Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(37)

“Monogamy really isn’t in the Kappa dictionary.”

“Yeah.”

My hands tighten around her waist. “Fuck them. I’ll drive you to the police if you want to press charges.”

“No,” she says immediately, her body stiffening.

“Why not? They—”

“You don’t get it. You’re you. You’re rich. You have power. I’m a stripper. My mom is, well, let’s just say the police know who she is. I’d say one thing happened and every one of those guys would back Parker. They’d say I went up those stairs on my own. It’s a man’s world. Everyone else is just paying rent.”

“I’d back you.”

She looks stricken. “You’ve been so good to me. I’d never want to drag you into this mess.”

“I don’t care what people think about me.”

“You should. You’re a hockey star. People adore you. I won’t bring you down.” She chews on her bottom lip. “I shouldn’t have gone in there. I just wanted to check on Channing. He said he’d walk me home and he didn’t, so I went inside to see if he was with anyone.”

“Hey. It’s not your fault.”

“I know. I do. I just want to forget it. It’s funny—or not—but I thought men putting money in my underwear was awful, but Parker, he’s so much worse . . .”

My voice is gruff as I stroke her wrists. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No,” she says. “Don’t say those things.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t get in trouble for me! And I don’t want you to go to jail.”

He’s the one that should be in jail.

A long exhalation comes from me and I pull her closer. “Sorry. I won’t kill him.” Today.

“You wanna come inside?” I ask a few minutes later.

She shakes her head. “I should go home. I need a shower.”

A sound comes from my stomach and a little smile curls her lips. It takes my breath I’m so thankful.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

I grimace sheepishly. My eyes go to the park where the street trucks are. “I wouldn’t mind a sandwich. How about you? My treat.”

“There’s no way I can eat, but a hot chocolate sounds good. My shower can wait until afterwards.” She dips her head, almost shy as her hands play with the ends of my hair. “Can we wait a minute and just sit here? I-I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

My heart skips a beat. We’ve turned a corner somewhere.

I sense it.

She senses it.

If the blush on her face is anything to go by.

“Then don’t,” I say softly.





15





Julia





A few minutes later, we head to the food trucks, our hands laced.

Seeing Eric march into Parker’s room and push everyone aside plays through my head like a movie reel. I should probably go home, but I don’t want to be alone.

I keep seeing his fierce, pissed off face, his big fists, then his gentleness with me.

Part of me wants to report the incident to the police. I do. (I couldn’t report Connor, not without him putting me or my mom in a ditch.) But Parker . . . I’d love to see him get what’s coming.

Then I think about the notoriety that will fly at me from all directions.

The school, the media.

People will have opinions about how I’m a stripper and that I don’t really matter. They might not say it to my face, but they’re thinking it, even the authorities. Plus, a part of me has been told to keep silent my entire life, starting all the way back to grade school when they teach you not to tattle.

Is Johnny pulling your hair? He’s just playing. Go back to your seat.

I recall a teacher who required us to stand in front of the class if we wanted to tattle. I made sure I was never one of the ones who went up to tell on another student. Because afterward? Everyone is mad at you.

The only person who can support my story is Eric. And how can I drag him into a tawdry police investigation when he’s who he is? And after everything he’s done for me. No. I just can’t do that to him.

I push those thoughts away as people call out to him as we make our way to the parking lot of the food trucks. He nods and smiles, soaking in the accolades from the game. You’d never believe he was livid earlier.

People in line to order food step aside to let him go first. He gets his sandwich and we find a table.

“So, tell me about yourself,” he murmurs around a huge bite.

“I went to prep school with you for a year, dork.”

“Yeah, about that . . .” He sets his sandwich down. “This isn’t an excuse for what I did, but I was dealing with my brother’s death. My mom had gone to a psych ward and my dad was on my ass to bring my grades up. I pushed people away.”

I knew he’d lost a brother but . . .

“What happened? Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

He looks away from me and swallows. “Kurt had a secret life with heroin. None of us knew because he was in Boston. He was home for the holidays and went to make a buy. I interrupted them and he got shot. Died at the scene.” He rubs his face. “I blame myself.”