I Bet You

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  I give her an incredulous look. “My mom is dead. I’m separated from her forever.” My voice grows louder. “Your mom is alive and well—and married to my dad.”

  Margo swallows and looks away from me, shaking her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looks down. “You’re all he talks about, you know. How smart and talented you are.”

  I blink. Oh.

  She bites her lip. “My dad can barely stand me.”

  I shake my head. “Mine is just trying to make up for being shitty before.”

  “Well, don’t we make a fine pair then.” She picks at the green fabric on one of the pillows and continues. “Love sucks and doesn’t last. Don’t our parents know that?”

  “Maybe when you find the right one, it changes things.”

  She tries to tuck her flyaway hairs back into her headband, and I reach over and help her. “I’m sorry…for causing a scene. I got so worked up when I came to the meeting, and it hit home that I don’t have a date.” She chews at her lipstick. “And I’m sorry about embarrassing you. It was a shitty thing to do. I’m not myself since Kyle.”

  I nod, accepting her apology.

  She blinks away more tears, clearly still thinking about something…

  The soft side of me can’t take it. She is my stepsister, and perhaps there’s a thread of something between us that can pull us closer.

  “You’re one of the smartest women I know.”

  A tiny smile flashes. “You really mean that?”

  I adjust my glasses. “You took our academic standing to the top last year, and you weren’t even president. And Kyle is a douche.”

  “An asshat with a stupid Rolex,” she says, her voice gathering strength. “And that Porsche he bought—trust me, he is totally compensating.”

  I smile. This is the closest we’ve ever come to having a real conversation.

  I stand. “We can sit here and cry or…” I nod toward the door. “Suck it up and get to work. Keri looks like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and odds are she’s planning on making SpongeBob SquarePants the theme of this party.”

  Margo’s brows hit the roof. “Indeed.”

  Of course, I’m exaggerating, but if that’s what it takes to get her claws back out…

  I look at my nails. “Hmmm. Sometimes those pledges need to see who’s boss. This might be one of those times.”

  She straightens her shoulders. “They have no idea what kind of hissy fit I can throw.”

  Amen, sister.

  She stands and we walk out of the room together.

  We aren’t exactly friends, but my gut says we definitely aren’t enemies either.

  Penelope

  The following week, I’m late for the library as usual and practically running as I juggle my backpack and a few extra books. I’ve just turned the corner around a big oak tree when I run into Ryker. We’ve seen each other in class this week, but either Connor has been talking to me or Ryker’s been surrounded by other players or jersey chasers. Sure, I could bust through the crowd and talk to him, but my heart knows the truth: we’re avoiding each other since his visit to my house.

  We collide and several of my books fall to the ground.

  Great. I inwardly groan at my penchant for always looking my worst—in other words, a shirt that says Mother of Dragons, orange skinny jeans with holes in them, and a pair of leopard flats. At least I have lipstick and mascara on and my hair is down and tame for once.

  “Whoa!” he says as we stumble back, and he reaches out to steady me. “Slow down.”

  “Sorry,” I murmur as I bend down to pick up the books.

  He leans down to help, holding one of them up as he pops an eyebrow at me. “Dark Lover by JR Ward? Now that sounds like a literary gem.” He turns it over and skims the back.

  “It is.”

  He flips it over and studies the shirtless guy on the front. “I’ve got him beat, Red.”

  I take it out of his hands. “This happens to be a fantastic series. You might even like it. Lots of blood and gore and fangs.” I smile.

  “Really?” He stands as I do, helping me up as I open my backpack and cram the books inside. He shrugs nonchalantly and looks off in the distance. “I meant to ask you—how did the pool date go? Wasn’t it supposed to be this week?”

  “It’s been delayed. We’re going out soon.” I managed to put Connor off for a while with the excuse that I had to work.

  He sticks his hands in his pockets. “So you didn’t go out with him yet? Interesting.”

  I shrug, playing it off. “Well, you never showed me how to play pool.”

  “Oh,” he says, a thoughtful look on his face. “I can do that. How about tonight?”

  Excitement curls at the thought of him leaning over me and showing me how to hit a cue ball.

  But…

  I point to myself. “Distraction, remember?”

  He exhales, his gaze intense. “We haven’t hung out in a while. Or talked. If you can handle the proximity, I can.”

  I mull it over. I don’t have to work, and Charisma already mentioned she has plans to go to a Tau party tonight.

  “There’s a Tau party, but I’m not really in the mood to go,” he adds.

  “Okay,” I say, coming to a decision without really thinking it through.

  He smiles and we begin to walk. “Where are you headed?”

  “Library. I do a study group there when needed.”

  “Oh?”

  I nod. “Usually for lower level geometry classes.”

  “You’re some kind of genius, aren’t you?”

  I grin. “Your GPA isn’t too shabby either.”

  “How do you know?”

  I roll my eyes. “I did my research, quarterback. Also, you’re in an upper level math class when your major is psychology, so you must like numbers. Am I right?”

  A dimple pops out. “Maybe I took it because I knew it was likely you’d be in there.”

  I laugh as we walk across the quad. “You’re such a liar.”

  “Well, then I guess it was fate that we both ended up in it. I’m shocked we never had a class together before. I wonder if we would have been friends sooner.” He gets a contemplative expression on his face and halts.

  I stop with him. “What?”

  He shakes his head. “I just realized we might not have met if I hadn’t been part of the scandal last year.” His eyes find mine. “You wouldn’t have written your editorial, and Archer never would have bet me I couldn’t get you to go out with me. You never would have dumped water on me.” He laughs. “Crazy, right, that something good came out of it?”

  Indeed. I nod, my gaze lingering on the curve of his face, the way his hair curls up at the ends.

  He flashes a grin. “Plus you opened my eyes about how sucky Twilight really is—but I’d watch all of them with you if you wanted. That’s a true friend.”

  I laugh. “Thank you…I think?”

  Someone squeals his name, and we both turn to see a skinny, pretty, blonde girl in a miniskirt and a low-cut green shirt. Her giant boobs bounce as she runs toward us and grabs him in a bear hug, throwing her arms around his waist. “Ryker!”

  He’s motionless, standing with his arms at his sides as she coos over him, brushing her lips over his cheek, her hand squeezing his bicep.

  Of course, it’s none other than Sasha, the Theta who hooked up with Margo’s Kyle. I grimace, imagining what it would be like to walk in and see your boyfriend banging this Playboy lookalike. Not pretty.

  She bats her eyes up at him. “I haven’t seen you at any of the parties. We need to get together soon.” She rakes her hand across his shoulders, wiping at a nonexistent piece of lint. “You looked amazing at last week’s game, by the way. Remember that time we went to the basement after we beat LSU and I—”

  “Uh, yeah.” His face is carefully blank, and I suspect—am almost certain—she was about to recall some tryst they had.

  It says a lot about a girl that she will t
alk about her sexual exploits in front of another girl. But then Sasha’s not exactly a nun.

  My gut says he’s slept with her.

  My heart tightens.

  I have no claim to him at all, as I remind myself.

  We. Are. Just. Friends.

  “So how are you?” she says, easing in closer to him.

  “I’ve been busy with practice,” he replies, but his eyes are on me.

  I swallow and break our gaze, thinking about these confusing feelings I have for him. Because I can say all day long that I just want to be friends, but the truth is I’m so fucking hot for him that it hurts. I can’t stop writing about him. I can’t stop looking at him. And I want to pull out every blonde hair on Sasha’s head.

  What if I fall all the way for him? Is this the kind of thing I’d have to put up with?

  How can one girl ever be enough for him? My mom wasn’t enough for my dad.

  He looks down at her, a polite smile on his face. “Hey, Sasha. I’m talking to someone. Do you mind?”

  “Oh!” Sasha looks over at me as if just noticing I’m here. She smiles. “Have we met?” Her long lashes flutter against her porcelain complexion.

  Several times. “Yes.”

  She squints. “Wait. You’re a Chi O, right?”

  I nod. “I’m Margo’s stepsister.” Never in my life have I been proud to own that one. But the thing is, when you screw over a Chi Omega, the girls will line up behind her to get you back.

  “Oh.” She laughs, the sound grating on my nerves. “I suppose she doesn’t like me very much.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Just tell her Kyle was a one-time thing, will ya? No harm, no foul. She can have him back.”

  My eyes narrow, but my voice is sugary sweet and oh so Southern. “Sweetie, she doesn’t even know who you are.”

  She cocks her head. “Oh. Really? That can’t be right. I’m sure she knows—”

  “Mmmm, oh yeah, she’s moved on to bigger and better. But how nice for you to tell me it was just a one-time thing.” I smile brightly. “Take care now. Use condoms.”

  I hitch my backpack up on my shoulder, give Ryker a smoldering glare, and walk off.

  If that’s the kind of girl he goes for—my fists clench—then what on earth does he see in me?

  Ugh. Why does it even matter? Neither of us is going to act on it.

  Ryker calls my name, but I don’t stop.

  I hear footsteps behind me. It’s him. “Hey, why did you run off like that? We were in the middle of making plans.”

  My jaw tenses.

  “Red. Come on. I told her to buzz off.”

  My voice is sharp. “Like that makes it better? How many girls on this campus have you been with?”

  He flushes. “I never claimed to be a saint. I’m not the same person I was last year.”

  I snort. “I didn’t see you in a rush to get away from her.”

  “I was being polite!”

  I halt and look at him. “You shouldn’t have been!”

  His mouth parts at my vehemence, but I take off walking again and he keeps up with me.

  “Why are you so upset?” he asks. “Are you jealous?”

  “Get over yourself.” I’m breathing hard as I walk-jog.

  He takes my arm and pulls me to a stop. “You are. You can go on and on about Connor and how perfect he is, but if a girl stops and says hi to me, you storm off. Why is that?” He studies me intently. “Don’t you think that means something?”

  We stare at each other for several seconds. My chest is rising and so is his, and I almost feel that if I took one tiny step toward him he would wrap me in his arms and kiss me so fucking hard.

  “Red. Say something.”

  No. He’s the one who left my house; he’s the one who said he didn’t want to hurt me.

  “What are you thinking, Penelope?” His voice is layered with emotion.

  It’s as if he needs me to tell him something, to pour my heart out to him.

  But I can’t. I won’t.

  I inhale a sharp breath. “This distraction needs to get to the library.”

  I pull my arm away and take off in a full-on run. I probably look ridiculous running in flats and juggling a backpack, but it is what it is.

  My eyes close briefly as I hurry toward the library.

  God help me. I can’t fall for him.

  I just can’t.

  Ryker

  A few hours later, I’m in my dorm room, stewing after seeing Penelope. I clench my fists and pace around my bedroom. Fuck, I’m antsy, and all I can think about is how pissed she was about Sasha and how amped up I am that I can’t get her to admit she wants me just as much as I want her. It doesn’t matter that she’s a distraction right now. It doesn’t matter that I’ve sworn I won’t get involved with anyone.

  She’s just…different.

  My eyes land on a framed picture of my dad and me at my last high school football game, and my lips twist. If I had a solid relationship with him, maybe I could call him up and talk about this pressure I feel to be the best, to be a top pick in the draft. But my dad isn’t the kind of guy you open up to. Plus, he’s still disappointed in me after the fighting scandal.

  My chest is heavy and I scrub my jaw. There’s no one to talk to, really, about Penelope. Blaze is too immature, and Maverick lives with Delaney now so I barely see him. And Dad? Ha. He thinks women are for sex only. Guess I can’t blame him considering how my mom left us.

  I get a text and grab my phone.

  It’s from Blaze. Dude. Your girl is here at the Tau house.

  My girl?

  Penelope, asswipe.

  I exhale.

  On my way.

  I hop in the shower, and twenty minutes later I’m out the door and headed to my truck.

  The frat house is thumping with the strains of Post Malone as I walk in the door. It’s a full-scale party with people everywhere, open pizza boxes on the counter, and a keg in the kitchen. I grab a red plastic cup of beer and head to the basement where most of the people like to congregate.

  Penelope is the first person I see, and I pause mid-step on the stairs and nearly spit out my drink when I get a gander at what she’s wearing: a plaid miniskirt with a fitted white collared shirt. The buttons are done all the way to the top and a little scarf thing is tied around her neck. Schoolgirl. At first glance, it’s demure, but then I look down and see her high-heeled black boots. Good God. My teeth snap together. Her auburn hair is curled and in pigtails, and she’s not wearing her glasses—a clear sign she’s on a mission.

  Is it Connor she’s trying to ensnare? I run my eyes over the crowd, but I don’t see his familiar tall frame and dark hair. My fists unclench. Good. Sure, he’s decent, but a kernel of anger rushes through me every time I see the nerdy asshole.

  I watch Penelope and Charisma—and is that Margo? Yep. The three of them, along with several other sisters, are laughing as they dance together at the edge of the space. No dudes around them.

  I don’t even know Blaze is next to me until he speaks, his gaze on the group. “You got here fast. I see you’re watching the Chi Os,” he murmurs.

  “Nope.”

  He chuckles, and I turn to give him a sharp look.

  “Something you want to say?”

  He scratches at his head. “Dude, you’ve got a thing for her, for Penelope. Like bad.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  He shakes his head and gives me this look like he knows shit. “I’m your go-to guy with the ball, man, and I read you like a book. You can’t keep your eyes off her. Even that day at Sugar’s…” He shakes his head.

  I swallow and rub at my jaw.

  Blaze muses. “You’d have pretty babies together.”

  My eyes flare. “Are you drunk?”

  He shrugs. “I’ve had a few, but just because I’m a football player doesn’t mean I’m not romantic and shit.” A grin flashes across his face. “Plus, you deserve some good in your life. I say go for it. Win that bet and ge
t the girl at the same time.”

  He’s babbling. I squint at him, taking him in. “Question. Ever watch Twilight?”

  “Team Jacob all the way.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t even know you.”

  He shrugs. “I have sisters. Girls love that shit.”

  A slow song comes on, one of Ed Sheeran’s, and I see a group of frat boys eyeing the girls.

  Hell no.

  With a muttered farewell, I leave Blaze behind and head toward Penelope. The closer I get, the tighter my chest feels.

  What’s it going to take to make her see I’m not the person she thinks I am?

  Why does her opinion matter to me?

  I watch her toss her head back and laugh, her hair curving around her shoulders, lying in copper coils.

  “What’s up? Enjoying the party?” I say as I stop in front of them, giving them my signature cocky grin.

  “Oh. Hey.” It’s Penelope and she’s staring at me—like she does—as she takes a sip of her drink.

  I don’t even pretend to do small talk. She isn’t one for it, and I don’t want to give her the opportunity to run away from me.

  “Let’s dance.” It isn’t a question.

  I take her hand, clasp it in mine, and tug her forward. She follows.

  “Brute. She didn’t say yes,” Charisma calls out after us.

  “She would have,” I say over my shoulder.

  Penelope hasn’t said anything as we reach the middle of the makeshift dance floor. She curls her arms around my neck and looks up at me. My hands linger on her lower waist, so fucking tempted to press myself completely against her, but I don’t because my dick is a steel rod.

  My gaze wanders over her auburn hair. She’s so gorgeous it makes my teeth hurt. “Nice outfit,” I say. “Did you wear it for me?” I can’t stop the bullshit coming out of my mouth. Fuck—the truth is, I don’t know how to talk to her. Sure, I know how to flirt and fuck, but I don’t know how to really like a girl. I recall the fact that I asked her to do laundry with me. I really suck.

  “I dress for myself.” She shrugs. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  I nod, staring down at her. “You ran off today before we could finish our conversation.”