Revenge Love Read online

  Jason lets out a sigh, closing his eyes again. “On the nights you’re with him, you inevitably end up knocking on my door at whatever middle-of-the-night hour you get back. And then I have to be awake for another hour while we just stare at each other. I figured if I was already here, you’d have whatever company you need from me, and I can get some sleep.”

  Shock and more than a little horror grips me. “I-I don’t do that.”

  Without opening his eyes, Jason raises a brow. “Yes, you do.”

  Shit, really? Do I really do that? I’m not going to completely lie to myself and say I wouldn’t mind some cuddling after sex, but I’ve never sought physical comfort from Jason. We’ve never even hugged in all the years we’ve been friends.

  “How did Rosie get your number?”

  He shrugs on his side. “We’ve hung out at the bar a couple of times after you bailed on us for your fuck toy. For a sorority chick, she’s pretty cool.”

  “Hey!” I punch him on the shoulder. “I’m a sorority chick.”

  Jason just laughs. My feeble hit bounces off his slab of muscles like a toddler trying to take down a Ninja.

  “If you and Rosie hang out so much when I’m not around, and you’ve obviously exchanged numbers, then why aren’t you her fuck toy?”

  Finally, he opens his eyes, only to narrow them, then subtly shake his head. “Nope. Not going there,” he mumbles.

  A smile creeps across my face. “Banged once or twice and discovered you two aren’t sexually compatible?”

  He yawns. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

  Wow, really? I was only kidding.

  Jason closes his eyes again, pulling my afghan over his shoulder. “Are we done talking now?”

  “You said on the nights I show up at your door, we don’t talk.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Why are we talking now?”

  “Because you won’t shut up and go the fuck to sleep.”

  I tap my fingers against my still-swollen lips. “Let me get this straight. I’ve been unconsciously using you for company after my…sessions with Kieran. You’ve known all along, and yet you continued to let me without calling me out on it. I apparently have been robbing you of sleep on these particular nights, even though we don’t discuss anything. Is that right?”

  “That about sums it up,” he grumbles.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know why you do the things you do. If you want an analysis of your behaviors, ask Rosie. She’s the psych major.”

  Discomfort creeps up my spine. If I can’t understand myself, I’d like to at least know the motivations of the people I call my friends. It’s bad enough I was living a lie with Kieran. “I meant why do you let me do this? I honestly didn’t realize I was. You’re obviously losing out in this scenario. Why didn’t you just not answer the door, or turn me away, or tell me to fuck off so you could go back to sleep? At the very least, you could have asked me why I was doing this.”

  Jason’s eyes pop open. His pupils swallow all the color in his irises in the lack of light. “Emma, do I look like the heart-to-heart discussion kind of guy to you?”

  I rear my head back. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I don’t want to know why,” he supplies.

  That seems like the Jason I know. Distant, but ultimately my friend. He could have done any of my suggestions. The strongest urge to break the unwritten rules of our friendship causes my limbs to twitch. I reach my hands out, intent on hugging him but pull away at the last second. Luckily, he’s trying to sleep. He won’t have noticed that close call.

  “If you’re going to be such a stand-up guy, at least sleep in my bed. You’ll be more comfortable than on the couch.”

  Jason rolls over, giving me his back and no more words.

  “Seriously. You take my bed, and I’ll sleep out here.”

  “Kicking you out of your own bed will completely destroy your fantasy of me being a stand-up guy,” he grumps.

  There he goes, making assumptions about my fantasies again. “Fine. We can share the bed. It’s a queen size. No risk of touching or catching my cooties.”

  He snorts. “It’s not your cooties I’m worried about.”

  “What’s the problem, then?”

  “I have zero desire to know what Kieran King’s cum smells like.”

  And to think, I almost wanted to hug this animal. I snatch the afghan off him and stalk to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me before stripping off my clothes and throwing them in the hamper.

  I always shower right away after being with Kieran. And he always uses a condom.

  Truth: No one looks back on their life and remembers the nights they got plenty of sleep.

  “Did you see who showed up?” Rosie shouts over the bone-jarring bass from the speakers wired throughout the house.

  I shake my head and take another small sip of Jungle Juice. This stuff is dangerous. Phi Kappa’s undoubted claim to fame on campus, their proprietary party drink tastes like juice but packs an invisible punch. Mounds of fruit, sliced and thrown into a large plastic storage bin, absorb alcohol the entire day before the party. When the drink runs low, people eat the liquor-laden bites, keeping their buzz going well into the wee hours of the morning. It’s also a bonus quenching of the inevitable drunken munchies.

  “Jason is here,” Rosie announces proudly. Her devious smile suggests she had something to do with this miracle.

  A stab of jealousy heats my chest. I have no problem with their friendship. I do take offense to them keeping me in the dark about it. “How did you manage that?”

  “What makes you think I had anything to do with it? It’s not like I’m his BFF. Maybe he decided to be social all by himself.”

  I snort over that unlikely scenario. “The jig’s up. He told me last weekend you’ve been texting him. I know you two are friends.”

  “More like two degrees of Emma Hastings.” She bumps into my shoulder, not caring our drinks slosh over the rims of the cups. In all fairness, my shoes stick to the floor every time I take a step, so I don’t think anyone will notice our party foul.

  “Hysterical,” I deadpan. “Seriously. How did you do it? I’ve been begging for weeks.”

  If she has any insight on how to make Mr. Grumpy Pants more tolerable, I’d love to hear it.

  Rosie shrugs, her voice completely serious when she answers, “Blackmail.”

  It really shouldn’t have shocked me these two have become friends. They have a dark streak that’s both endearing and slightly scary. I absolutely do not want to know what she could possibly have on him to twist his arm into attending this party.

  “When did he get here? I haven’t seen him all night.” I scan the bodies packed into the Phi Kappa house. Admittedly, the lighting is purposely dim, but his six-foot frame and dark countenance would be hard to miss even in the foggiest conditions.

  Rosie looks around, too. “I saw him come in a few minutes ago.”

  I don’t want to appear too eager in front of Rosie since I’m less sure than ever of the nature of her relationship with Jason, but every inch of my skin itches to see him in the flesh. After three years of begging, pleading, rationalizing, arguing, flat-out demanding…he’s at a party.

  “God.” Rosie makes a gagging face, then gives me a little push. “You’re practically twitching with excitement. Go find him already.”

  Am I that obvious? “I just can’t believe he’s finally here! I feel like I should have been waiting at the door with my camera, ready to capture the moment for posterity.”

  Rosie wrinkles her nose in disgust. “What are you? His mother? I never realized your relationship with Jason is as dysfunctional as the one with Kieran.”

  That all-too-true statement takes the wind out of my sails. I don’t want Rosie to mistake my support for pity, though.

  “It’s a big deal. He’s been a loner since I met him. He never went to parties in high school that I know of. Didn’t participate
in a single extra-curricular activity. Sat by himself at lunch. Showing up here tonight is a big step for him. I only meant he shouldn’t have had to do it alone.”

  Rosie chugs the rest of her drink in several large gulps. “Why would he want to do any of those things? Can you imagine how hard his life has been, dealing with the constant stares and whispers? People are assholes, honey. Even the strongest soul would crack under that kind of scrutiny, day in and day out. I don’t blame Jason one bit for keeping his distance.”

  Something about her words strikes a chord with me. Is that why Jason keeps me at arm’s length? He thinks I’m one of the many who judge him as inadequate somehow? “If you’re so understanding about his solitary lifestyle, then why did you blackmail him to come tonight?”

  She shrugs, then grabs my hand to lead me toward the kitchen for a refill. “Just because I understand his motivation doesn’t mean I agree with it. At some point, we all have to accept our differences and learn how to live in a society that feels threatened by anyone who doesn’t fall into the highest part of the bell curve.”

  I stop just short of the make-shift bar, gaping at Rosie in awe. “That might be one of the most enlightened things you’ve ever said.”

  She grins at me as she dips her cup into the container of Jungle Juice. “I get pretty philosophical when I’m drunk.”

  “Must be nice. Pretty sure I only make poor decisions when I’m drunk.” I frown as Rosie takes it upon herself to refill my drink as well.

  “Then, drink up, and let’s go help Jason make some poor decisions and have a little fun for a change.”

  We elbow our way through the packed house, searching room by room for Jason. Grinding bodies fill every inch of space, but in no dark corner do I spy a solitary figure, silently drinking and watching the action from the fringes.

  By the time we’ve made our way up to the somewhat quieter second floor, my hopes of finding him have dwindled. He must have decided to leave. Disappointment floods my body, drowning the buzz I’d only just caught from my second cup of Juice.

  “Well, well, well,” Rosie mutters, doing a double take into a brightly lit bedroom. “This is somewhat unexpected.”

  I peer past her, hoping I’m not about to get an eyeful of a frat-house orgy. Instead of a mass of writhing bodies on the bed, eight guys are seated around a poker table that takes up half the room. Their expressions are neutral save for the occasional shifty eyes. By the looks of it, they’re treating the game as seriously as a gambling addict on the floor of a Vegas casino. Most of the players are brothers. Kieran’s back is to me. I’d recognize that head of thick, dark brown hair anywhere.

  The real surprise stares at me from across the room. He blinks once, maybe an acknowledgment of recognition. Just as quickly, he shifts his focus back to the cards in his hand.

  “I figured we’d find him in a dark corner, guzzling free drinks for a change,” Rosie whispers.

  “I figured we’d find him in a dark corner, leering at all the barely covered boobs.” I glance down at my party outfit, tugging my tank a little higher in a futile attempt to hide my cleavage. It’s not an easy feat with my D-cup girls. Then again, I usually dress to flaunt my assets at Greek functions. Sigma Sigma Theta sisters are always supposed to look their best, and my breasts are one of the few things about my physical appearance I can play up.

  “Hey.” One of the brothers tips his chin in our direction. “This room is closed. If you want to ante up, you’ll have to wait for an invitation.”

  Rosie and I exchanged a baffled glance.

  The brothers invited Jason to play with them?

  “We just thought we’d offer to be your beer wenches,” Rosie announces a little too loudly. She’s obviously thinking on the fly, so we can stay with Jason. “Does anyone need a refill?”

  No guy in his right mind is going to refuse drink service from two scantily clad women. They all shout their orders, the previous silence forgotten.

  By the time Rosie and I have given everyone what they want, I’m sweaty and my feet are cramping in my four-inch heels from making so many trips up and down the stairs.

  I place Kieran’s drink to his right, hoping Rosie and I will be allowed to watch from the bed that’s been shoved against a wall.

  Imagine my surprise when an arm wraps around my waist and pulls me down to rest against a muscled set of thighs.

  Kieran twists his lips as he continues to stare at his hand, not even sparing me a passing glance. “Have a seat, babe. I could use a lucky charm.”

  Rosie’s wide eyes meet mine, a surprised O forming on her lips.

  Even Jason’s brows raise infinitesimally.

  Behaving like a couple in public has always been off the table. A sense of unease creeps up my spine. Kieran’s acting extremely out of character, and I’m obviously not the only one to notice.

  “No fair.” One of the other brothers whines. “Why do you get a lucky charm?”

  “If you want one, go find your own,” Kieran answers, his voice even.

  The guy gestures to Rosie. “You wanna warm my lap, sweet thing?”

  Rosie doesn’t miss a beat, not even trying to mask the disgust on her face. “Not particularly.”

  “Where are your manners, McGovern? I think our new friend here should have the honor of claiming a lady to grace his dick. Phi Kappa Rho offers nothing but the finest hospitality to first-time guests.”

  The brothers defer to their president’s direction, and no argument is offered against him. Just as I try to wriggle free of Kieran’s hold to spare any more talk of us being the hired help to grace dicks, Rosie plops down on Jason’s lap as suggested.

  It’s hard to miss the expressions of shock on everyone’s faces, mine included.

  Rosie leans over, whispering something in Jason’s ear. He leans his head back and laughs while she grins like she has a dirty little secret.

  Everyone stares at them, almost as disbelieving as I am that the man is capable of producing such a carefree, happy sound.

  Rosie elbows him, sensing their comedic timing is off.

  He sobers quickly, almost like he flipped a switch on his emotions. “Well? Are we playing or do you all fold?”

  The game resumes, but an air of tension blankets the room that wasn’t here before. With each passing minute, my sense of anxiety kicks up a notch.

  Strange to think last spring, I would’ve given anything for a chance to be sitting in Kieran’s lap in front of his friends. Even though I’m exactly where I wanted to be, it’s not like I imagined. With his president’s crude comments, I feel like nothing more than a call-girl, which only reinforces what the Phi Kappas thought of me last year.

  Though their focus barely strays from the game, it seems like I’m getting suspicious side eyes from all the guys seated at the table. Or maybe those wary glances are directed at Kieran because of his sudden change in attitude. As for the man in question, he hasn’t said another word to me. His arm left my waist a while ago since he needed both hands to play.

  When did my self-respect tumble so low that I’ve been sitting here all this time, taking scraps of affection though I know down in my bones this is all for show?

  Admitting our relationship can go no further than physical and being comfortable enough in my sexuality to accept his offers for a booty-call is one thing. Degrading myself to be a dick gracer is another. I am absolutely not upholding the SST motto right now.

  And that is unacceptable.

  “Excuse me.” I stand, squeezing my way out of the circle. “I need some fresh air.”

  I don’t wait to see anyone’s response, not even Rosie’s or Jason’s. They’re content enough with their pairing, and they can have it.

  My skin itches with the knowledge I’m only good enough for what anyone will give me, which is nowhere near a hundred percent. All this time I’ve spent trying so hard, daydreaming for more and even my friends have been holding out on me. Keeping secrets, forging a relationship based on their connec
tion to me which they only indulge when I’m not around, blackmail. As I look around the living room at all the dancing bodies, I can’t escape the feeling my efforts have been for nothing. Sure, I know these people’s names, which house they belong to. We’ve rubbed elbows for the past three years, but I don’t really know any of them.

  For as much as I’ve put myself out there, I’ve gained…nothing.

  Nothing that matters, anyway.

  A bone-deep exhaustion settles over me. Without any words of parting, I escape into the brisk night. No one calls after me. None of the couples making out on the front porch and lawn notice me sprinting past them.

  My apartment, which seemed cold and unfamiliar mere weeks ago, welcomes me into its solitary refuge. The silence is bliss. Worn down from the constant show, I strip off my clothes and scrub my face of makeup. I pull my long, painstakingly curled hair into a messy bun and curl up in my bed, burrowing under the covers.

  The sound of my phone blaring startles me. I didn’t even realize I’d drifted off to sleep. My hand fumbles around the nightstand, feeling for the rectangular plastic if only to make it stop ringing.

  “Hello?”

  “Emma? Where the hell are you?” Rosie’s voice comes out stilted, panting almost.

  I sit up, scrubbing the sleep from my eyes. Her tone has me instantly on edge. “Home. In bed. What happened?”

  “You missed the biggest fight of the year, that’s what happened!”

  Her words sound less excited and more terrified. The dark, cool serenity of my bedroom is at odds with her tone, and my brain can’t bridge the disparity between us.

  “At the party?”

  “You need to find Jason. Now.”

  I flop back onto the pillows, slightly annoyed. She was in his lap. He can’t be that far. Unless she’s drunk dialing me and doesn’t realize he’s right beside her. “Why?”

  “Aren’t you listening? He got into a fight with a couple of the brothers!”

  I bolt upright, throw the blankets off, and spin in a circle. I need to get dressed. But first, I need to know where to look. “How badly is he hurt? Did the police show up? Was anyone arrested or taken away by ambulance?”