When Sh*t Gets in the Way (When Life Gets in the Way Book 2)

by Ines Vieira

  “Isabella. Jessica,” Evan nodded and handed over what I could tell was vodka mixed with orange juice.

  “Hi, Evan. So, I guess you were probably the one that told Drew about this party, huh?” I take a quick sip of my drink and am grateful that there is an extra kick of vodka.

  “Yes. Drew did say that you might show up tonight but I thought he wasn’t really serious.”

  I look at the promptly put together blond in front of me with his dark brown eyes hidden by thick black rimmed glasses. His cord pants are neatly pressed, as well as, the white collared shirt that covers his freckled body. In another life, Evan could pass over for cute indie chic, but in this life, he insists in dressing like the district attorney that he wants to become, so I guess it’s fake it until you make it with him. Of course, Evan would know about a party where all the future big players of the world would be. From the little bit of time I have spent with him, he’d shown that he was determined to do anything to be at the same level as the cream of the crop and rubbing elbows in a party like this was probably one step closer to achieve his agenda. I’m all for determination, but Evan always gave me that too desperate to be healthy feeling. Like I needed to take a long hot merciless shower after being in his presence for too long.

  The reek in this place was starting to get to me that’s for sure. Mix high influential future men and women of state and business in one frat party where they know that they are the one percent that will, in fact, own it all and add desperate zealous postulants like Evan and it's too much for my stomach.

  “Why wouldn’t he be serious?” Izzy asks even though I know what Evan is insinuating without having it clarified for me.

  “It just doesn’t seem like your type of crowd, that’s all, Isabella.”

  Evan eyes us from top to bottom and as if we didn’t know already that we were sticking out like a sore thumb in this place. Both Izzy and I look fine in our fitted jeans. While Izzy has on her beloved Sex Pistols halter top and me in my off the shoulder white long sleeve crop top, if we were at any other party, we would look hot. Right now though, any one of these girls outfits is probably worth more than what I have in my whole closet, and our chosen dress choices just solidifies that we shouldn’t have stepped foot in this house, to begin with.

  Before Izzy can add her two cents, someone places a hand on Evan's shoulders and grabbing his attention. Even without a formal introduction whoever the guy is, he must be someone of importance for Evan’s eyes to shimmer as they do.

  “Evan, Evan, Evan. I don't recall telling you that you could bring a guest, much less two.” Evan’s face pales and starts to panic looking at both Izzy and I and back to the unnamed douchebag. Evan almost starts to hyperventilate in his explanation that he had only mentioned the party to his roommate and he was the one to blame for our appearance. Pathetic. Evan needs to grow a pair if he wants to surround himself with these types of assholes.

  “Grant, I really didn’t mean any offense.” There are a couple of guys behind Grant and Evan that can't stop laughing and enjoying Evan’s groveling. Grant is over it though. He is much more interested in carefully dissecting each and every inch of Izzy and me. In the end, he scrunches up his nose as if he smelled something foul, which irks me to no end.

  “Well, it's done now, and we at Delta Kappa Epsilon are nothing but welcoming. We are a selective bunch, but we also don’t mind a little diversity once in a while.”

  That little shit!

  “Can you care to elaborate what you mean about diversity? Somehow I don’t think you're referring to our differences in majors,” I quirk. The man before me is the very definition of entitlement. His whole exterior exuberates confidence that only an abundance of wealth can provide. From his two-hundred-dollar haircut to his ostentatious Rolex. For crying out loud, how many college students go around wearing that? He seems to delight in the fact that I gave him an opening to explain just what he means by diversity, and I can't wait to lay it on him if he even utters one wrong word.

  “I would think that a girl like you would be familiar with the term diverse. Your ethnicity for one seems incongruous enough. If I took a guess, I’d say latina for sure. It would explain that fiery stare you got going on.”

  “Don't you think that is a little bit insulting to Latin origins in its whole? That if a woman confronts a man on his bullshit that automatically, this must mean it's due to her heritage or bloodline and not to her god given right to stand up for herself regardless of what her ethnicity is?”

  “Quite true, but I find the darker the skin, the higher the temper. So tell me since you have piqued my curiosity, what are you? Mexican, Cuban, what?” I swallow hard, trying to control my anger.

  “American, asshole!”

  “You don’t look American,” he smirks.

  What a pompous ass.

  “Neither do you.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I was born here.” This is the first time that I see a little break in his cool exterior, and it’s the reward in itself. I’d love to see this jerk break, but these types of scumbags never do out in the open for all to see.

  “Well, so was I!” I bolt out with my arms firmly crossed over my chest. He laughs again looking at his buddies with that look of distaste in his eyes.

  “Yeah, well a dog can be born in a barn, but that doesn’t make it a horse, now does it?” My hands are in fists at my sides now, and it takes everything in me not to smack that disgusting grin off his smug face. The ironic choice of his wording is not lost on me.

  “I’m sure you’re as purebred as they come. Funny thing is you don’t look Native American to me,” I mock making sure he gets my point that his blond, blue-eyed characteristics have nothing in common to the true natives of this land.

  “Funny girl,” he snarls, but this time he can’t hide that he’s annoyed at my comeback.

  “Aren’t you late for a KKK meeting or something? I’m sure that your absence is being felt.”

  “Whatever, funny girl. Just be careful okay? Not a lot of people have my sense of humor.

  “Is that a threat, dipshit? Cause bigger men than you have failed at intimidating me.” I look him straight in the eye to drive my point through. If this idiot thinks that he frightens me, he has another thing coming. I might be small, but my left hook will knock this silver spoon preppy schoolboy on his ass. While he was probably getting polo lessons, I was wrestling my siblings and brawling with my cousins over the stupidest things. I’m positive that this idiot has never even been close to a fist in his life, but by the way, he’s talking now, he’ll soon see mine.

  “No threat, funny girl. Take it as a gentle warning. Campus can be hard on comedians.”

  “Oh, just piss off will ya, ya wanker?” Izzy rolls her eyes and grabs my arm. Where making our way to the other side of the room and I still hear the assholes laughing.

  “What a bloody wanker!” Izzy is so pissed off that she actually looks like one of those cartoons where their heads are going to pop off with fumes and fireworks.

  “Wanker? Izzy, what the hell is a wanker? If you're going to insult the dipshit at least do it in a way that he’ll understand.” I tease. Now she’s rolling her eyes at me, but I see that she’s finally getting over the encounter with the Trump wannabes.

  “You know... A wanker,” she says it again, hoping that by repeating the word I somehow going to understand it’s meaning.

  “A tosser?” She opens her eyes big and wide incredulously when she sees that I’m not following one iota of what she’s on about.

  “Try again, Izzy. Got no idea what you called the douchebag. What the hell is a tosser?” I take another sip of my prized vodka orange juice. Then lo and behold, right in the middle of a crowded room with more preppies than I can count, Izzy simulates a hand job. It takes everything in me not to spray her with the alcohol that now refuses to go down. She slaps my back, and I can't stop laughing.

  “Oh, a jerkoff! I think you nailed it, Iz! Definitely a tosse
r!” We’re laughing so hard that Izzy starts snorting from her nose.

  “Ah bollocks, stop Jess, or I’m going to pee my knickers right here!”

  “Ha ha ha! Bollocks, what the hell is that?! Knickers I get, but bollocks? I mean it doesn’t even sound English, and you come from the country that invented the language for crying out loud. Please, please explain what the hell is a Bollocks!” We’re laughing so hard that even my stomach hurts.

  “You damn right we invented it, you Americans just butchered it to all hell! Bollocks means balls, you brat.”

  “Oh, my God! That is just ... just insane! I love it!” Okay, we are officially tipsy. I can't believe that the word balls can have me laughing so hard. I wrap my arm around my adorable, gorgeous roomie.

  “Babe, don’t ever underestimate a good fuck now and again.” She raises her eyebrow at my remark.

  “Get your head out of the gutter, you sassy minx. Cursing. We’re talking about cursing here Stateside. I am very partial to the F-Bomb. You can use it in any setting, and you can't go wrong. Case in point, some sorority prima donnas are looking at us as if their shit don’t stink. Observe.”

  “Fuck off!” I belt at the three blonds that look like they have just stepped off an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog. A distasteful glare is aimed our way, and I see that I haven’t made the impression that I desired.

  “And if you see that people are still giving you shit, feel free to emphasize your fuck with some good hand gestures!” I say while flipping off those same Stepford Wives. Izzy is laughing like crazy while the three girls look at us like we’re trash. They are really starting to piss me off. This is a party for crying out loud, and they look like they want to hold their pearls frightened that we may make a run at them. Please.

  “Wait, wait let me try!” Izzy’s so excited that she can't contain herself and flips under her chin and tells the three lovely twats ( have no idea what that means ) to fuck indeed off while holding up two fingers directed at their faces. Apparently being told in a British accent does the trick and they move away from us. Finally. I high five, my friend, because for some stupid reason I think that this is a big accomplishment on her part.

  “Okay babe, I won't even ask what a twat is or why you looked like you were giving them a reverse peace sign, but you did really good. Well done! And don’t forget that the brilliant thing about a good F-Bomb is you can also use it to describe your target too. For example, fuck off, fucker!” This sets Izzy off in another laughing fit, and I am right there with her. I think that now I’m the one that is dangerously close to peeing said knickers.

  “Hey, hey, hey! So much hostility over here!” I feel a warm arm around me and another sprawled over Izzy. I’m 2 seconds away from punching his Bollocks, (I wonder if that’s how I should use that word; need to clarify later with Izzy) when I see that it’s Drew. Finally! With him here, this party is definitely looking up.

  “I am so going to kill you! This party is full of entitled assholes! What were you thinking in getting us to come here?” I punch him on his shoulder for good measure. “You promised a fun Friday night, but so far we’ve been gawked at, insulted, and looked down upon. This is not my idea of fun Drew, so why the hell are we even here?” He laughs out loud showing that Hollywood smile of his and wraps his arms around Izzy from behind, placing his chin right on her shoulder facing me.

  “Patience, my little grasshopper. You wanted a party; I got you a party. Now I’m sure that there is something that can amuse you in this place.” His eyes hold a hidden meaning to his words, and I’m almost scared to think what he must be up to.

  “Drew, what are cooking up now? This is hardly your scene either, so you must have something up your sleeve.” His smile tells me everything. Yep, my friend is definitely up to no good.

  “Well let’s just say that I’m positive that this party will be as much fun for me as it will be for you. Now Izzy, my love, let's show these upper crust sorts how it’s done. Shall we dance my lady?” Izzy giggles her approval.

  “Fine. You two get going, and I’ll meet you in a bit. Just need to get myself a refill.”

  “Can you get me something, too Bae? And be careful, okay?” she says.

  “Don’t worry about our little grasshopper, Iz. She’s well protected tonight.” I roll my eyes and head towards the bar. Drew talking in riddles is starting to annoy me. Not only am I throwing away valuable study time, but I’m doing it to attend a party with uptight, bigoted, self-centered snobs. Not what I thought I would do when I told Izzy and Drew that I needed to blow off a little steam. The place is now packed, and the music is loud enough that it sounds at least like a party. Hell, if I don’t have to mingle with these assholes and just spend the night with Drew and Izzy dancing and goofing off like usual, then maybe the night can be salvageable.

  Distracted with thoughts on how we can still save our Friday night and feeling a little better with that plan in mind, I run into a wall. Well, not a literal wall, but a hard body that somehow manages to grab onto my arms before I do any real damage. My eyes are fixed on a dark gray fitted v-neck t-shirt that is highlighting every solid muscle. I don’t even have to look up to know what eyes I’m going to find looking down at me. His scent alone is a welcoming invitation. My mouth is already dry before I’ve even make eye contact and I want to kick myself at having these stupid reactions for the guy before me. His thumbs start to rub my arms in an attempt o grab my attention even further, and I literally start having little jolts of electricity spread through my whole body as a response to these little innocent caresses.

  “Jessica?” his voice is barely a small whisper compared to the noise all around us, but to my ears, my name on his lips is as loud as thunder. Ripping the whole roof off.

  Get it together, girl.

  “Quaid,” my tone is dry and unimpressed, which I thank God for. It gives me the courage to look up at him, with an aloof expression on my face and keep up with the pretense that his closeness doesn’t bother me in any way. It does the trick because Quaid immediately lets go of me, which I resent and am grateful for all at the same time.

  “What are you doing here?” His voice sounds strained.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? It’s a party, isn’t it? I came to have some fun. Well trying to anyway. What about you? What are you doing here?”

  “I live here. This is my frat.” Of course, it is because that’s just how my karma works. My feeble attempt at trying to distract myself from all things Quaid would, of course, lead me straight to his doorstep. He crosses his arms in front of him yet again revealing his hard-toned muscular chest, and I swear he must be doing it on purpose just so he can get a rise out from me. It’s working though; my blood pressure is definitely rising. Not only are we just centimeters apart, but I can still feel the ghost of his hands on me. I make a mental note to kill Drew. I might not have known that Quaid lived here, but something tells me that Drew knew all too well who I would bump into tonight.

  “You didn’t know that, did you?” his tone now holds an ounce of amusement. “I’m assuming that if you did, this would be the last place you would be right now.” His piercing blue eyes hold my stare, and it takes me a minute to get un-tongue tied.

  “It's not a sign of intelligence to state the obvious, Quaid. Maybe living in a frat like this one is lowering your IQ. I’ve talked to a lot of morons tonight, more than I care to count, and I hate to think that their asinine-ness is catching onto you. One thing that makes you interesting is that you actually have a brain accompanied by all those biceps,” I scowl.

  “How come every time we talk you manage to insult me as well as flatter me?” I don't know how it happened but in the commotion of new kids arriving at the party and my inability to focus on my surroundings when Quaid is so close to me, I don’t even recall how one minute I was in the middle of the room and now my back is firmly against the stairway wall.

  “I didn't insult you, per se, I was just making an observation.”

 
; “You insulted my friends, that in itself is an insult towards me.”

  “Then I suggest getting better friends,” I grimace.

  “But then you also complimented my intelligence as well as my physique, which by the way you can't stop eyeing.” I don't have to see the smirk on his face to know its there. His arrogance comes out loud and clear.

  “Don't flatter yourself,” I quirk back.

  “I’m not. You did that all on your own.” He places his forearm against the wall behind me, and instinctively I’m forced to stare at his exquisite face since I’m now cornered. Seriously, what was God on when he made this man? Stupidly gorgeous. Dark locks cut short on the side but long enough on top that begs for my fingers to run through them. Steel blue eyes that can pierce into any woman’s heart without even trying. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, and lush eyelashes that any man should be banned to have. Such a specimen should not be walking around on a college campus. How can a girl concentrate when all of this is in such close proximity? Yeah, Quaid made me stupid, but most of all he made me angry as hell. The anger is what keeps me lucid, and I hold onto to it with every fiber that’s in me.

  “Are we done now? My friends are waiting for me, and I’m sure I already took enough time out of your busy schedule to mingle with these assholes as it is.” Quaid grunts something low enough that I’m unable to hear above the noise around us and he straightens himself out. Finally, I’m no longer in a trance or locked in front of him with nowhere to escape. My chest breaths in the air of freedom and it has never felt this liberating. Yet there is a stupid tinge of disappointment that we are no longer in close quarters that is yelling out to me. I ignore it full heartedly. Like all the other stupid feelings Quaid inflicts on me, this is just another one that I chose to not give any attention to.

  “You really make it hard for me to want to be your friend, you know that?” With his back stiff as a board, he steps to the side, leaving me wide open to make my escape.