“Fuck off, Micah.”
I smirked. I’d heard that phrase so often in my life, it was more of a nickname than an insult at this point, particularly from Brock motherfucking Taylor’s mouth.
Only a handful of people could get away with speaking to me that way and not end up with a split lip. Worse if they deserved it. Brock was my best friend. Had been since the first grade when Tommy Ricci shoved him on the playground, and I gave Tommy his first black eye. No deeper friendship could be formed over standing up to a bully. Although, when I thought about it, we became the bullies—Brock, Fynn, Grayson, and me. Not for sport or shits and giggles. We did it to stop anyone from thinking they could mess with us. The four of us hadn’t set out to be these icons in school, but it hadn’t taken long for us to make a name. And that name stuck with us, even now.
We were the Elite.
Chuckling, I shut the door to the rowhouse Brock and I rented for the year. It was supposed to be for the girls and us, but they had insisted on staying in the dorms their first year, which was one of the campus rules. Brock didn’t have much regard for rules, and it only took a donation from his father to make an exception for us. “You can see Josie after. It won’t take too long,” I assured, bounding down the front steps.
Brock sent off a text, assumingly to his girlfriend, and shoved his phone into his back pocket. “Why don’t I believe you?”
A gust of warm air blew over the side of my face, a bit of moonlight streaming through the red oaks scattered over campus. “I just want to check it out. Who knows? Maybe I’ll rush.”
The sidelong glance he gave me called out my bullshit. Grayson or Fynn was more likely to join a fraternity than I was. “Are you sure about this?” he asked as we walked down the pathway lit up by round street lanterns.
“When am I ever sure about anything?” I didn’t even know my major. It was best to just take shit as it came, not overthink crap.
Brock ducked under a low branch hanging over the sidewalk as we approached Greek Row. Just a few more blocks. “What do you hope to find out tonight?”
Over the years, we’d gone through so much shit together, and Brock had always had my back, which was why I knew he would have mine tonight. “I’m not sure exactly, but I’ve heard rumors about this fraternity, about its president.”
“What kind of rumors?” he muttered, brows drawing together.
“Like there’s a reason they only accept pledges from wealthy families with connections that could be useful. Political. Financial. Legally. You get my drift.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
We were all too familiar with how this world worked. It could be both a blessing and a curse.
As we hooked a right onto Greek Row, more people were about, hanging out on the porches or in the yards, others crossing the street or walking along the sidewalk. KU’s campus had a way of making you feel safe as you strolled down the streets at night, but I was glad to see many of the students still went out in groups. If they didn’t already know about a party, they were looking for one, and this was the place to be. “I think Chi Sigma is more than just a fraternity,” I said.
Brock looked at me. “Why do you care?”
My shoulder lifted in an offhanded shrug. “I don’t really.” What went on behind or inside Sterling’s fraternity didn’t concern me, not unless he made it my concern. There was only one way that happened—you messed with someone I cared about. That list just happened to be getting longer lately. “Well, I hadn’t until today,” I amended.
“Mads,” he guessed as his gaze darted to the house on the corner.
I nodded, following his gaze. “Yeah. There’s something about him I can’t shake off.”
Two guys were shoving each other on the front lawn, and it looked about three seconds away from escalating to fists. Brock kept a watchful eye on them, but neither of us would intervene. Most likely. “And this has nothing to do with you seeing her talk to another guy?”
“I’m not that jealous. Usually,” I added at his smirk. The level of jealousy I had felt earlier seeing Sterling’s hands on Mads irked me. Insanely so. My blood pressure hadn’t spiked that high in years.
Was it because Sterling was better boyfriend material on paper? Someone Mads deserved?
I was sure her parents weren’t thrilled that she was dating me. They had never said anything or treated me disrespectfully, but my reputation for changing girls as frequently as I changed my shirt went beyond the halls of Elmwood Academy. Sex had been a tool, a means to dull the anger inside me, to forget the pain or the agony I often felt. A short-lived remedy that, after a while, I realized wasn’t the answer.
I tried therapy once. It led to sex with my therapist but not much else. I didn’t have anything against seeking professional help. It just hadn’t worked for me.
But truthfully, sex never filled that void, need, or whatever it was I was missing.
I could tell Brock thought I should leave the thing with Mads and Sterling alone, but my gut was urging me to keep a close eye on Sterling Weston, that he was more than just a resident frat guy. I didn’t like the way he looked at my girl.
Was my decision to go to this party tonight crafted from jealousy?
Probably.
But my instincts were telling me to check him out. More like demanding it. I learned to trust that intuition inside me. Even when it got me in trouble, it had been for a reason.