I want to laugh because it’s something I’ve always felt.
“When you look like me, it tends to follow you.”
And I’m never sure anymore if the whispers are about the scar on my face or the other humiliating aspect of my life that still seems to follow me.
“Well, seriously, don’t let Mollie get to you. Take it from a Delta Nu; we aren’t all like that.”
“You’re in a sorority?”
My eyebrows raise, and I give her a once-over.
“Well, now, who’s the one being judgmental?” she teases, and I laugh.
“I didn’t mean it to sound—”
“So negative?”
I nod.
“I don’t blame you,” she adds. “Once you’ve encountered Mollie, it’s hard to see any of us in a positive light.”
“So, you don’t like her?”
“Just because we’re in the same sorority doesn’t mean we have to like each other,” Brinley begins. “I mean, for starters, she’s a bitch.”
I laugh—again.
“And she’s been trying to sleep with my brother since last year,” she says. “You know popular girls and their hockey fetishes.”
“Your brother’s on the hockey team?” I question, wondering how he feels about Declan. The residential man-whore, next in line to Zeke Harris, or at least that’s how the stories go.
“You could say that.” She grins, grabbing another pretzel. “He’s the Captain.”
“Oh shit.” It rolls out before I have time to stop it. They’rerelated.
“Yeah, I get that a lot. It’s hard having a brother with such a big—”
“Ego?”
She fights a smile. “Reputation. Once people find out I’m a Sanderson, he’s the only point of conversation after that.”
“I had no idea.” I pause before really looking at her. And the more I study her, the more I notice the similarities. Her hair is blonde, almost platinum, whereas Declan’s is dark. So dark, it’s almost black. But the eyes, they’re the same chocolatey brown color. And the smile… it’s identical.
“I try not to brag about it,” she jokes.
“I actually saw the two of you together today and—” I bite my lip, thinking about how to word this. “I thought that you were…together.”
Her nose scrunches in disgust. “Gross.”
She throws another pretzel in her mouth, like even the idea left a bad taste. Once she swallows it, she continues, “I mean, we’re close, but we aren’tthatclose.”
“I get it,” I add. “I mean, Cam is my best friend. One of my only friends, really.”
“Not anymore,” she says. “You get to add one more to that list.”
I go to say something else but don’t get a chance before another voice echoes from behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is because I can hear the resemblance in even their voice. His is much deeper, but it’s there.
“Brin?”
