Elite (Eagle Elite #1)(15)

“N-no,” I stuttered. “No one made fun of me today.”

“I guess my point is made.”

“The hell it is.” I bent down and picked up another pillow to throw at his face. “You think you have that much power? To protect me from them? You think you’re that much better? That what you do is better than what typical college kids could do to me?”

His eyebrows rose. “Care to make a wager?”

“Fine!” I poked him in the chest.

Nixon closed his eyes as if in pain. “Please don’t touch me.”

I backed off but only because he said please.

“I’ll stop bothering you… but when I win — when you can’t take it anymore — when you are living in hell every single day, I want to hear it from your lips. Not Monroe’s, not Chase’s. I want you to approach me. I want you to tell me…”

“Tell you what?” I whispered.

“That you need me.”

“When hell freezes over!” I snapped.

“Bring a parka, because life’s a bitch and you just bought a first class ticket, sweetheart.”

I was still in a crappy mood when Monroe finally arrived. True to his word, Nixon sat outside, at the door waiting for her. Why he didn’t text her or call her I have no idea.

I couldn’t really hear what they were saying. But Monroe was yelling, and Nixon was yelling, and I was pretty sure one of them was going to throw a punch.

So I was really surprised when Monroe bounced into the room with a wide smile on her face. “Guess what!”

“You killed your brother?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not that lucky, no.” With a huff she sat on her bed. “The Elect are throwing a party tonight and I get to bring you!”

Excuse me while I pull out my pom-poms. “Swell.”

“Boots, don’t go raining on my parade. Besides, Tex will be there and…”

I raised an eyebrow.

She flushed. “Fine. I like Tex. Happy?”

“Does Satan know?”

“He sees all,” she grumbled.

“Is that why you guys were fighting?”

“What should I wear?” Monroe clapped her hands. “I don’t want to look too easy, but I still want to look hot, you know? Hmm, maybe a red dress? You think? With Loubuitan heels?”

“Uh… Louib—who?” I laughed. “You’re beautiful in pajamas. Just wear something you feel confident in.” I didn’t miss that she changed the subject, but I decided maybe it was best if I didn’t know all of the happenings of their family.

Monroe began pulling clothes from her closet and tossing them onto the floor. Finally, she chose a purple dress with a plunging front and back. Only it was covered with some sheer material so technically it could not be defined as slutty.

I did say technically.

“Your turn.”

“Um, I have a lot of homework and—”

“—Nope, you’re going. Nixon said you could.”

“Oh well, if the great and powerful OZ said I could go….”

Monroe threw her head back and laughed. “Can we please call him Oz from now on?”

“Sure, he’d love that.” I smirked. “He’d probably threaten me again.”

“Whatever.” Monroe rummaged on the floor and grabbed a tight t-shirt and short jean skirt. “Here.” She tossed them at my face.

I caught them. Both pieces of clothing were smaller than the tank top I wore to bed. How was that supposed to work?

“Um, Monroe, this outfit is kind of—”

She rolled her eyes. “Wear flip flops so you don’t look as tall, and we’ll give you a leather jacket. It will look awesome. Trust me.”

I wasn’t sure I could trust anything coming from her mouth, considering she was the one wearing a purple get up that would make the Jersey Shore blush.

“Are you sure I should go? I don’t know, Nixon and I got in a fight and—”

“I need you!” She stood to her full height and stomped her foot. “I need a wing person.”

“For Tex? You’re kidding right?”

“Please?” She jutted out her bottom lip.

I glared, but she kept giving me that pitiful stare of hers. “Fine, I’ll go.” I had a really bad feeling about this party.





Chapter Eight Note to self — if you have a bad feeling about something… If your gut is twisting at the idea of following through with a bad choice… Just say no. Do not be a yes person. I closed my eyes and opened them again. Maybe if I closed my eyes I’d become invisible. I tried it again. Nope. No such luck. Crap.

“Monroe, I should go,” I yelled above the music.

“No! Stay!” She was dancing with Tex. I mean, I guess you could call it dancing. His hands were everywhere, and honestly I was waiting in anticipation for Nixon to punch him in the nose for holding his sister that close.

But Nixon was nowhere to be found.

Not that I was looking for him.

And even if I was looking for him, it was only out of self-preservation and survival. Like on the Discovery channel, when the antelope see a lion. They don’t just hang out and give the lion a chance. No, they run like hell.