He doesn’t respond, and I follow him as he heads toward the kitchen.
“I invited you, Bea. Did it ever occur to you that it’s not babysitting if I enjoy your company?” He elbows me playfully and I struggle not to succumb to his charm.
“You warned all of your friends to stay away from me, and you haven’t taken your damned eyes off me all night.”
I vaguely catch him muttering “no fucking kidding” under his breath.
“What?”
He glares at me for a beat, his expression inscrutable, before he sighs and gestures around the room. “Neither has any other guy here.”
I roll my eyes. Here we go with the paranoid, overprotective bullshit…
“And I didn’t tell anyone to stay away from you.”
I shoot him a skeptical look.
“I told them to respect you. There’s a difference.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I grumble.
“Come on, kid, these guys are looking for a hookup. ’The fuck do you need some guy trying to get you drunk and drag you to his bedroom for? ’The fuck do I need that for? To get into a fight with my frat brothers? Nah. It’s better that they’re warned.”
Frustration mixes with alcohol, surging through my inebriated body. “I’m not a kid!” I growl. “And you know what? It’s not about what I need or don’t need. And it’s definitely not about you, David. The point is I can handle myself without a fake fucking big brother making sure there’s nothing to handle!”
I stomp off, much like the kid I just swore I wasn’t. But what the actual hell? He wanted me to have some fun—to experience the social side of college, right? So here I am, and he’s put me in a figurative fucking bubble.
I hear him call after me, and even though he’s calling me Bea and not kid—even though it makes me want to turn back, I don’t. I head around a bend and spot Lani talking closely with a tall, dark, and very good-looking guy in a David Wright jersey. My kind of guy.
I wouldn’t interrupt them, but some other guy does it first, joining in on their conversation, so I do the same. Lani introduces me to her new friend Derek, who’s about two full heads taller than her and plays on our school’s baseball team. His skin is a deep mahogany that makes his unusual honey eyes stand out even more. The friend who interrupted them is Sal. He’s a more average height, but also pretty damned handsome, and I start to wonder if exceptional good looks are a prerequisite to pledge BEG.
“I’m Lani.” She introduces herself to Sal. “And this is my roommate—”
“Bea.”
Sal rakes me purposefully—almost predatorily—with his gaze. I don’t appreciate it, but it doesn’t especially bother me, either. Like I told David, I can handle it. Guys flirting blatantly in search of a one-night stand are not the danger. At least not to me. The danger lies in those who promise more.
“Bea.” Sal purposefully smoothes his voice. “That’s a pretty name.”
I fight an eye roll. Original. “Uh, thanks.”
“So, you’re a freshman?”
“Yep.”
“If you ever need someone to show you around campus—”
“She already has a fucking tour guide, Salvatore, thanks. And her name is Beth,” David interrupts from behind me. Sal’s face registers instant recognition. Great.
I huff and start walking away, but David grabs my elbow. “Bea, what the fuck?”
Oh, so he can call me Bea. “What?” I snap.
“What? How about Salvatore Tinelli is a fucking douche bag who likes to sleep with girls and then hide articles of their clothing just to make them endure public walks of shame.”
My stomach rolls with revulsion. What an asshat. But again—not the point. “I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself,” I remind David. As if I would sleep with that guy even if he weren’t a douche bag. I don’t even know him. We were just talking, for God fucking sake!
“Yeah, Bea, I know that.”
