by Penny Wylder
Immediately it feels like all air has been sucked out of the room. I expected… I don’t know what. Protests, maybe. Outrage, shock? Some of the guys look shocked, true. But Malcom? His face is unreadable.
They might have a tell in poker, but he sure doesn’t.
Malcolm glances around the table. “Give us a minute.”
The rest of the guys around the table get up and slip past me without another word. While they all file out, I get a chance to look at Malcolm. He’s a walking cologne ad. The kind that’s filmed in black and white while a perfectly chiseled shirtless man jumps into the ocean and comes up soaking and you’re left wondering what the hell he smells like.
He has sharp features and dark blue eyes that pierce me from across the room. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to show off powerful forearms, lined with veins that I want to trace. Run my fingers over. What would it feel like to touch him? I wonder. Which is crazy.
Get your head back in the game, Juno.
It takes a minute for all the guys to get out of the room, and that entire time Malcolm is watching me, unblinking. I can feel his gaze in an entirely different way than the other guys that have already looked me up and down. His eyes are sharp, at once looking like he wants to tear me apart and devour me. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing but seeing the intensity there makes me lose my breath.
When the door finally shuts behind me, he leans back in his chair, the perfect picture of feline grace. The position tightens his shirt and shows off the fact that the rest of his body matches those forearms.
“Run that by me again,” he says.
I clear my throat. “I want to pledge to Granite House. Join you all.”
“You want to live with a bunch of guys?”
“I want to be at the center of the action,” I lie. It’s a line I came up with beforehand because I’m a terrible liar if I’m not prepared. This one took some in-mirror reciting before my big entrance tonight.
He shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “This is a male-only house.”
I swallow, crossing my arms. “You’re not a fraternity. You can’t uphold that restriction, otherwise it’s discrimination against women.”
One eyebrow raises and with it my stomach clenches. I dig my own fingers into my arms to stop myself from shaking. A single lift of an eyebrow shouldn’t make me want to reach out and trace it. What the hell is wrong with me right now? “It’s for your own good,” he says.
I raise my chin. “I think I can decide for myself what’s good for me.”
He stands abruptly. “Can you?” He comes around the table. “You have to be a freshman, because you came to Granite House dressed like that. If you made that decision, you clearly don’t know what’s good for you.”
Malcolm is crowding my space now, but I don’t move, even though his closeness makes my chest so tight that I can’t breathe. “Maybe I was looking for a little fun and thought this dress might help me get it.” I cock my head to one side, holding his gaze. Holding my own, despite the flutter in my pulse.
“Or maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow to an accusation against one of my boys.” He folds his arms over his chest, gaze narrowed. “I’ve got news for you, I vet everyone who lives in this house and that kind of thing has a zero fucking tolerance, so if you want to get Granite House closed down, you’ll have to think of another way.”
I shake my head to clear it and shake off the shiver from the sudden coldness in his eyes, so different from the way his eyes were undressing me just minutes ago. “What the hell are you talking about? I came here to pledge to the house.”
Malcolm crowds my space again, this time backing me against the wall, so close that we’re almost touching, but not quite. So close that my hair stands on end like it’s trying to get closer to him.
“Oh really?” When he speaks, I catch his scent. Something sharp and smoky, with just a hint of mint underneath. It makes my head swim, my fingertips trembling a little.
I clench them to hide it, and pray he’s not as good at reading my tells as he was at reading his friends’.
“Really,” I breathe.
Slowly, his mouth creeps up into a smile and I find my heart pounding a little faster. “Well then.” There’s that fire and hunger again. And with how close he is, it seems like he wants to touch me and is just barely holding himself back. This isn’t what I came here for, but if he touched me right now I wouldn’t say no. “Hang around the party. We’re going to have a meeting for potential recruits later in the night. Maybe you’ll get in. Maybe you won’t.”
“That’s all I have to do?” I ask. “Hang around? There’s no other requirement to get in?”
His mouth quirks up. “I never said that. What I said was to go enjoy the party…” he lets the end of the sentence hang in the air like a question.
“Juno.”
“Nice to meet you, Juno. Now get out of this room so I can continue to whip my friends’ asses at poker.” The heat drains from his eyes again and I shiver. He’s beautiful. Hot as sin and I can feel the heat radiating off him.
But even as I want him to lean forward and touch my lips, I know that he’s not a good idea.
He’s the leader of Granite House and I know what that makes him. A party boy and a drunk. Someone seeking a high continually because they can barely stand their own life. I don’t have time for drunks and drug users. I just need him to give me what I’m after so that I can get the hell out of this house.
I don’t wait to leave the room this time because I can sense that he’s serious. The guys who left earlier are hovering just outside the door, and they don’t waste time filing back in as I exit.
“She was serious?” I hear one of the guys says before the door is shut. There’s a burst of excited chatter, one sharp laugh, before Malcolm barks something that makes the room quiet again. Finally, the door slams shut, cutting off my opportunity to eavesdrop any further.
Okay…well, at least they didn’t say no. And it’s not like I actually uphold my end of the request and pledge. I just have to hold tight in this house until that meeting. Hopefully their poker game will last until dawn, and I’ll never have to do anything else. Just stay the night and get the hell out of here without doing anything too crazy.
Maybe, if I’m lucky, I won’t even have to face Malcolm again. Won’t have to gaze into those searing, sharp eyes once more, or feel my breath hitch in my chest at the way he watches me, piercing straight through my defenses. Somehow, even though he’s the first guy in his house not to undress me with his eyes, I feel like he read me more deeply than anyone else has in my entire life.
How is that possible?
Moreover, how am I still thinking so much about him after our ten second meeting? I shake my head, trying to dislodge the sensation. It’s a distraction, and one I cannot afford right now.
He told me to go enjoy the party, so I’ll do just that. And in the meantime, I’ll go looking for my proof to Tri Delta that I was here.
2
Juno
The second story of Granite House is a little more peaceful than downstairs. There are still people, but I can breathe. It’s actually a pretty nice house, and I think the rooms are pretty large, though I can’t see since the doors are all closed.
I take my time exploring and peek into a couple rooms that have the doors ajar. But I stop after I get an eyeful of a little too much of everything of a couple having sloppy, drunken sex.
Another reason I don’t drink or waste my time with parties. It’s entirely possible that neither of them will remember that in the morning. So what’s the point? I like to remember my pleasure.
I’m on the third floor when I see what I’m looking for. There’s a shelf at the end of one hallway. Some books, but also some things that are just…displayed. A small version of the statue of David. A jar full of marbles. Photos of guys in the house and family or friends or girlfriends.
It almost seems like this is a thing for everyone in the
house to show something off. Definitely personal, and definitely not something that they would let me borrow. Seems like it fits exactly the criteria of what I need.
On the top shelf, I spot what I want. It’s an urn. Small and unassuming. It almost looks homemade. It’s certainly not the flashiest thing on the shelf, but I don’t want the flashiest thing. I want something that no one is going to notice is gone until I bring it back and leave it anonymously in the mailbox.
Quickly, I reach up and grab it. It’s a little bigger than I thought at first glance, but it’ll still work. I slip it into my purse that’s small and dainty to match the dress. The vase almost doesn’t fit inside it and now the bag is bulging as it holds my prize and the absolute essentials for overnight. It’ll work. People never ask to see what’s in a girl’s purse, right?
I make my way back down the stairs, determined to find somewhere to sit and wait it out until the meeting. But I don’t quite make it that far.
“Hey, baby. You said you’d come back for a drink.” It’s the guy who let me in to the house in the first place. Great.
“Umm…I’m not thirsty.”
“It’s a party,” he says, leaning way too close. I can smell the beer all over him. “Everyone is thirsty.”
“I’m really not.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Whatever.”
I slip into the living room where the music is loud and intense and it’s a mass of bodies moving and dancing. Easy enough to stay away from that guy, but hard to avoid all the other guys that I’m now faced with.
But I make it across the room to a large dining room with chairs and an actual drink set-up. I serve myself a cup of water in a red plastic cup so that they at least think that I have something to drink.
“So you’re the girl who wants to join.” A cute blond guy comes up to me where I’ve found a chair in the corner. “I’m on the list too.”
“Good for you.”
“You’ve got balls,” the next guy says. “We heard you just walked up to Malcolm and asked him.”
“Something wrong with that?”
“I guess not,” blondie says, getting closer. “You’ll never be let in to a house full of guys, but I appreciate your spirit.”
“Thanks.” I stand and walk away, but he follows me.
“I mean, if you’re not going to get in, I still might be able to help you out.”
I duck through the doorway and into the kitchen. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t need it,” he says, grinning and backing me into a corner. He smells like cheap beer too. It’s gross. And I’m really tired of being backed into corners tonight.
“You could have a place to stay in Granite House any time, even if you don’t live here.”
“Thanks but no thanks,” I say, scowling and trying to stand taller, to make him back off.
He’s crowding my space, but unlike when Malcolm did it, I feel hot and uncomfortable and cramped.
“Come on.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “You know that this is the best way.”
“The best way is for you to leave me the hell alone.”
“I don’t think so.” He yanks me against his body, and leans in to kiss me and I shove him back. But I don’t have to force him, because he’s suddenly ripped away from me and shoved into the nearby doorframe by large forearms that I recognize. And that I don’t have a chance to recognize for long because suddenly Malcolm’s standing in front of me, bending toward me, a question in his eyes.
I only have a split second to glance from him to the furious, drunk guy who’d been on me a second before, and back. He lifts one eyebrow, a silent question, although what he’s asking, I’m not entirely sure. Do you need my help, maybe? Or he’s asking to kiss me, judging by the way his gaze drops to my mouth, but either way, I nod.
Then my lips part, and Malcolm’s mouth is on mine.
It’s like sweet fire that burns more than any alcohol that I’ve ever had. The goosebumps are back on my skin and my eyes close. I’m breathing him in, basking in the heat of this kiss. Malcolm’s lips are softer than I imagined they would be, and it’s the best kiss that I’ve ever had, even though it’s our first.
Our first? What am I thinking is about to happen here? This is going to be our only kiss. Once Malcolm finds out that I’m just a Tri Delta plant here to complete a dare…
I force the thoughts from my mind—or rather, Malcolm drives them out, when his free hand curls around my waist. This time it’s more than welcome. I want more of him and the solid feel of his body against mine. His tongue sweeps against my lips and another pure burst of heat ripples down my spine as I open for him and let him steal the last of my breath.
I feel hazy when he pulls away. Like the kiss packed the punch of ten drinks of whatever he’s had tonight. I lean back against the wall to catch my breath, but Malcolm is already turning away, stepping in on blondie from earlier.
“Are you messing with my girl?” He reaches out to shove the man back against the doorframe a second time, hard enough I hear wood splintering and cracking.
The guy’s eyes are wide, and he stammers. “I didn’t…I didn’t know that she was your girl.”
Malcolm cocks his head. “It shouldn’t matter whether she’s mine or not. You don’t touch people without permission in this house, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Malcolm looks him up and down, and I’m glad that I’m not on the other end of that stare. “You’ve been drinking?”
The kid nods. “Yeah.”
“Can you walk home?”
He nods again. “Yeah, my dorm isn’t far. I’m just staying for the recruit meeting.”
A cold smile. “No you’re not,” Malcolm replies. “We don’t accept people who don’t listen to the word no.”
Blondie’s jaw drops open. “Are you serious? But—”
“What did I just say? I’m saying no. Take a hint and get the fuck out of here.” Blondie hesitates, and Malcolm practically snarls. “Now.”
The kid leaves, and Malcolm waits until he’s entirely gone before he takes a step back from me. “Thank you,” I tell him. At least his interaction has given me enough time to catch my breath, after that kiss.
That kiss. My whole body is still tingling, on fire, and all I want is for him to wrap his arms around me again. Pull me close, the same way he just did.
But…
“Not a problem. Like I said, we take harassment seriously.” His half-smile winds its way straight into my gut. I can’t just ignore the fact that I just had the hottest kiss of my life, or that I want him to do it again. “Sorry about the kiss. It tends to get the message through these meatheads’ thick skulls better, not to touch a girl who they know is taken.”
“No, I…” Are you kidding? I want to blurt. Instead, I just swallow, hard. “It’s fine.”
Fine? That’s what I’m going with? After that kiss?
But to judge by the slowly spreading smirk on Malcolm’s face, he knows exactly how more than fine it was.
Still, I swallow again. Make myself add, “I appreciate it.” I hope my tone sounds professional. Buttoned up. Like all I care about is that he helped me out, and not that my knees are still feeling weak from the way he decided to go about it.
“The least I can do for the only girl ever to pledge Granite House,” he says with a grin.
“The only one that’s trying,” I correct him. “You haven’t let me in yet.”
He smirks. “I like your chances.”
I smile too. It seems like he’s warming up to me a little bit. Or maybe he’s just being nice because since the last time we spoke he’s had more to drink and his inhibitions are even lower.
That has to be it.
But he didn’t taste or smell like alcohol when we kissed. He tasted like chocolate and smelled like the cologne I imagined he was the model for.
But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t drinking. He could have had jello shots or a chocol
ate martini for all I know. “How long till the meeting?”
“Not too long. Usually we let people stay as long as they want, but with classes starting tomorrow even Granite House has to draw the line somewhere, right?”
“Right.”
I wasn’t exactly expecting that, but it’s nice to hear. Because I’m here to study, and I can’t show up to my 8 AM lab after being kept up all night by a raging party. And it is kind of getting hectic. In the next room, someone is doing a keg-stand, and the people are chanting for him to chug. It gets louder and louder until it’s just pure cheering.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Malcolm watching with amusement. The dark-haired boy drinking upside down falls and stumbles. It creates a chain reaction, people falling into one another and stumbling until a girl crashes into me. I go crashing into the kitchen counter, and as I do, I hear something shatter against the floor.
Looking down, my stomach drops through the earth as I see what’s happened. The girl crashing into me shoved the vase I took out of my over-full purse, and now the stolen proof is in pieces all over the floor.
Oh no.
“What is that?” Any signs of flirtation or kindness that were in Malcolm’s voice just a minute ago are gone, replaced by a barren wasteland of anger and cold.
“It’s nothing,” I gasp.
“It’s not nothing, it’s from the shelf upstairs,” he says. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that that’s the Granite House heirloom that’s been in this house since the founding of the university.”
I feel my face go pale. “What?”
He doesn’t look like he’s joking, and I realize that the entire room has gone utterly silent.
“There has to be a mistake,” I say quietly.
Malcolm nods to the poker room. “Let’s talk for a minute.”
I can only swallow as I head into the room, and I hear him tell someone to pick up the pieces carefully, and preserve them. He shuts the door behind him. “Why are you really here?”
“I thought that we went through this already,” I say weakly.
“And we’re about to do it again,” he says, “because I don’t think you came here just to pledge to this house if you’re snooping around and stealing.”
