Hazed (Hazed & Unfazed #1)
Page 2
“Well, that’s everyone,” she says, looking around the bar and shrugging. “Besides the cook, but you won’t see him ever.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yeah, we are only open Thursday through Sunday.” She shrugs her shoulders.
“Doors open in thirty,” Hayze says. He walks through the bar holding plates of food. Shea’s twig of an arm loops through mine, dragging me to the table.
“And this is what we do until doors open.” She gestures to the appetizers scattered on the wooden table. “Eat some. You can thank me later when your nerves are shot, but your stomach is full.”
“Jesus, Shea,” Hayze adds, clearly displeased. “You’re going to run her off before she starts.” His brown eyes find mine. A brief smile plays on his lips. My head dips and breaks our contact. I pop a chip in my mouth as my eyes dance across the bar.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure them.
“Do you go to ETU?” Shea asks.
I nod my head, “My first semester. You?” I scoop a chip in the queso, checking the time. The doors open any minute and my stomach is in knots.
“I’m a junior,” she smiles. She grabs her watch, pulling the face to her. “It’s show time.”
We each grab a plate. Shea shows me where to dump dirty dishes. I follow her around like a lost puppy, mimicking her moves. Randy unlocks the large wooden doors, and dims the lights as music blares over the speakers.
“You’re just going to shadow me this weekend. Don’t get overwhelmed, everything will be second nature to you in no time,” she promises with a smile. Her bright eyes watch me, nodding her head until I agree with her.
A group of rowdy patrons walks in. Their collars are popped, hats are backwards—as I study them closer I realize they’re wearing the same outfit, with different colors. A second group of guys join them. They drag a table across the floor until it connects with the first, while they shout over each other, retelling the night before. With a side grin, Shea flicks her wrists, pointing to them and I follow her to the table.
“There’s our girl,” one of them shouts. He stands and his arms circle around Shea.
“This is Taylor, she’s our new waitress. Be nice to her,” she threatens with narrow eyes.
“Taylor, I’m Corey.” The shortest of the squad offers his hand to me. He laughs as he stumbles and slurs. “You should come to the house this weekend, back to school party.” His eyebrows wag at me, his eyes droop with intoxication.
“The house?” I look to Shea and she smiles.
“They’re in a fraternity,” she explains, rolling her eyes. She takes a step back and motions for me to do the same.
“So, whatcha say?” He slurs, coming too close me.
“Uhh, maybe,” I say. I reach for the drink tray on the table, but he grabs my arm. Scowling, I jerk away from his hold.
“Maybe? You can do better than that,” he smiles. Something about the grin of a drunken man turns me off. The way they regard women as if they are already a done deal; I’ve never understood the attraction. My blood boils and I almost tell him off but Shea comes to my rescue.
“Corey, she said maybe—” Shea starts.
“She’s new, fuck with her again and you are out of here,” Hayze says. His arms are folded against his chest; he looks slightly amused. As if he knows the guy won’t push him. With wide eyes, I turn and storm to the back. Shea catches up with me.
“Sorry, he’s drunk. He won’t say anything again. Hayze doesn’t let drunk douchebags mess with us,” she promises.
“Yeah, sorry.” I hold my head down, covering my eyes. “Let’s get back out there.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” She bumps her shoulder into me until I grin.
“This is probably the last place I should’ve applied. I have absolutely no experience with this kind of thing,” I say, motioning around the bar.
“Hey, don’t talk like that! It’s your first night and you’re doing great! It’ll get better and don’t worry about experience…This is college, you’ll leave here having experienced everything,” she says, laughing.
“Gee, is that supposed to make me feel better?” I giggle at her and she shrugs.
She slings her thin arm around my neck and tows me into the bar. The loudest table stands and shove their chairs under the tables. The contact sounds like nails on a chalkboard. A couple of girls walk in; the shorter one tugs her shirt down and leans over the bar. Hayze walks over, leans against the bar with his elbows propped on the counter. His face is smooth as he speaks to her, he winks and walks off.
“I’m gagging,” Shea tells me.
“Does he really fall for that?” I nod in their direction.
She laughs and shakes her head. “Correction, do they really fall for that?”
With my nose scrunched, I ask, “What do you mean?’
“He’s just bored, and well, I think they hope they’re the one. That they will be the one to change him, or at least, that’s what I think…” She shrugs. “Or maybe it’s the bad boy thing he has going for him. I can understand it I guess…We made out once, it was nothing. I have a boyfriend now, but I do understand the attraction,” she says, smiling and watching them.
I look back at the scene; the girl is smiling as she rubs his arm. “So, what does he do? Just like date them ‘til he’s tired of them?”
She chuckles again and drags me to a table. “No, he doesn’t date them. I’m pretty sure he’s tired of them before the night’s over.”
“And you are friends with this guy?” I ask, disgusted.
“He’s a good guy. Ya know…If you don’t do that…” She points to the bar. I turn to see him lean over, with an amused grin, as the girl slips a folded napkin into his pocket. “He’s not going to call her,” Shea says.
“So, why do they even bother?” I tear my gaze from them to watch Shea.
“My point exactly! C’mon, let’s greet that table,” she said. I shoot her a quizzical look and she shrugs. “Hey, I was intoxicated and it was one time!” She says, laughing.
With the worst behind me, the night runs smoothly. The regulars are helpful, and promise I will catch on quickly. I walk with Shea to my car past one in the morning. She’s still perky as she invites me out. I politely decline and slump to my car in exhaustion. The bar door opens again, Hayze steps out and walks to a car parked in the back. The girl from before is leaning against the car, arms crossed at her chest. I slam my car in gear to escape the scene I don’t want to witness. With his eyebrows raised, Hayze waves once as I peel out of the lot.
two
Today’s the day. The day I’ve been dreaming of since I realized my home life wasn’t normal. My first day of college, no one is standing over me, telling me in disgust to change my immodest clothing, or expressing distaste in my new friends. After spending my weekend working at the bar, I woke up this morning, threw on clothes and walked out to explore my new life as a normal student.
“Where’s L. Mueller Science building?” I ask Lea.
She grabs my schedule and map and sits on the steps and pats the pavement beside her. She pulls out a book, slides my map over it and begins marking. I check the time, hoping I get to class on time and she hands me the map.
I tried to talk Lea into taking me for a tour of the campus yesterday but she insisted that it was lame. I even found a tour for freshman and she managed to talk me out of it. Apparently no one is organized in college. I’m mentally kicking myself for winging it, as she suggested, when the panic attack builds up in my body.
“Okay, I labeled the buildings you’re going to,” she says, smiling.
I read over the purple pen marks. The four buildings I have classes in are circled. She also made extra notes about food and coffee. I glance at my schedule again, frowning.
“This campus is huge! I have to walk from the science building to the math building in fifteen minutes?” I groan. I look at her in disbelief and she smirks. That’s the difference between Lea and me. I gra
duated high school with thirty other students; every classroom was in the same building down one long hall. Lea grew up in Nacogdoches and that high school is practically as big as the university. She smirks every time I complain about the track or crowds, reminding me how different I’m from most students on campus.
She laughs, “It’s not as far as it looks.” She shrugs her shoulders.
I arch an eyebrow as she stands and pulls her backpack straps in place. “You could get a bike,” she said, pointing. I follow the end of her finger where a student pedaled by, dodging a crowd. “I bet he went to the student tour yesterday.”
“I think I’ll pass,” I murmur. “This place is packed,” I said, noting the sea of students walking to class. Coeds grip their backpacks, laughing and joking as the fresh semester begins. Most are sporting purple with the college logo on it; I glance to my boring tee then to Lea’s and make a note to grab school shirts.
She shrugs, “That’s how it is first day of each semester. Give it a couple of weeks, some will drop out, maybe get kicked out, and some will have to move back in with mommy and daddy after their second arrest.”
“There’s a fun fact I didn’t see on their website,” I laugh.
“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when sheltered kids come to college.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Class is about to start. I should probably get going,” I say.
She sees the look on my face and frowns. “Ah shit, I didn’t mean that. Well, I did but that won’t be you.”
I nod reassuringly. But I can’t pass the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of my stomach. Scott, my brother, teases me about this all the time. He tells me he sees a lot of himself in me. Out of my two brothers Scott is the college dropout, he has a good paying job and a home now, but he had hell getting there after his rebellious days in college. I wave and start walking, my eyes glued to the map. When a pen thumps me in the back, I scoop it up and look behind me. Shielding the sunlight from my eyes, I spot Lea on the stairs.
“You’re going the wrong way!” She calls. “Meet me in the dining hall after algebra!”
I turn, her finger is pointing to my left. I nod my head and follow in that direction. Throughout my walk I follow signs, and groups of students. My mom tried unsuccessfully to make me try a community college first, but I wasn’t having it. Today, I fully understand the phrase ‘culture shock.’
My shoulders sag in relief as I see the building in front of me. Following the signs, I find the room number within minutes. Students fill the desks, only the first row is empty. I duck my head as I slide into the first seat I find. Thankfully, no one knows who I am. No one announced the Virgin Mary entered the room as I walked in. No one knows my father, or my family. Sighing, I open my used Biology book. I fish out my pencil from my bag.
“We don’t do anything on the first day.” I turn, finding a familiar girl sitting next to me, smiling. “Hey, we met at Mystic this weekend!”
I cock my brow, impressed she remembers. She was drunk when she stumbled in the bar. “Oh, right. I’m Taylor,” I say, forcing a smile.
“I’m Shelby. Is this your first semester?” She leans in, curiously. Her hair is pulled back, its platinum top shines as the light hits it, the bottom layer is black.
“It is. And you?” I say, humoring her with a conversation. I can already tell this girl will drive me insane. My biggest pet peeve was always hearing someone judge people before they knew them. Look at me, a walking contradiction already.
“No, I’m a sophomore. I failed this class the first time,” she says, giggling.
I nod, deciding to leave my book and pencil on my desk. For all I know, she didn’t attend the first day, or any day. She taps her finger nails on the desk. The professor burst through the door, carrying a bag. He pulls out a stack of paper, counting the students on each row, he hands the first row the papers to pass back.
“So, you work at Mystic?” She studies me. Her finger nails snake to the corner of her lips, she begins chewing intently.
“Yeah, this was my first weekend,” I say, focusing my attention on the paper in front of me.
“I would work for free to be near Hayze,” she giggles. “He used to be in the fraternity I’m a sweetheart for. Just hearing his name, it’s like he was destined to be hot.”
I cut my eyes over to her; her face is flushed as she talks about him. Sure he’s hot, but what is it about him that leaves this girl in a frenzy? She doesn’t get the hint; instead her high pitched voice trails on about her weekend and I nod and pretend to listen. I shift around, meeting the professor’s eyes; he points his finger to us and goes back to the class.
“I’m professor Dunphy. You should each have the syllabus in front of you. This is your bible for the semester.” He picks up his textbook. “This is the book you should have, by next week. Bring pencils and paper to each class…” He flips through the syllabus. “Okay, I don’t care what you did over the summer, so that’s it for the day. I will see you all next class,” he says and claps once to dismiss class. Students holler and rise from their seats. I remain in mine until the group thins out.
“Told ya so,” Shelby grins.
I shove my book in my bag, toss my pencil in and sling the strap over my shoulder. I walk from the building, stopping beside a tree. The shade blocks the angry Texas sun from scorching my pale skin. Pulling out the map again, I find the math building and set off in that direction.
I’m not so lucky in algebra. The professor didn’t believe in first day bliss. We finished chapter one and left with homework due next week. The students all seemed to know one another and I sat at the front, avoiding them. I pull my map out, shielding my eyes and squinting.
“What ya lookin’ for, freshman?” A deep voice startles me; I jump, sending the map soaring from my grip. Hayze laughs as he picks up the paper and hands it to me.
“The dining hall. I’m meeting my roommate there,” I say, trying to compose myself. I stow my paper in my backpack and he laughs and murmurs something about the map.
“The dining hall? You sure?” He grimaces.
“Yeah, that’s what she said,” I say, frowning at his reaction.
“Follow me,” he says.
“Oh, you don’t have to take me,” I say. My feet remain grounded to the sidewalk. He turns with a smug grin that I’m certain girls give into.
“I know I don’t,” he said. He shoves aviators on his face and walks beside me.
His white t-shirt doesn’t leave much to the imagination. I can see the outline of his tattoos; they peek out of each sleeve and stop at his shoulder. Although he’s slim, his arms are defined, his chest sculpted, but not in the vascular way that makes me cringe; simply a natural way. Like he doesn’t give any effort to look the way he does.
“How’s the first day going?” He asks.
“Overwhelming,” I say. “How’s your first day?”
“Same as always,” he says. I nod my head even though I don’t know what he means. I’m sure it’s easy for him to make friends, with girls anyway. At the same time there’s something about him that’s terrifying. He’s friendly, but there’s something that I can’t place, something that isn’t being said that keeps me two feet away from him right now.
I’ve always studied people and caught onto things that no one else would’ve known. My dad scolded me as if it was a flaw when I was growing up. People have secrets and they have a right to keep them that way; I know this. But isn’t that why there are people like me, to help them? Everyone needs to be rescued, even if they aren’t aware of it themselves.
My hand comes to my brow, shielding the sun as I glance around. The circular, one story building nestles between tall, rectangular buildings. Students crowd in the door, while some pack the lawn outside. I pick up my speed when I see a Frisbee whisk by. Hayze chuckles and holds the door open for me.
“Your fine dining experience awaits you,” he said, gesturing inside. “You see your friend anywhere?”
Hayze runs his hand over his face and shakes his head. He mutters something that I didn’t catch. With one hand shoved in his pocket, he motions for me to lead the way. The dining hall reminds me of my high school cafeteria, with students shoving into one another as they shout above the person beside them. A smile is present on each student face. The fresh buzz is sure to wear off within a week.
“Lea,” he says as we approach the table.
“Oh my God! It’s the Hayze Clarke!” She said. He slumps in the seat in front of her, and motions for me to the take the seat next to him.
“Shut up,” he laughs.
“We’re friends,” she reminds me.
“I found this one roaming around campus lost…with a map,” he says, grinning. Lea looks to him then me and laughs.
“There’s no hope for her after all.”
“Very funny,” I say, not catching the joke.
He tosses his glasses on the table. I can’t help but notice the dark circles outlining his eyes. He rubs them once, yawning. I catch Lea watching him, her mouth twists to the side as she thinks. I want to ask what’s wrong but I don’t.
“What’s going on this week? We need to take this one out,” she said, pointing in my direction. “She’s sheltered.”
“You sure you wanna be her friend? She drinks a lot,” he said. He laughs as he steals a fry from her plate.
“I do not drink a lot!” She glares at him. “You really think I drink too much?”
“I don’t think you drink too little.” He clenches his teeth, pretending to be serious.
I laugh and then look at him in disbelief. “You don’t drink?”
He shakes his head, “Not that much. Drinking isn’t really my thing.” Lea looks at him and he catches her eyes for a second before dropping his gaze.
“I will be right back,” I say.
I follow the group of students in front of me and stand in the short line behind them. Windows line the back wall, sunlight bathes in the dining hall. Beyond the glass, the campus trees dance in the wind, with picnic tables strategically placed beneath them.