Page 43 of Under Her

She left a month ago. She got knocked up. Not by Wilder. By one of the guys on the football team. She went back home, wherever that is.

So, I have the room to myself. But the last time Wilder was in my room, it didn’t end so well for me, so, yeah, not happening.

The only option left was his frat house. We can work in the kitchen or whatever.

As I walk toward the address he gave me, I hear thumping music coming from inside. As I get closer, I see people out front, on the porch, drinks in their hands.

He’s having a party?

He knew I was coming. Granted, I’m two hours later than I originally said I would be, but I emailed him to let him know I had to change the time. And it’s only eight thirty now, and this party looks like it’s been going on for a while.

I hesitate, not sure what to do. Do I go in and find him? For what reason? We can’t exactly work while there’s a party happening.

But, now, I’m pissed. Because, if he was having a party, then he should’ve let me know, and we could’ve rearranged. But he definitely didn’t let me know because I quickly checked my email at work before I left, and there was nothing from him. I haven’t received a text or phone call from him either.

God, does he not ever take anything seriously?

My annoyance quickly turns to anger.

And that’s what has me marching up the front lawn and up the steps to the porch and through the open front door.

The house is full of people, drinking, dancing, and making out. Girls are wearing skimpy dresses, and I’m standing here in my work uniform.

I feel a stab of envy. I don’t party often…well, ever. I’m too busy with school and work to have a social life. And I’m not exactly rolling with the popular crowd, so my party invites are pretty rare…well, nonexistent.

I glance around, looking for Wilder. I see a few people I know from classes but no Wilder.

I walk through the living room and to the kitchen. Still no sign of him.

By this point, I’m pissed off and ready to go home, but I want to find him, so I can yell at him.

I grab a random guy and ask if he knows where Wilder is.

“Out back,” he tells me.

I make my way through the kitchen and let myself out back. There are some people out here, but I can’t see Wilder.

Then, I hear a female giggle to my left. I turn my head to find a pretty brunette pressed up against the house with Wilder leaning into her.

A flash of jealousy lances across my chest.

Almost as if he hears my pain, his head turns, and his eyes focus on me.

A smile creeps onto his lips. But it’s not a nice smile.

“A little late, aren’t you?”

“Late?” My brows furrow.

He steps away from the girl and turns to me. “Yeah, about two hours too late for our study session.”

“I emailed you to let you know I couldn’t make it and that I’d be coming now.”

His head tips to the side. “I didn’t get an email, Stickford. And, FYI, people generally text each other now. You know, cell phones.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and waves it at me.

The brunette giggles, which just pisses me off even more.

“I know, asshole. But I didn’t have access to my phone at the time, so I emailed.”