Hope

by Sydney Lane

  "Well, hell. Get this man a shot! We're celebratin' this shit!" He signals to our server and orders a tequila shot for me, as if he read my mind. "Been a while since we've done this." He turns and drops into the chair next to me.

  "Too long," I agree with him, taking the drink he passes my way. Seth is a big guy, not as tall as me, but broad in the shoulders with the body of the football player he is. He's also a big drinker, and tonight, he's my best friend.

  Tipping the drink back, I down half of it in one swallow. Tastes like liquid fire and burns just the way I need.

  "Atta boy!" Seth claps me on the back, almost knocking the wind out of me. He reaches over my shoulder, accepting the shots the server passes to him. Handing one to me, he holds his glass up for a toast, and I raise mine to his. "Fuck 'em!"

  My sentiments exactly.

  We tilt our heads back, swallow the contents, and slam our glasses down. No sooner than they hit the table, the server is standing beside me ready with two more. We repeat this three more times, and I finally relax, the tequila no longer burning but soothing as it slides down my throat.

  When my eyes accidentally meet Quincy's, I look away. For some reason I can't explain, I'm almost ashamed of what I'm doing. I reach for another shot, this one causing the room to spin briefly, and I feel like a four-year old throwing a temper tantrum.

  All I want to do is... forget.

  I'm almost feeling normal, like my old self, when Brody and Quincy sit at the other end of the table. The guys are talking and laughing loudly, the music pulses through the floors, and the room suddenly feels smaller, as if its closing in on me. I stand, the room spinning before settling in front of me, and excuse myself from the table. Seth glances at them, then nods as he stands with me. For once, he doesn't say anything. Even he knows there's nothing left to say.

  I know the exact moment Quincy becomes aware of me- her big, brown eyes follow me across the room. I force myself to pretend she's not there. It's hard enough to see her, but it's even harder to see the pity on her face. She feels sorry for me.

  And that pisses me off.

  I don't want her sympathy. What I wanted was her- or the idea of her- I'm not sure I know which is which anymore. I guess you could say she led me on, but the truth is she tried to tell me. She hinted that there was someone else. She gave me the cheek when I tried to kiss her. The signs were there, but I chose to ignore them.

  And Brody. God, if he looks at me like that one more time- I swear I want to hit him, the urge to knock him into next week surges through me, so powerful I have to mentally talk myself down. He was the one who should've known better. We are brothers, friends for life. Now that connection is a burden, like a shackle around my ankle. He broke my trust, and I'm not sure that can ever be repaired.

  I walk faster, slamming a mental door shut on those thoughts, and my eyes land on the mystery girl from the party. Again, she's with her friends. This time, she's wearing a ripped black shirt, exposing her bare shoulders. Another short skirt. And those boots.

  She's talking to a guy, flirting and smiling at him, as she touches her hand to his arm. Something stirs inside of me when his hand finds her ass and pulls her to him, his hips grinding against hers.

  I don't like it.

  A body like that should be worshipped, savored, not taken for granted. My eyes travel down her lithe figure, and I'm ambushed by thoughts of those legs wrapped around me while I show her how she should be treated.

  Agitated, I turn to Seth, asking, "Want another shot?" He nods, and I lean against the bar, raising my hand for the bartender. Drew, another fraternity brother, glances our way. He conveniently ignores the big black "X" on my hand, the one declaring I'm under twenty-one, and pours us another round. I reach for the shots, handing one to Seth over the heads of the girls around us. I tip mine back quickly, and the room spins again before righting itself.

  Seth punches me in the arm, tipping his chin in the direction of the bar. He leans toward me, half yelling above the noise in the bar. "Looks like Liza's on the prowl."

  My eyes follow his line of vision and clash with hers. She looks edgy, sexy, and completely in her element. Liza. What a perfect name. It suits her.

  I expect her to look away, but she doesn't. Instead, she continues to watch me, radiating a fierce energy. I look away first but not before I catch the hint of a smile on her lips.

  "Who is she?" I ask.

  "An enigma. Hot as fuck but cold as ice." He eyes her over my shoulder and shrugs. "I'd do her."

  "That's not sayin' much." Seth isn't known for being selective. He's not only a fraternity brother, he's also a football player for the University of Tennessee. I guess when it gets thrown at you on a daily basis, it all starts to look the same. However, I can't disagree with his assessment of her. I'd do her, too. Hey, I may be a nice guy, but I'm not blind.

  Brody and Quincy choose the perfect time to walk by, joined at the hip, as I'm forced to watch. Quincy's smile freezes on her face when our gazes meet, her eyes pleading with me. For what, I'm not sure, and at this exact moment, I don't particularly care.

  That ever-present knife twists in my gut, and Seth shoves another shot into my hand. I turn, catching another glimpse of Liza. Once again, she's watching me. She shakes her head and looks away.

  For some reason, I feel as if this whole night has been some kind of test, and I failed.

  Miserably.

  Chapter 4

  Eliza

  I've got to quit doing this. My head aches, my body is stiff, and my mouth tastes like ass. Last night it made perfect sense to get plastered and forget my worries. At the time, it always does.

  What seems right in the dark of night often feels like shit in the light of day.

  I groan as I roll over and slap my alarm clock, silencing it for the third time this morning. Lying on my side, I look around our small dorm room, and my eyes fall on Corrine's empty bed. For some reason, I find that comforting.

  There are just some things you don't want anyone to know.

  I close my eyes, drawing in deep, soothing breaths- a futile attempt to escape my thoughts. For the first time in a long time, I allow myself to cry.

  My mind wanders to last night. I left the club with the guy who kept buying me drinks. I have hazy memories of getting into his car, stumbling into his apartment, and removing my own clothes. He was tall with blonde hair, but the rest of the details are blurry. I think his name was Dustin. I'm not sure. From there, I have only vague memories of him touching me, pressing me into the bed as I turned my face away from him, him moaning and grunting against my neck while beads of sweat dripped from his forehead onto my chest. Not a pretty picture.

  Every time I do this, I think it's going to be different, that I might possibly find whatever it is I've been searching for, but I always wake up feeling exactly the same. It's like a flicker of light in the darkness I call life. For a brief moment, it makes me feel good. Worthy. And when it burns out, I'm left, again, in total darkness, feeling worse than I did before.

  I know I'm the one using them, but sometimes, I feel so... used. Like they're taking something, a piece of me, that I didn't know existed. But that can't be true because I have nothing left to lose. I lost everything a long time ago.

  I came to UT alone, leaving behind my family and friends. I thought it was an opportunity to start over, to forget what happened and become a new person. I had it all. I was a star athlete, and I owned the softball field. If I hadn't quit the team, I would be on full scholarship right now, probably somewhere far away from here. I was dating the quarterback and dreaming of our future together. It only took one night, one stupid mistake, to change everything.

  So, here I am. Instead of softball practice and curfews, I'm out partying it up with my “friends” and barely passing my classes. I've been here two months, and I've already slept with so many guys I don't care to remember.

  I've become a new person alright, and I'm not sure I like her.

  I hear the j
angle of keys moments before the door rattles. Frantically wiping the tears from my face, I turn over, facing the wall, and pretend to be asleep.

  Corrine is a whirlwind. Everything she does is accompanied by noise and energy. She's a tiny ball of fire and cusses like a sailor. I'm still not sure what I think about her.

  "You asleep?" she asks, plopping down on the edge of my bed. From day one, she acted like we'd known each other our whole lives. I'm not entirely comfortable with her boundary-crossing personality, but she's all I have by the way of friends.

  "I was, until you woke me up," I grumble, my voice still hoarse with sleep.

  "I tried to call you to make sure you got home last night, but you didn't answer." She sighs loudly. "Liza, I don't like it when you disappear like that. If you want to leave, just tell me. Or at least shoot me a text so I know you're safe. Capiche?"

  "Yeah, yeah," I groan, rolling over to face her. She's smiling, and her tone is concerned rather than accusatory. It actually makes me feel guilty. "I got a ride home. Sorry." I leave out the detour to Dustin Whatshisface's house. Just a minor detail in the whole scheme of things.

  "Come on, bitch. We're going to breakfast." She slaps my leg before she gets up and quickly changes clothes. In a room this small, there's no place for modesty.

  "You didn't come home either," I grumble, feeling somewhat like a chastised child.

  "You know that little black thing you carry around? The one used for communication? You'd have known where I was if you used it." Touché. "Now, chop-chop!" She smacks her hands together, reminding me too much of my former softball coach.

  I stand slowly, expecting a wave of nausea that, thankfully, never comes. Maybe I'm getting better at this whole drinking thing, after all. "Why are we in such a hurry anyways?"

  "The boys are waiting for us." She says this like it's the most natural thing in the world.

  "Uh... what boys?" Even as I ask, a sense of dread is already seeping in, my heart stuck in my throat. Something akin to panic brews in my stomach.

  "Seth and some of his fraternity brothers." She shrugs, turning to watch me. "Why?"

  "Really? Corrine, I look like shit." She raises a brow at my response. She knows that I never care what I look like, and I'd never admit, not even to myself, the reason that I suddenly do. Shit. "Oh, alright. Give me a minute."

  I remember seeing him, the guy from the party, all too well. He's the only thing I remember clearly- his haunted eyes, his short, dark hair, and his ridiculously adorable smile.

  He was watching that girl again, and I... was watching him.

  Chapter 5

  Declan

  "Rise and shine, Sleepin' Beauty! We're leavin' in five." Seth bangs on my door, nearly taking it off its hinges. I wish I could say I'd been asleep, but I'd be lying.

  After stumbling up to my room and falling into bed, I lay awake most of the night. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind took me to a time and place I'd rather forget.

  Quincy.

  Quincy smiling up at me. The feel of her lying against me. Her soft, sweet giggle. The sound of her voice. It's the same dream I've been having for months, and it always ends the same- with her walking away from me. Until last night.

  Last night, her face was replaced by another. A girl with wild, blonde hair and beautiful, red lips. I was so shocked, even in the dream, that it woke me, and I couldn't go back to sleep. I know she left with somebody else, but I can't get her out of my head.

  I quickly throw on a t-shirt and jeans before smoothing a cap over my head. After a pit stop to brush my teeth, I make my way downstairs. Seth is leaning against his truck, arms crossed on his chest.

  "What took you so long, man? I'm starvin'." He doesn't wait for an answer before he throws open the door and climbs in. As soon as I'm seated beside him, he reaches for the stereo, glancing my way. He quickly assesses me before declaring, "Dude, you look like shit."

  "Thanks." I grab a stray pair of sunglasses and slide them on. My head hates me right now. "Where are we going anyway?"

  "IHOP. The guys are meeting us, maybe Corrine and her friends." I sit up straighter, suddenly alert. I'm not sure which agitates me more- the dread of seeing Brody or the spark of interest in Liza, both quickly followed by a sharp bite of guilt.

  Seth has to know what it does to me when I see Quincy and Brody together, but he acts like he doesn't. I don't know if he's just that ignorant or if he's pulling some of his closet psychology shit. He loves to dole out random bits of advice and wisdom, things that you know you shouldn't listen to but can't help yourself. Eric calls it Sethology. I call it bullshit.

  "What's up with that girl? Liza?" I can't help myself. There's just something about the way she watches me, her eyes poking and prodding at places I'd rather keep hidden, that makes me curious.

  "Why? You interested?" He glances my way, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

  "No," I reply quickly. "What'd you mean about her being on the prowl? For guys, you mean?"

  "Something like that." He shrugs, not giving anything away. I get it. He's going to make me work for it.

  I'll bite. "Like what?"

  "Attention. Sex. What did you think I meant?"

  "Asshole." I'm not in the mood for his games, so I'm not going to play. Instead, I wait, knowing he'll tell me sooner or later. He can't stand the silence.

  It doesn't take long.

  "Nah, man, I mean there's somethin' about her. She rooms with Corrine, but she's rarely around the other girls. Corrine says she goes home by herself, but I watch her. She definitely ain't leaving alone." He shrugs, as if that explains everything.

  "So it is about guys?" He's either talking in circles or I'm still drunk from last night.

  "On the surface. I don't get it. She's so fuckin' hot, but somethin' tells me she doesn't have a clue." He glances at me, a smirk on his face. "It's what I call sex-esteem."

  I'm afraid to ask. I really am.

  "I just call it like I see 'em, Dec. She's one of those girls you think is out of your league, the kind you can look at but never touch. You'd think she must know how beautiful she is. I mean, how could she not know? Just look at her." He shakes his head in obvious disbelief. "Anyway, she sleeps around, doesn't like to talk about herself, that kind of shit. My opinion is that she hates herself, like she uses sex as a form of therapy. Sex-esteem," he says again, as if he just solved the mysteries of the world.

  I don't have time to reply before we pull into the parking lot, and the first thing I see is Brody's Jeep. Is it possible to hate something just because you associate it with a particular asshole? Because I really hate that Jeep right now.

  Seth jerks the keys out of the ignition and jumps out of the truck with not so much as a backward glance. I know it's selfish, but I wish Brody would go off to medical school already. Oh, have I not mentioned that? Yeah, Mr. Badass himself wants to be a doctor- as if he needs anything else to make him more perfect.

  I hesitate too long, and Seth raps on the window next to my face. "What's takin' so long?" I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, before pushing the door open. I fall into step behind him, wishing I'd just stayed in bed. That's a better alternative than, say, ripping my heart out through my nostrils.

  There has to be twenty people waiting for us, lined up at two long tables, and my eyes find Quincy before I even know I'm looking for her. She looks amazing, if not slightly uncomfortable, as she talks to... Liza?

  This day just keeps getting better and better.

  Chapter 6

  Eliza

  I know when he walks in, even without looking at him. This chick, Quincy, the one he's always watching, is talking to me. When she spots him, her body stiffens, and she stops talking mid-sentence, her bright brown eyes touched by sadness. She recovers quickly, but not before I see her reach for Brody's hand and clench it tightly under the table.

  And, then, of course, there's Seth. Who could miss him when he loudly announces his arrival? "The Man is in the house! Let's eat!
" He walks through, fist bumping several guys before collapsing into the chair next to Corrine.

  I force myself not to turn in their direction, but my eyes follow his back when he walks to the end of the table and takes a seat as far away from us as possible. He looks as miserable as I feel.

  As soon as Corrine and I walked in, Quincy scooted down, making room for me. She made me feel welcome immediately, introducing herself and her friend, Jenna. Before I knew it, I was laughing with both girls- girls who, by all accounts, I should hate but find myself strangely at ease with.

  The whole picture they paint is perfect, and I get lost in the easy conversation. "So, Eliza, what made you choose UT?" Quincy asks.

  "Liza...it's just Liza," I correct her because I hate the sound of my own name sometimes. "I just wanted to get away from home and their brochure was the first one I opened. You?"

  "Yeah, I wanted to get away from home, too." The tone of her voice changes, and I study her face as it transforms, as if she's remembering something, something obviously painful, while grasping Brody's hand a little tighter. He leans over, whispering in her ear, and she visibly relaxes before continuing. "So glad I did because it led me to Brody." She lifts their joined hands and lightly kisses his knuckles. He gives her a gentle squeeze before continuing a conversation with his friends. I watch the whole interaction, slightly awed and slightly disgusted at the same time.

  "If you listen to her long enough, you'll turn into a cube of sugar," Jenna interrupts. "Sometimes, they're so sweet, it's sickening." She winks at Quincy before downing half her orange juice. She jokes about Quincy and Brody, yet I can't help but notice how she leans into Eric and how he hangs onto her every word. If you ask me, both couples are nauseatingly sweet.

  Jenna reminds me a lot of Corrine, who is sitting at the other end of the table and is obviously comfortable with this crowd. She moves around the tables, laughing and talking with various people. She smoothly avoids Seth's hands on her ass, laughing as she slaps them away.

  Too much perfection in one room. As if I need any more reminders that I don't belong here.