Her eyes dart to the front of the line, which hasn’t budged an inch since I joined her, and back to me. “Fine. But I’m only going upstairs to use the bathroom.”
I’m not sure which one of us she’s trying to convince, but I grab her hand and lead her down the hall to the back stairs. Sutton’s hand is small and warm in mine, and despite the size difference, it works.
I climb the stairs slowly, stretching out this peaceful moment between us because I know the instant we reach the top, she’s going to slam a wall down between us again.
Sutton drops my hand the moment her boots touch the landing—no surprise there—and she looks up at me expectantly.
I crook a finger and lead her to the door at the end of the hall.
Up here, the house music is reduced to a dull thumping and though it’s dark, I have no trouble finding the key by touch. I slide my fingers along the top of the doorjamb until I hit pay dirt.
Noah, the Sig Chi president, always locks his door during parties, but Coop told me where to find the key ages ago—for emergencies.
I glance at Sutton as I slide the key in the lock.
She’s all but hopping from one foot to the other, a look of sheer panic on her face.
If this doesn’t count as an emergency, I don’t know what does.
I unlock the door and push it wide, gesturing for her to enter. Sutton steps inside and freezes. It’s pitch black, but it doesn’t take her long to find the light switch. She flicks it and a soft white glow fills the room.
It’s your basic frat bro starter pack.
Queen bed. Desk. Lots of Greek life paraphernalia and Waverly shit pinned to the walls.
To Noah’s credit, it’s spotless.
With a sigh of relief, Sutton disappears into the ensuite and closes the door behind her.
The water begins to run immediately and I try not to think about what she’s doing in there. Which is completely ineffective because now all I can think about is that short little skirt she’s wearing and what’s under it.
My cock swells and I curse.
If Sutton returns to find me with a raging hard-on, the ick factor will be high.
And it’ll totally validate every shitty thing she’s ever said about me.
I think about football, and church, and the wrinkly old dude who lives next door to my parents and probably has wrinkly old dude balls that haven’t seen a pair of trimmers since before I was born.
My cock deflates in record time.
Mission accomplished.
The bathroom door opens and Sutton steps out, looking far more relaxed. “Thanks.”
“It’s all good.” I flash her a wicked grin. “Despite what you think, I’m not a complete asshole.”
She rolls her eyes, but says nothing as she crosses the room, her boots clunking on the hardwood floor.
Before I know what I’m doing, I lean a shoulder into the doorjamb, blocking her escape.
Sutton freezes, shock and annoyance transforming her pretty face.
“Don’t you think it’s time we put an end to this game, Shorty?”
She steps forward, meeting me toe-to-toe. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” I lower my face to hers andfuck me. The desire to press her up against the wall and kiss her senseless is like a riptide pulling me out to sea. “You’ve got beef with me, and I want to know what I did to make you hate me so much.”
