Chapter 10 #2
The party is already packed. The social committee blew a ton of money to get a good DJ—the house wants to suck up to Phi Mu Phi to see if they’ll pair up with us for more events—and he’s spinning house music that people are dancing to.
I spot Chase and a guy named Ben dancing with Grace’s friends.
Okay, Ben is cool. He’s chatting up Maddie, and McCall and Sofia are dancing with Chase.
“Do you want to dance?” I say, tipping my water bottle in their direction.
Grace’s mouth curves up in a playful smile. “Do you dance, Wyatt?”
Oh, it’s a challenge. I fucking love challenges.
“Do I dance? Yeah, I do.”
“Let me rephrase. Do you dance well?” she asks, quirking a brow.
I set my water bottle on a picnic table. “Come on,” I say, taking her hand. “I’ll show you.”
Her hand is small in mine, her skin silky soft. I lead her over to where her friends are dancing, and we begin to move to the pulsating music. Of course Grace can dance—her hips gyrate and her arms raise in a hot, sexy rhythm.
I need to look up more facts on Ancient Rome.
We move together and sing along when we know the words, and I have to admit, not only is Grace a good dancer, but she’s fun.
After an hour of dancing nonstop, I put my hand on her arm to stop her and lower my head toward her ear. “Do you want to get a drink?” I shout over the music. “Water? Coke?”
I pull back and she nods, waving her hand in front of her face. “Yes, please. I’m so hot.”
I take her hand again and weave our way through the throng of people partying.
Off to the side, I see people playing cup pong with hard seltzers, and I tug her toward the terrace of the house, where coolers are filled with bottles of water, more hard seltzers, beers, and sodas.
There’s an outdoor bar set up, manned by Jordan, who conveniently works as a bartender at one of the clubs near campus.
“This is better, I don’t have to shout so much at you,” Grace says as we walk up the steps to the terrace.
I nod. The volume is definitely a bit lower away from the crowd on the mock dance floor. “What do you want to drink?”
“A Diet Coke would be fine. Thank you.”
I realize I’m still holding her hand. I drop it so I can dig around in the cooler for a cold can of Diet Coke.
“Gracie,” a male voice says. “Good to see you tonight.”
I turn and look over my shoulder. It’s Reed. One of the assholes in the betting pool for getting Grace’s panties.
“Hey, Reed,” she says, her voice neutral. “How are you?”
I retrieve the soda and stand up, popping open the top and handing it to Grace. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” she says, smiling at me.
I glance at Reed. “Peterson,” I acknowledge.
Reed looks from me to Grace and back again.
Grace and I didn’t talk about what we’d do tonight, but my gut tells me she’s okay if I touch her.
I put my hand on her lower back and glide it up and down the tight, fitted fabric of her rash guard.
She smiles up at me, and I smile down at her.
Then I shoot a look over at Reed, who is watching us, his brow furrowed.
And then his eyes widen. “Oh.”
I can’t keep what I know is a shit-eating grin off my face. “Yes, oh,” I say, my eyes locking with his.
I shift my attention to see Rob walking up the steps, a red cup in his hand. “Grace Walsh! Good to have you back at the house.”
I feel Grace stiffen beside me. Anger floods my veins.
I hate that this jackass has made her so uncomfortable.
I shift from her back to her hand again, entwining my fingers with hers and squeezing them tightly.
She squeezes back and looks up at me with appreciative eyes.
I hope I convey with my own that she won’t have to put up with any shit from Rob and his disciples.
Not tonight.
Or ever again.
“Whoa,” Rob says, staring down at our hands in disbelief. “Are you with Jacobs tonight?”
“I am,” she says firmly, squeezing my hand again.
“Gracie,” I say, “let me have a word with my brother here for a moment. I’ll be right back.”
She nods.
I clasp Rob’s shoulder and guide him to the other side of the terrace, only letting go when we’re out of earshot.
“What the hell, man? Are you purposefully fucking with the bet?” he asks as soon as I release him.
“No. We’re in a history lecture together. I like her. She’s different. And guess what? She’s into me, too.”
Rob stares at me, trying to sort out this math.
“And listen carefully, chucklefuck,” I tell him as I move closer, my voice dangerously low as I stand over him.
“That bet is over, do you understand me? I think I have something with her, and if it works out, Grace will be my girl. Mine. Nobody goes near her, talks about her, or even looks at her without consequences.”
Rob blinks nervously. “Listen, bro, I didn’t know you’d hit it off with he—”
“Shut up. I don’t want to fucking hear it. If you continue to gossip about her and slander her name? Continue to be a misogynistic prick? I’ll encourage her to lawyer up. I’ll report you. And that’s just where I will start. I will not just ruin you, but I will end you. Are we clear, brother Rob?”
Rob is such a chickenshit. He looks like he’s about to piss his pants. “Yeah, clear,” he says, trying to look casual by taking a sip of his beer.
“Now go get the other assholes who were in on this bet. I have something to say to them, too. Now.”
Rob doesn’t even question me. I wait, arms folded across my chest, until he returns with three other brothers. Gross, I hate that I have to claim them. I give them the same speech, and they look equally terrified of me.
“Good. I’d hate to be misunderstood,” I tell them when I’m finished.
Then I decide to say one more thing. “And don’t pull any of this shit on another girl.
It’s a bullshit game you’re playing, and nobody deserves it.
Besides, it makes the entire house look bad. And it makes you all look even worse.”
Then I turn around and walk away.