Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(33)

I step outside in my Converse, shivering in the autumn chill. It’s a little before midnight, which means the Kappas are waist-deep in beer and women.

I head down the street and type out a text to Channing.

R u okay? Never mind getting me.

I walk the few blocks to Frat Row and head to the Kappa house, stopping in front of it.

Hovering on the sidewalk, I weigh my options. There’s nothing stopping me from going in. Sure, it’ll suck, because most of them don’t like me. Plus, I might see Parker or Scott. They might toss me out.

A prickle tiptoes down my spine. A tug, or an inkling, tells me to go inside.

I flip up the hoodie and keep my head low as I take the steps up to the porch and enter the house.

The first floor of the mansion is beautiful with mahogany paneling and a dust-covered chandelier that looks like something out of Victorian England—except for the drunk partiers dancing beneath it.

A fog machine puffs out smoke, reminding me of the strip club. A strobe light flashes, and I squint between each mad blink to check out the people. The party has dissolved into chaos. I catch a guy in the corner, eyes rolling back as some girl bobs her mouth on his cock. Another girl dances in her bra and panties, Red’s brunette friend. My mouth compresses.

Oh, the irony.

I catch sight of Parker near a stage, lording over it like a king surveying his domain.

It’s when I hit the bottom of the staircase that my real reason for being here solidifies in my head.

I need to know if Channing is in this for real or if I’m just a girl on a Kappa’s string.

And a party is the best way to find out.

At the top of the stairs, two lofty gatekeepers leer and step aside, as if giving me entrance to some magical kingdom.

As I walk down the hallway, I hear rhythmic banging and people moaning. I dated Parker long enough to know that’s normal background noise.

At a door at the end of the hall, I see a sign that says Channing. I stop and knock.

“Go away,” he mutters in a low voice.

Nope. I turn the doorknob and push the door open a sliver.

The light from the doorway illuminates the bed and the woman lying on it, her legs spread.

Channing is between her, his naked backside on display. He doesn’t stop fucking her, just turns and glares at me as he slurs his words. “I told you—” He blinks, then stops, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Julia! Shit! Shit!” He tries to scramble away from the girl but ends up falling off the bed.

I’m winded, a punch to the gut, some of it hurt, some of it anger. Mostly at myself.

How did I let myself believe for one minute that he was any different from Parker?

No, we weren’t in a committed relationship, but he led me on for weeks and for what? Just to throw it all away?

The girl pushes up in the bed, tugging the covers with her. “Are you his girlfriend?”

I laugh darkly. “Oh, he wishes.”

I walk to where he is, still prone on the floor. He sits up, leaning against the wall as he rubs his head. “Julia. I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can and I’ve heard it all before.” I crouch down and rake my eyes over him, taking in his flushed, sweaty skin. I gag at the lack of a condom.

I hold his blue eyes, the ones I thought were kind. “Listen good, Channing. Don’t call me, text me, think of me, look at me, or drive past my house. Whenever you see me, walk the other way. I’ll cut your dick off if you try to contact me.”

He licks his lips. “It was the tequila. I never should have had that last one. It wasn’t my fault. She flirted with me. She followed me up here—”

“Shhh, stop that.” I tap him on the cheek, not quite a slap, but I hope it stings. “There’s no excuse for lying just so you could get laid. I don’t need jack-offs like you in my life, okay?”

I glance over at the girl who’s hurriedly putting her clothes on. “No need to rush on my account.”

“Julia, wait . . .” comes from Channing as I leave the room and dart into a bathroom to calm myself. My hands clench in and out and my face is lobster red. I splash cold water on my skin, then look up at myself in the mirror.

I keep doing the same things, expecting different results. I let him in through the chinks in my armor. Why? I just wanted normal. A guy to date.

I point a finger at myself, my chest heaving. “That is the last time a man ever does you wrong.”

Downstairs, the place is clearing out. The music has stopped, and the chandelier glitters with light.

The second I hit the foyer, a broad-shouldered Kappa brother steps in my way. “Where you going? Come downstairs to the basement and let’s get you a beer.”

I sidestep him and go for the door. “No thanks.”

I try to move past him, but his hand latches on my wrist. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“Let me go—”

“Cute thing like you, you’re too serious. Come on, the after-party is more fun.”

“No.” I try to tear my hand away, but he’s too strong.

Someone behind me speaks, the tone full of wonder. “Julia.”

I know that voice. Too well.

Parker. I jerk away from the guy and turn to him.

He’s a gorgeous guy, tall and broad-shouldered with a big smile and dark hair that frames his All-American face.