I Bet You(40)

“Oh!” Sasha looks over at me as if just noticing I’m here. She smiles. “Have we met?” Her long lashes flutter against her porcelain complexion.

Several times. “Yes.”

She squints. “Wait. You’re a Chi O, right?”

I nod. “I’m Margo’s stepsister.” Never in my life have I been proud to own that one. But the thing is, when you screw over a Chi Omega, the girls will line up behind her to get you back.

“Oh.” She laughs, the sound grating on my nerves. “I suppose she doesn’t like me very much.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Just tell her Kyle was a one-time thing, will ya? No harm, no foul. She can have him back.”

My eyes narrow, but my voice is sugary sweet and oh so Southern. “Sweetie, she doesn’t even know who you are.”

She cocks her head. “Oh. Really? That can’t be right. I’m sure she knows—”

“Mmmm, oh yeah, she’s moved on to bigger and better. But how nice for you to tell me it was just a one-time thing.” I smile brightly. “Take care now. Use condoms.”

I hitch my backpack up on my shoulder, give Ryker a smoldering glare, and walk off.

If that’s the kind of girl he goes for—my fists clench—then what on earth does he see in me?

Ugh. Why does it even matter? Neither of us is going to act on it.

Ryker calls my name, but I don’t stop.

I hear footsteps behind me. It’s him. “Hey, why did you run off like that? We were in the middle of making plans.”

My jaw tenses.

“Red. Come on. I told her to buzz off.”

My voice is sharp. “Like that makes it better? How many girls on this campus have you been with?”

He flushes. “I never claimed to be a saint. I’m not the same person I was last year.”

I snort. “I didn’t see you in a rush to get away from her.”

“I was being polite!”

I halt and look at him. “You shouldn’t have been!”

His mouth parts at my vehemence, but I take off walking again and he keeps up with me.

“Why are you so upset?” he asks. “Are you jealous?”

“Get over yourself.” I’m breathing hard as I walk-jog.

He takes my arm and pulls me to a stop. “You are. You can go on and on about Connor and how perfect he is, but if a girl stops and says hi to me, you storm off. Why is that?” He studies me intently. “Don’t you think that means something?”

We stare at each other for several seconds. My chest is rising and so is his, and I almost feel that if I took one tiny step toward him he would wrap me in his arms and kiss me so fucking hard.

“Red. Say something.”

No. He’s the one who left my house; he’s the one who said he didn’t want to hurt me.

“What are you thinking, Penelope?” His voice is layered with emotion.

It’s as if he needs me to tell him something, to pour my heart out to him.

But I can’t. I won’t.

I inhale a sharp breath. “This distraction needs to get to the library.”

I pull my arm away and take off in a full-on run. I probably look ridiculous running in flats and juggling a backpack, but it is what it is.

My eyes close briefly as I hurry toward the library.

God help me. I can’t fall for him.

I just can’t.





Ryker



A few hours later, I’m in my dorm room, stewing after seeing Penelope. I clench my fists and pace around my bedroom. Fuck, I’m antsy, and all I can think about is how pissed she was about Sasha and how amped up I am that I can’t get her to admit she wants me just as much as I want her. It doesn’t matter that she’s a distraction right now. It doesn’t matter that I’ve sworn I won’t get involved with anyone.

She’s just…different.

My eyes land on a framed picture of my dad and me at my last high school football game, and my lips twist. If I had a solid relationship with him, maybe I could call him up and talk about this pressure I feel to be the best, to be a top pick in the draft. But my dad isn’t the kind of guy you open up to. Plus, he’s still disappointed in me after the fighting scandal.

My chest is heavy and I scrub my jaw. There’s no one to talk to, really, about Penelope. Blaze is too immature, and Maverick lives with Delaney now so I barely see him. And Dad? Ha. He thinks women are for sex only. Guess I can’t blame him considering how my mom left us.

I get a text and grab my phone.

It’s from Blaze. Dude. Your girl is here at the Tau house.

My girl?

Penelope, asswipe.

I exhale.





On my way.


I hop in the shower, and twenty minutes later I’m out the door and headed to my truck.

The frat house is thumping with the strains of Post Malone as I walk in the door. It’s a full-scale party with people everywhere, open pizza boxes on the counter, and a keg in the kitchen. I grab a red plastic cup of beer and head to the basement where most of the people like to congregate.

Penelope is the first person I see, and I pause mid-step on the stairs and nearly spit out my drink when I get a gander at what she’s wearing: a plaid miniskirt with a fitted white collared shirt. The buttons are done all the way to the top and a little scarf thing is tied around her neck. Schoolgirl. At first glance, it’s demure, but then I look down and see her high-heeled black boots. Good God. My teeth snap together. Her auburn hair is curled and in pigtails, and she’s not wearing her glasses—a clear sign she’s on a mission.