Rushed (The Rushed Series)

by Gina Robinson

  She wasn't looking where she was going. She tripped on the uneven sidewalk and nearly went down.

  I caught her by the arm just in time and pulled her to her feet. "You okay?"

  "Besides being embarrassed? Yeah, I'm fine. Just turned my ankle." She tested her weight on it.

  "Don't be embarrassed. These sidewalks are killers. You should see people slide onto their butts on them in the winter. Let me take that." I pulled her backpack from her shoulder and slid it over mine. "Can you walk?"

  "If I can't, will you carry me?" She batted her lashes again in that ridiculous way.

  "Depends on how much you weigh."

  She shoved me playfully. "Forget it." She grinned. "Give me your arm."

  I held it out to her. "Now you want me to be your crutch?"

  "Absolutely." She took my arm and snuggled against me.

  She was going to kill me. She couldn't know how hard my heart pounded. We looked too much like a couple as we made our way to the edge of Greek Row.

  The College Grind was crowded. It took fifteen minutes to get our iced coffees. I asked for an extra cup of ice. She paid before I could whip out my non-existent money. We found a spot on the grass outside and sat in the shade.

  I insisted on inspecting her naked ankle. That was another mistake. When I took it in my hand, I could see up her skirt. Her shapely leg felt too good in my hand. All I could think about was sliding my hand up her leg and beneath that short skirt of hers.

  "What do you think, doc?" she asked. "Will I live?"

  "Looks like you just twisted it." I put the cup of ice against it and she jumped at the touch of cold, laughing. Her leg was as imperfectly beautiful as the rest of her. "Where did you all these scars?" I slid my hand up her shin and lightly caressed one.

  "Just trying to get a feel?" Her eyes sparkled like she was enjoying this. "I thought you were worried about appearances. What do you think my sorority sisters will think if they see you holding my leg in public?" Her eyes danced like she didn't care.

  I caressed her ankle and let go slowly. "They know I like to play doctor."

  "But not with the girls?"

  "You didn't answer my question," I said.

  "I took a spill over a hurdle at the state meet in high school."

  That took me by surprise. I didn't have her pegged for a sporty girl.

  "Freaked my mom out. She thought I had permanently disfigured myself. And she's not good with blood. Speaking of that—am I trusting my leg to someone with medical skills? You aren't a premed major, or maybe physical therapy?"

  "Are you fishing for information? If you want to know what I'm majoring in, just ask."

  She grinned. "So?"

  "Food science. But if it makes you feel better, I've taken anatomy and physiology, organic chem, and biology. I have some experience with injuries from my years of being sacked on the football field."

  She tilted her head like she was trying to figure me out. "Food science? What's that? Like, nutrition?"

  I stared at her. I got that question a lot. "No, not like nutrition. It's pretty self-explanatory—the science of food."

  "It's not self-explanatory to me."

  "New product development, food packaging and storage methods, food safety. Super tasters for new products. That kind of thing. Food scientists work at all the major food producers, at dairies, wineries, breweries, coffee companies. There's a lot of science involved in developing new products without destroying the nutritional value of the food and still making it tasty. And finding ways to preserve food safely using fewer and fewer chemicals and additives."

  "It sounds interesting. And you're a junior?"

  "More fishing?"

  "Maybe."

  "Yeah. Junior. Since we're asking the mundane 'what's your major' question, what's yours?"

  She shrugged and smiled brightly. "Business, I think. I haven't really decided for sure."

  Typical Double Deltsie answer. Most of them would never have to work. I don't know why that irritated me, but it did.

  "I like what you're doing, but you can let go of my leg now. Before people start talking."

  I'd been stroking her leg, almost without thinking. Just for fun, I held it more tightly. "Only if you're all better now. Are you sure?"

  She smiled and I let go and grabbed my phone. "We have work to do."

  The prof had posted the playlist online. We plugged headphones into our phones and sat side by side, listening to the birth pangs of rock and roll. Sex, my mind whispered.

  Alexis lay on the grass with her blond hair fanning around her. She closed her eyes as she listened to the music, with a rapturous look on her face that matched the way a girl should look after a hot round of lovemaking. A look I would love to put on her face. Sex, that's what the music really was about.

  I lay back, too, so close to her, our arms brushed. I could barely focus on the music.

  "Zach! Did you hear that riff?" Beside me, Alexis suddenly sat up.

  "What?" I tried to act casual, like I hadn't been thinking of her.

  "That riff. It’s like heaven. Like the birth of the whole genre!" She tried to describe it to me.

  "Where are you? I don't hear it." I tried to play it back and find the spot she was talking about.

  She pulled one earbud out and pulled me close to stick it in my ear. We were so close, cheek to cheek. Her expensive perfume bloomed in the heat, giving off sensual undertones designed to turn guys on. Her lips were moist. Her nose so cute in profile. Everything about her made my heart pound. And then I heard the riff, wrapped in the middle of cheesy fifties music, and knew what she meant.

  We turned our heads just enough to face each other. My breath caught as she realized I got it and smiled at me.

  Damn, but I wanted to kiss her. All I had to do was cup the back of her head and bring my lips to hers. I came to my senses before I did something stupid that would get me fired and kicked out of the house.

  "Awesome." I pulled her earbud out of my ear and handed it back to her. "Where did you learn so much about music?"

  Her eyes clouded with disappointment and confusion. Like she'd been trying to trap me in that kiss. She didn't know that I was easy prey and fighting temptation only as a means of self-preservation. If she'd been just another Geed girl…

  "My dad," she said. "But he's into classic seventies rock. This fifties stuff is too early for him. What about you?"

  I shrugged. "I've always liked music. It’s an escape."

  "From what?" She seemed genuinely interested.

  I wished she wasn't sitting so close to me. It made it hard to think. "Everything."

  The tiniest of frowns creased her forehead. "Everything?" Like she couldn't believe anyone would want to escape life.

  I changed the subject. "You don't fit the Double Deltsie mold. Why did you pledge them?"

  Her frown became a scowl. "I didn't have a choice. You know I'm a legacy? Mom would have killed me if I didn't." She rolled her eyes. "My mom is the queen of pressure and expectations."

  "You could have defied her." It didn't seem like such a big deal to me.

  She shook her head. "You don't know them." She was gorgeously imperfect even when she frowned. "I'm their only child. Their one hope for the future. Failure isn't an option."

  I still didn't understand what the problem was. You live your own life. Screw your parents if they don't like it. They'll find something to disapprove of no matter what you do, or how much you succeed.

  You make your own way so you don't have to rely on anyone. Prove people wrong about their expectations. And then don't give a shit whether they acknowledge them or not. It's the "not giving a shit" that takes practice. It's one of those simple things that was not at all easy to master. No one had ever expected anything of me.

  "What about you?" Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, focused fully on me.

  Damn, but I wanted her to look at me like that forever.

  She leaned toward me, intimately, like I was the m
ost interesting person on the planet. "Why are you a houseboy, Zach? Give me the inside scoop. What do your parents think about having a son who lives in a sorority house? Do their friends tease them? I bet that takes some explaining! 'No, our son is not gay or transgendered. He's just found his calling—living with girls! Yeah, it's a tough job for a guy, but someone has to do it.'"

  She put on a low, mock-dad kind of voice that almost made me laugh. And sad at the same time. I could almost hear my dad explaining away my existence.

  "'He's going to write a book someday—The Smart Man's Guide to Living in a Female-Dominated Society,'" she said. "'As one of the handful of guys in the world who has survived the pressures of living with one hundred menstruating women, his insights are invaluable. It's going to hit number one on the New York Times list.'" She paused. "I bet this gig scores points with your buds back home." Her eyes lit up at the thought.

  I laughed, but I refused to be drawn out. "It pays the bills."

  She missed the cues I was sending her. "You know what you should do?" Her eyes went wide with excitement. "Dress in drag and send them the picture! Tell them you like the house so much, you've decided to join after all!"

  "You think the Double Deltsies would take me?" I said.

  "If you wore a long blond wig and short skirts. And maybe plucked your brows. They're a little thick." She laughed.

  "My parents don't explain anything to anyone. They barely acknowledge I exist. They don't give a shit about me or what I do." The words came out with more force than I intended. As terse as my confession was, I immediately wished I could take it back. I'd shared too much.

  She looked startled, like she couldn't comprehend what I'd said. Or what she'd said to upset me.

  I felt like a real douchebag.

  She hesitated. "They must care at least a little?"

  I shook my head. "Just the opposite—they wish I'd never been born."

  "That can't be true." She smiled tentatively, like I must be joking or exaggerating. Like every parent wanted the kid they were stuck with.

  "It's the absolute truth. Ask them yourself." I held my phone out to her. "Their numbers are programmed in."

  Her smile faltered. "Shut up." She pushed the phone away. "You're crazy."

  "Certifiable." I laughed to cover the truth and put her at ease. People who haven't fucked up their childhoods and who've grown up with normal parents don't understand how a mother and father can hate their kid. I didn't feel like explaining.

  She punched a button on her phone. Mine rang a second later.

  "You're calling me?" I stared at my phone. "This better be good. This is an emergency contact number only for girls in the house. If you haven't tripped a circuit breaker, blown out an outlet by plugging in too many flatirons and blow dryers, overflowed a toilet, or locked yourself out, I'm unavailable."

  She stared me in the eye as my phone kept ringing. "Shut up, houseboy. I'm calling Zach, my study partner. I want him to have my number."

  I answered her call. "Hey, study partner." I couldn't help grinning. If I didn't watch myself, I could fall in love with this girl. If you believe in love at first sight, maybe I already had.

  "My number is not for emergencies only," she said. "It's open to friends any time, day or night. Whenever they need to talk. Or want to discuss music. Or just need to hear another person breathing. I'm here and I'll listen."

  She hung up. I swallowed hard.

  "Away from the house, you aren't a houseboy to me, Zach. And you're never a servant. Or a lower class." Her tone was fierce. "You're just Zach and I'm just Alexis, and all those other trappings don't matter."

  "You really think that will work?" I wished I were as innocent as she was.

  She was so naïve.

  She shrugged. "I don't care if it works for anyone but you and me."

  "And in the house?" I asked, curious.

  "You're my favorite houseboy."

  I laughed again, seriously doubtful her plan would work. "Fair enough."

  "Zach?"

  "Yeah?"

  "As my favorite houseboy, I could use your advice about house politics."

  "What? I'm the houseboy now? I'm off the clock."

  "Please?"

  "You know I'm a sucker when you beg. I'll answer as your friend. What's on your mind?"

  Her face lit up. "You were there yesterday when Kelly announced I was the top pledge and I got to pick my roommate. When I picked Emily, they seemed to approve. Why? Was Emily their second choice?"

  I couldn't tell whether she was just playing naïve now or seriously thought Emily was their second bid pick. If she'd studied her pledge class at all, she would know better. "You and Emily are friends?" I had observed that much. "That's why you picked her?"

  She nodded.

  I sighed. "You aren't going to like what I'm going to tell you. This stays between you and me, got it?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Your friend Emily barely made the cut. She was their last pick. They wanted a couple of other girls more. But you know the politics. They have to coordinate with other houses because the Greek system can only offer one bid to each girl. They reluctantly took Emily as a compromise. Even the Double Deltsies don't always get their way.

  "When you picked Emily, the other girls approved of your choice of a girl who was no competition to you. Your strategy proved that you really are one of them."

  Chapter Seven

  Alexis

  Was I really one of them, a Double Deltsie deep down? As I tried to get my mind off Zach and concentrate at study table, I began doubting myself. Was I missing something? Was I really that good a fake? Should I tell my parents I was done living the exact life they wanted for me?

  Em sat across from me writing a paper for English 101, freshman composition. I had laughingly asked her if the topic was What did you do on your summer vacation? Wasn't that always the subject of the first paper of the year?

  I thought about what Zach had told me about her, too. There was no way I would ever mention it. What didn't they see in her? She was puppy-dog enthusiastic about being in the house. And trying so hard to impress and do everything they asked of her.

  And Zach, I couldn't figure him out. I had been so certain he was about to kiss me. He was certainly flirting with me. Then he drew back, just like that. I understood I was playing with fire by flirting with him, that we could both be kicked out of the house if we started something. But I had never felt this kind of attraction to a guy before. I couldn't stay away. I had to be near him, even if I could only be his friend.

  But I also wanted to know more about him. What drove him? Were his parents really as bad as all that?

  Studying made me hungry. Dinner was long past, but the kitchen was always open. Unfortunately, Betty, our cook, was rumored to lock up most of the cupboards when she left for the night.

  As soon as study table hours officially ended, I took a chance she had left something edible out. "I'm going to get something to munch on," I whispered to Em. "Want to come with?"

  She shook her head. "Not now. I'm on a roll."

  Never interrupt a writer in the zone. I left her alone.

  I was hoping to find Zach in the kitchen. Instead Kayla was sitting on the counter next to the sink, laughing and talking with Seth.

  I walked in. "I'm starving. Did Cook leave anything out? Or have you two scarfed it all up already?"

  Kayla swung her legs and laughed. "If there was anything left after dinner, it's long gone." She nodded toward Seth. "These guys inhale food. Is study table over already?"

  I nodded and frowned my disappointment.

  "You soon learn to stock up on snacks and hide them in your room," Kayla said. "Under lock and key. If it gets out you're hiding food, you'll never see it again. This time of night, your best bet is the grocery store or Lates, which is run by dining hall services. But it's across campus."

  I sighed. "That's a long walk when you're weak with hunger."

  Kayla laughed. "If yo
u're really on the edge of death, I'll drive you."

  "Hang on." Seth pulled a key from his pocket and held his finger to his lips. "Don't tell anyone." He unlocked a cupboard and tossed me a granola bar.

  I peeled back the wrapper and took a bite. "I am forever in your debt."

  "Don't tell him that!" Kayla gave Seth a playful shove. "He'll find a way to call that debt in."

  The way Seth looked at Kayla, I thought for a minute he had a thing for her. But it was clear from her end she just considered him a friend.

  "How are you adjusting to living in the house?" Kayla asked.

  She had just given me the opening I needed. "It's only been a day. Generally, I love it! Except for the sleeping porch." I made a heavenward glance.

  She laughed. "Doesn't everybody. You'll get used to it."

  "Lucky houseboys," I said. "You guys have your own rooms."

  Seth got a wolfish look in his eyes as he wiggled his eyebrows and grabbed Kayla around the shoulders. "Damn, I would rather be sleeping in the sleeping porch with you girls."

  "Shut up!" Kayla laughed and pushed him away. "I bet you would. Seth is the reason we have the no-dating-the-houseboys policy."

  "But fraternizing with the frat boys is perfectly okay. Encouraged, even." Seth was ostensibly still teasing, but there was an edge to his voice.

  "If you're talking about Eric, then shut up again," Kayla said. "What I do in private—"

  "Seriously, Seth," I said. "What do your parents think of their son living in a sorority?"

  He shrugged good-naturedly. "As long as it helps pay the bills, they're all for it. Why do you ask?"

  "Just curious." I tried not to let my true motives show.

  "Are you polling all the houseboys? Is this for, like, Psych 101? The effects on the male psyche of living with one hundred women in tight quarters, or the guarding-the-harem-effect on non-eunuch males." He laughed again.

  When he saw my expression, he paused. "Oh, I get it. I saw you walk back to the house with Zach this afternoon. You're trying to figure us out so you can figure him out. Good luck with that!"

  "No—" I tried to act casual.

  Seth slipped his keys back into his pocket. "The girl protests too much!"