by Rachel Shane
All of a sudden, he stopped and spun around, pinning me with a hungry, animalistic gaze. I tried to step around him, but he blocked my path. “If you want…we could finish what we started,” he finally said, breaking the hour long silence that had been filled with songs I hadn’t listened to and music I refused to dance to. “And this time I won’t stop.”
I swallowed past my dry throat. He was offering to get me off. And the sick thing was the word yes leapt to the tip of my tongue. But I didn’t trade sexual favors as currency anymore and I was pretty sure he was trying to get something from me besides an orgasm.
I lifted my chin to stay strong. “What I want…is for you to leave me alone.”
He raked a hand through his dark hair. “Look, I didn’t mean—”
I poked him hard in the chest. He backed up until his shoulder blades smacked against the concrete walls. This time, I was the one playing him. “No, you look,” I said. “I got it. You proved your point. We’re the same. We both tease people.”
His brows furrowed. “No, that’s not—”
I crossed my arms. “From now on, this is a business only relationship. We’re not friends, we’re not even enemies. We’re work colleagues.”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I wasn’t trying to prove a point.”
I raised a brow, sucking back my scoff. “Then why did you stop?”
He averted his eyes, refusing to meet my challenging gaze head on. We stood there, in the middle of the dark hallway, our chests pumping ragged.
An anguished expression scrunched his face. “I—” He sighed, shoulders rattling. “I don’t know.”
My hands clenched. If there was one cold hard truth about Harrison, it was this: he was never at a loss for the exact right—or wrong—thing to say. And he never did anything without meticulous calculation. His I-don’t-know was a lie. A cop out. The end to something that would never ever start.
My tongue hung thick and heavy in my mouth. “What do you want to ask Clever Trevor in your interview?” I said in lieu of response. Work talk. Erection killer talk.
He nodded, clearly getting my memo. “About his songs, mostly.”
I nodded too even though his answer was as untruthful as the rest of him. We pulled ourselves together and strode to the backstage area, me several steps in front of him. I wanted it to seem as if I was the one walking away.
When we reached the backstage lounge, Matt was already there, pacing in front. I cringed despite the relieved breath fleeing my lungs. Without even glancing back at Harrison, I pasted my biggest smile on my face and slid my hand in Matt’s, squeezing tight. The same way I wanted to squeeze Harrison’s balls.
Inside the room various people milled about, some yapping on cell phones, others draped around black couches. The black décor continued to the walls, the ambiance interrupted only by the head shots of celebrities arranged in a line. A spread of cold cuts and candy filled a long table in the back. Clever Trevor grabbed a handful of M&Ms and shot finger-guns at the various people in the room. A towel hung over his lower half, his torso bare save for the tattoos of swirling vines and musical notes covering his entire chest. Clear liquid and ice clinked in his glass. Holy shit, I was in the same room as my idol.
My confidence drained right out my toes and my fingers started shaking. But Harrison didn’t have that problem, he beelined straight for the star.
My torso angled toward my enemy, itching to follow, but I defiantly pulled Matt onto a plush leather couch even if I was only spiting myself. Ignoring the chick sitting on the other side, I draped my legs over Matt’s lap and leaned in close to him. Anything to distract myself. To get what happened in the arena out of my head. I let out a flirty giggle before I remembered Matt hadn’t even said anything.
“Hey man—” I heard Harrison say, his voice stabbing my heart.
I turned to my new conquest. “So…” God, I couldn’t even think of a single thing to say to Matt. But I guess I didn’t really need words to complete my real goal. Matt opened his mouth to speak, to answer whatever he thought my non-question really meant, but instead I kissed him.
My body tried to freeze and pull away. I had to actively force myself not to cringe at the garlic and onion reeking from his breath and the way he opened his mouth too wide. Saliva coated my entire chin. His tongue darted into my mouth and then flopped there, lifeless, like a dead fish. My stomach roiled. Here I was trying to get my mind off Harrison, yet it seemed like the joke was on me again.
Still, I didn’t break away. My ears tuned to the tinny music that filled the room as all the chatter dropped away. It was a Clever Trevor song. No, the Clever Trevor song that now claimed me as a victim, that branded my mind with a stamp of Harrison. Redness flew to my cheeks. The track sounded low and staticky, like it was playing from a cell phone.
“Turn that off, you ass!” Clever Trevor shouted.
“Not until you admit this is all a ruse,” Harrison’s said in response, calm and collected.
I ripped my face away from Matt’s to find Clever Trevor lunging for Harrison, who held his cell phone high in the air, blaring the tinny song. Matt tugged on my shoulder, trying to pull me back to him, but I swatted him away. I wasn’t sure who I was rooting for. Clever Trevor to deck Harrison square in the jaw? Or Harrison to pull off whatever he’d come here to do? If he scored this interview, it could benefit me even if it also benefited Harrison.
Erin’s words flashed in my mind: enemies with benefits.
Gah. Tomorrow I would find a new roommate and new best friend, one who didn’t put ridiculous suggestions in my mind that enticed me to do insane things. I should also probably find a new campus job.
Except I liked this one…and needed it now more than ever.
A body guard rushed in to separate the two of them and Clever Trevor’s fist landed in the bouncer’s burly chest instead of Harrison’s face. Harrison stepped back and flashed the cell phone at the guard. “See that guy?” He tapped the screen with his finger, “Help me out here. That’s not Trevor, is it?”
I squinted. What was he getting at?
“Kick him out!” Clever Trevor flailed his arms in a vain attempt to weave around the guard.
Harrison smirked. “Oh, don’t do that. If you do, this evidence goes viral.”
Clever Trevor froze but called off the two guards heading toward Harrison. My pulse thumped.
Harrison circled the room, flashing the phone at every single person. Gathering witnesses. When he stopped in front of me, he kept his phone at his side and shook his head. “If you’re trying to make me jealous, it’s not working.”
I patted Matt on the shoulder but kept my eyes on my enemy. “Good thing I’m not trying to make you jealous then.”
I ripped the phone from his hand to get a better look. A guy was crooning Clever Trevor’s famous song in the studio. A guy who was clearly not Trevor. Short, fat, and definitely not camera ready. But his voice was exactly the same.
“That’s right, friends,” Harrison said when he’d shown the proof to everyone in the room. “Your biggest star here is nothing but a fraud, Milli Vanilli-style. Bonus points for anyone who gets that reference.”
Clever Trevor sputtered. “You doctored that video.” He swatted the bouncer away and strutted into the center of the room. “You played my voice over the original soundtrack.” His voice grew more confident with every word.
Harrison grinned as if he’d been hoping Clever Trevor might suggest that. “Prove it then. Sing right now.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you.” Clever Trevor tossed his drink at Harrison. The glass shattered at his feet and ice rattled along the concrete floor.
Harrison turned and strutted toward the door. “I think you just did.”
“Is there something you want to tell me about last night?” Erin stood at the bottom of the basement steps, one hand on her hip, the other flapping a rolled up newspaper.
I whipped my head, eyes wild. “Why? What
did Harrison say?” A low thump started at the base of my neck. Last year Erin had taken Harrison to Rho Sig’s winter formal after our mutual friend Holly set them up. They hadn’t gotten along then—mostly because Harrison spent the night concocting wicked plans to hurt everyone I loved—but I wouldn’t put it past him to seek her out and reveal the illicit dance I’d planned to keep secret.
Erin squinted at me. “You say that as if there’s something you don’t want him to tell me.”
Sure, there was lots about my past I never told her—omission falling outside my jurisdiction of what counted as a lie. I was pretty sure she thought I was still a virgin and I preferred that version of the truth to the real one. But omitting what happened last night felt deliberate. Still, I spun around and readjusted the bowl of M&Ms I’d set out for tonight’s chapter meeting. “He didn’t go down on me, if that’s what you’re implying.” Desire pulsed deep in my core just thinking about that idea. Since last night, I’d had many fantasy flashes of that particular joke coming true. But that was not okay. I could not be crushing on my enemy. I was angry at myself for the very thought.
“Yeah, I know you weren’t the one he fucked.” She slapped the newspaper.
My heart rammed. He fucked someone?
She stalked toward me and thrust today’s copy of The Daily Snowflake in my face. My eyes landed on the scandalous front page headline: Trevor’s Only Clever At Deception: Lip Syncing Scandal Revealed.
A relieved breath escaped my lungs. Not fucked but fucked over. Not another girl. I knew Harrison had printed this, of course. He’d even disobeyed the speed limit on the way home to type the story fast enough to beat the printer deadline. That ride should have earned the World Record for Awkwardness. He’d kept opening his mouth to speak and then snapping it shut. At one point the song—our song—came on the radio and we both cringed. Our hands flew at the dial at the same time to change it, brushing against one another. I pulled mine back as if it had been burned, and in a way, it had been.
When I got home, I’d distracted myself with school work, reading several chapters ahead in all my assignments. Anything to avoid grabbing my trusty battery-operated friend while I let the illicit dance montage play through my mind. I would not get off while thinking of Harrison…even if he would never find out.
“I’m pretty heartbroken that Clever Trevor lied, but I sent the link to my dad,” Erin said, beaming as if she were the one who deserved all the credit. “The story’s gone viral!”
Her dad. CNN.
My hand flew to my mouth as I slipped my cell out of my pocket and opened up my Twitter app. I sucked back an anguished gasp as every tweet on my feed centered around Harrison’s story. It had been retweeted by the AP. New York Times. Entertainment Weekly. Buzzfeed. Crap, even my thirty-year-old male cousin who preferred NPR to music was tweeting about it. My mouth gaped at the world wide trending topics. Number one: Clever Trevor. And number two: Harrison Wagner.
Thankfully number three was some dog trick video.
“Oh my God.” I sank onto the purple couch, burying my head in my hands.
Erin plopped down next to me with a giddy flop. “How’d he even break this story?” She stared at me with big, eager TV Host eyes. The eyes of jealousy. She’d dreamed of making national news with a headline interview and here Harrison had done it before his senior year.
“Blackmail.” I ticked off my fingers. “Sexual favors. Kidnapping. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
Sexual favors from Harrison…
No, Bianca. Stop.
I straightened. “I have to go make a phone call.” I considered it ironic that last night I’d danced with Harrison to help me forget my awful mother and now I was willingly calling her in order to stop thinking about how good Harrison looked in those leather pants.
I hustled up to my room and concealed myself in the safety of the closed door. My fingers shook as I dialed but I knew the longer I waited, the stronger her wrath would be.
She picked up on the first ring, as if she’d been waiting by the phone ever since she’d pressed the send button on her email. I could practically hear her victorious smile on the other end when she said in a voice dripping with venom, “Aye dios mio, the prodigal daughter remembers how to use the phone.” Her Spanish accent was thick and heavy, as if she was trying to prove something. I knew she made it heavier when she wanted to. And I guessed what she wanted right now was to remind me of where I came from. She was the reason I had anger problems, stemming from both genetics and the way she always made me want to hit something.
“I called, you happy?” I spat, then forced a deep breath through my veins. Anger wouldn’t get me anywhere. It never did. It was sinking to her level.
“No, I’m not happy,” she said, slathering that mother’s guilt as if it was butter. “You’ve forgotten I exist. You killed both our dream and then nearly killed me too by ignoring me.”
A lump formed in my throat, blocking my airways. How could I be strong in front of her when she always made me feel weak? I sank onto my bed, trying desperately not to come to pieces as fire pulsed through me. She hadn’t forgiven me for quitting the pageant world when I was on the verge of winning Texas and soaring to the Miss USA pageant, but I couldn’t forgive her for what she put me through to get there. I knew what she wanted, an apology. But it wouldn’t budge past my lips, even if it would mean cash flow again. “Mom,” I finally said in a shaky voice that rattled on her end. “Please don’t do this.” Weren’t mothers supposed to love their daughters unconditionally? Mine seemed to only know how to deliver unconditional disappointment.
“You misunderstand me, hija. All I want is to restore our relationship.”
There was a one second pause as if she was letting that sink in. My stomach dropped. Because I knew what was coming next: an ultimatum.
“I’ve entered you into the Heart of Texas pageant that will take place over your winter break. If you agree—”
“No.” White hot fury tore through me and before I could stop myself, I slammed my fist into the edge of my dresser. My makeup container jumped and skidded off the edge as a result, spilling across my floor. Cracked eyeshadow mixed with the gray carpet. I scrambled to hang up before I tossed the phone across the room and shattered that too. Tears stabbed at my eyes but I sucked them back down. My mother didn’t want her daughter back. She wanted her star. And I refused to be her marionette anymore.
I had enough money in my bank account to pay October and Novembers’s rent. I’d figure out what the fuck I would do for December later. The more PR jobs I proved myself in, the sooner I could ask for a raise. I didn’t need my mother anymore. I had to rely on myself.
The doorbell rang and I welcomed the interruption. I splashed water on my face, smoothed down my hair, and blocked her number from my contact list.
The basement flooded with eager girls ready to talk about something that wasn’t my mother or Harrison. Or the scandal. Or how he really was an exceptional reporter. And possibly exceptional in bed given the evidence I’d gathered. STOP STOP STOP.
Twenty minutes past Chapter call time, there were still five empty seats.
“How much longer should we give them?” Mackenzie asked as she looked up from her attendance spreadsheet on her laptop.
“Fuck that. They snooze, they lose.” Corey draped across the couch in a horizontal position, arms crossed, eyes closed.
“Who are we missing?” I leaned over Mackenzie’s computer.
“Chelsey Wolf. Tara Easterly. Kelly Murphy. Amanda Simon. Keira Chan.”
Apprehension knotted at the base of my throat. “Keira Chan?” That didn’t make any sense. Keira was one of our most gung ho members. She’d been first to chapter last week. Nate had told me she’d been the last one to leave his house after the Wake and Bake moved locations. My eyes darted across the rows, scanning every seat. But no Keira Chan.
“Are you talking about Keira quitting?” Jenna Rodriquez said from the front row.
My jaw twitched. “She quit?”
Jenna nodded, dark curls bouncing. “They all did.”
“Why?” Erin asked. “Because Wake and Bake got busted? That’s not a big deal.”
Jenna shrugged. “That’s all I know. They told me they weren’t interested anymore.”
I swallowed hard. Our members were dropping like flies. If we didn’t recruit more soon, there wouldn’t even be an underground version of Rho Sigma to save. Everything was spinning out of control, from this to my anger to my unwelcome feelings for Harrison to my mother cutting me off. But this was one area I could regain control. I had to be the master of this probation.
I clapped my hands. “All right girls, meeting’s starting.” I nudged Corey with my knee to get him to move and immediately froze.
Fucking Harrison. I would never think of knees the same way again.
“Our first point of agenda—” Mackenzie started to say.
But I cut her off. “We need pledges. I know sorority rush isn’t until spring, but we don’t have to play by the rules. Fraternities start rush next weekend and I say we follow suit.”
Several of the girls in the audience lifted their hands into snaps. A few eyed me as if I was crazy. Maybe they were onto something.
“Co-ed recruiting,” I continued. “Girls and boys welcome.”
More snaps rang out. A few hollers.
“Fraternities usually throw a party to lure potential members. We could do that, sure, but let’s be more creative. Do something none of the fraternities would even think of. Show all potential members that we’re the house to join. Ideas. Go.” I pointed to Mackenzie.
Her eyes widened. “Um. We could…” She glanced around the room frantically like she was searching for inspiration. Her eyes landed on a wine glass no one had bothered to clean up. “Do one of those wine and paint classes. Where everyone gets a canvas and paints the same photo and—”
I shook my head. “Lame. Next.”
No hands shot up.
