d never seen Gwen look at a guy with longing, curiosity, and anger before.
What did Dare do to her? Dare is Syn’s best friend, and I could ask her, but she’s loyal to her core to Dare and would never discuss his personal life. She’d tell me it was a Gwen problem, and she wouldn’t be wrong. We girls guard our private lives like squirrels guard their stash of nuts, which makes us peas in a pod. Peas. Pods. Nuts. Balls. Penis. Heat creeps up my face. My two-year dry spell is messing with my head.
“Why should we date from the DU pool when you’re not taking advantage of the options, either?” I slide my gaze to Arie. She’s dressed in weather-appropriate pink shorts and a flowery white short-sleeved top. “Unless you and Cooper moved beyond your friend zone and we’re the last to know.” Cooper is Arie’s best friend and the kicker for DU’s football team.
There isn’t a peep from Arie, not even her side-eye. I move on to the true source of her angst.
“I remember meeting you when your hair was cut to your ears. Now look how long it is.” Down to the small of her back. “I love it, Arie, but please don’t tell me you did it for him.” What’s with her love-hate for Riot, one of DU’s hot and single rugby players?
I grasp Arie’s hair and twist the ends between my fingers. Arie told us Riot bullied her all through high school. What he enjoyed most was coming up from behind and yanking on her hair so hard that tears stung her eyes. He did it so often that she finally had enough and hacked off her hair. That’s what she told us after getting wasted on shots of Fireball.
Then why look at him with longing? He tormented her.
Personally, I wouldn’t give him the time of day, but he’s been living rent-free in Arie’s head since freshman year, which tells me Arie isn’t over what Riot did to her.
“I’m not sure what you’re speaking of.” Arie side-eyes me.
I groan. This girl is in denial. I start to call her out, but the rugby team walks onto the field and struts their stuff. The stands erupt with cheers, whoops, and hollers. I cover my ears.
Xander Brody, the team captain, leads the charge, with his friends Galley Rutherford and Zeke Harrington flanking his sides. The coeds jump up and down and wave their hands, trying to snag the attention of the “dirty trio.”
The guys are dirty for different reasons.
Xander Brody, with his panty-melting smirk, is known to only sleep with coeds with experience in the sack and avoids the ones with their V-cards. Does the guy have a built-in radar for virgins? Geez.
Zeke Harrington is a one-and-done guy with the hashtag #ZekeHarringtonOneandDone. He sleeps with a girl once, and only once. The word commitment must be a dirty word in his vocabulary of f-bombs, bruh, and bro.
Galley Rutherford? Galley is filthy rich. So is Zeke. But Galley isn’t a one-and-done. He prefers sex with multiple partners and likes to copulate numerous times in a day. The guy has stamina.
But Arie isn’t interested in any of the three. In the corner of my eye, I watch her follow a guy’s movements with her head. I zone in on the guy Arie is checking out.
Riot O’Sullivan. Tall. Ripped. Jet-black hair. Intense green eyes. Commitment issues. He stretches his long legs and holds his arms high above his head, pointing his fingers at the sun. With a twist of his magnificent torso, Riot gives the enthralled coeds a view of his pecs and six-pack abs.
I scrunch my face. That boy should put on a shirt.
I shield my eyes from the sun and shoot Arie a sideways glance. Her jaw is clenched, and her hands are tight balls in her lap.
“Arie Kim, did something happen between you two at Galley’s party?” Every muscle in my body is tense.
The end-of-semester party was three months ago. Galley and his teammates throw the wildest parties at the house he owns a few blocks from campus.
Her silence isn’t reassuring.
“Do I need to kick some rugby dude’s ass? Do I need to kick Riot’s ass?”
“Violence isn’t the answer,” Arie says in a soft voice.
It was in the world I grew up in. Violence was the answer to having the upper hand until Carlos lost it and his life.
“Did he?—”
“No, he didn’t hurt me that way. Jesus, Ever, you can be so persistent.” Arie sighs. “But yes, something happened. It wasn’t anything bad. I just don’t want to talk about it. I’d rather he not exist.”
I understand wanting to make something go away. I would love to forget parts of my past, but forgetting would mean letting go of Carlos, and I’m not ready to do that. Not until justice is served.
“Riot?” I glance around like I’m searching for something. “Riot who?”
