Master Probation: A New Adult College Romance (Underground Sorority Book 2)

by Rachel Shane

  Erin nodded. “We’ll make Corey and the other guy pledges be the main contestants. They can be our secret weapon since they’re the lone guys in the entire sorority system.”

  Nate cringed at the mention of Corey’s name and I wondered if his lingering feelings were the real reason for the big giant block of space separating him from Dale.

  I let out a shuddering breath and swallowed against the realization thumping in my chest. “I have to do it. Fallon,” I explained. The girls nodded. Nate squinted at us in confusion but he’d learn about the plan soon enough. Rho Sigma had been my life saver, the thing I threw myself toward to get my mind off my past. Being a sister had lifted me up and given me new purpose, along with my publicist duties at the paper. I couldn’t afford to let the house die. If I could get Rho Sig back into our old house, my rent problems would go away. Which meant I needed to do this.

  And do it well.

  So I channeled the strength that Bianca Cruz always mustered in tough situations, squared my shoulders, and battled through. “Everyone’s going to do a satire pageant,” I said. Usually skits involved poking fun at the other sororities and a pageant theme provided the obvious framework. I suspected each sorority would put on a mini-pageant where the contestants in their skit were enhanced stereotypes from the other sororities. The Alpha Omega Chi’s would all be so nice they let the others win. The Theta Betas would opt for rugby gear in lieu of dresses. The Gamma Delt’s would come out looking gorgeous but act too stupid to follow simple directions. The Epsilon Phi Phi’s would be so high, they’d carry giant munchie bags onto the stage and spout philosophical existential wisdom instead of answering the questions. The Tri-Psi’s would march out on a feminist rant and destroy the whole competition. Meanwhile in each sorority’s version of the skit, their own house would be the perfect candidate, the one to win.

  Sure, we could do something similar. Or switch it up like Erin suggested by having Corey and our five guy pledges be our candidates, whether we dressed them in drag or let them work the room like male strippers.

  But I had a better idea. “Let’s expose the real secrets of the pageant world.”

  LATER THAT NIGHT, I put all members into a hat and each sister—and brother—picked a name to set up on a date. When everyone clutched a slip of paper in their tight fist, I pulled Erin aside. “Hey, I need you to spread the news that I’m dating Matt.” I jutted to the group of girls mingling by the basement door. “Tell whoever got me to set me up with him.”

  “Matt? Really?” She rolled her eyes. “That’s not who you want.”

  “What I want is to take Harrison down. And Matt wants a girlfriend. This is a win win.”

  Her eyes continued to roll. “Taking down Harrison? That’s not what you want either. Unless you mean down to a bed.”

  I lifted my shoulders and stomped away.

  On the night of the Mystery Date party, Quigley’s was packed. Rho Sig sisters and brothers mingled with each other, decked out in their classiest outfits. We each wore a different type of pin affixed to our left shoulders that Fallon and Mackenzie made. Our dates would waltz in wearing matching ones.

  My eyes flashed to the door and each time one of the dates approached, I let out a breath when it wasn’t Matt. Willow’s date shuffled through the door and I beamed, having set them up, which wasn’t too difficult since they’d been together for five years now. Corey and Mackenzie had already found a dark corner to make out in. I’d left their names out of the hat but let her create pins for both of them.

  Erin stood next to me, fidgeting, her vodka tonic rattling in her hand. “Hopefully this goes better than last time I was set up.”

  My stomach dropped at the reminder that Holly had sicced Harrison on her at our formal and he’d ruined Erin’s whole night with his ulterior motives. My mouth stayed dry. “Well, hopefully Harrison stays far far away.”

  The corners of Erin’s mouth quivered to hold back a smile. “I know you don’t actually mean that.”

  “I do. Very much.” The door swung open and I straightened. Dale strode in looking incredibly dapper in a swanky suit. Nate’s eyes lit up at the sight of him. Dale glanced down at his pin and then at Nate’s and his shoulders sagged in relief. Maybe he had feared someone had set him up with a girl, but he played along to be nice.

  They embraced each other in a hug…then an embrace. Nate pushed Dale’s head aside and began whispering in his ear while Dale nodded at whatever Nate must be telling him. Confessing. A smile crested my face. My work there was done.

  As each girl’s date arrived, I grew more and more antsy. Matt didn’t strike me as the type of person who would be fashionably late. But then he strode in chatting with another guy as if they had carpooled together. Vine tattoos peeked out of the other guy’s button down shirt, curling up his neck. His chin-length sandy hair was combed to one side but strands broke free of the hold and spiked upward in a chaotic array worthy of a Hollywood set. His confident swagger dissolved as soon as he peered around the room, hands in his pocket.

  Erin straightened. “Oh my God. That’s my date. Oooh, he’s cute.”

  His pink polka dot pin matched hers. And Matt’s blue stripe pin…did not match mine.

  My pulse thumped as the two boys approached us. Matt’s eyes were locked on my unmatching pin. “Wait,” he said instead of saying hello. “I thought I was your date.”

  “Nope.” Erin beamed.

  I wheeled on her, but she tilted away from me and extended a hand toward her guy. “Hi, I’m Erin.”

  The guy kept his hands in his pockets, searching the room. “Trevor.”

  Something about the tone of his voice pinged my familiarity sensors. I squinted at him. Without the guyliner and theatrics, he was hard to recognize. Add a headdress, stage lighting, some belligerent behavior and— “Oh my God.” I gasped, my hand flying to my heart. “Are you—?”

  “Shhh,” he hushed, slapping a finger against his lips. “I’m in disguise.”

  I guessed his form of disguise meant dressing normal.

  I sputtered, not understanding. “Why? But! How?” The smile on Erin’s face wavered as she volleyed her head from him to me.

  Trevor…Clever Trevor jerked his thumb toward Matt. “His doing. It seems I’m in need of a distraction.” With that Trevor strutted over to the bar, leaving poor Erin behind.

  “The girl who invited me asked if I knew anyone else,” Matt said as if that explained everything instead of nothing.

  Erin squinted, wavering between stepping toward her date and listening to the rest of our conversation.

  “And how do you know Clever Trevor?” I prompted, eliciting a gasp from Erin. She rushed over to the bar to her famous—or I guess infamous—date.

  “He came back to the arena threatening to sue at the exact right time. I diffused the situation by inviting him here. I didn’t think he’d agree.” Matt shrugged, then pointed to my pin. “I thought we were fake dating?”

  I grumbled. “I did too.”

  At that moment, our bubbly new sister Amber—the girl in Mackenzie’s major—skipped toward us, her full skirt swishing. She was voluptuous in all the right places. “We match!” She jutted her hand between Matt’s pin and hers.

  Matt looked from Amber to me then back to her. “We do,” he said, then laced his hand with hers and swept her away.

  A relieved breath flew from my lips. I wasn’t sure if it was because I wouldn’t have to pretend to date Matt. Or if maybe our deal was off entirely and I wouldn’t have to worry about what to do if he found any dirt on Harrison.

  I stood in the empty room, clutching my rum and diet, watching all the happy couples…and some not so happy set ups who stood next to each other not talking. And here I was…alone at my own party. Pity party guest list: Bianca. A lump lodged into the back of my throat.

  And then the door flew open and in walked Harrison. Wearing his leather pants.

  My stomach flipped at the sight of him. A war raged in my chest with opposi
ng emotions battling for prominence. Annoyance won out over excitement and I folded my arms across my chest. “No,” I said when he sauntered toward me.

  “Sorry to make you wait. Had to visit my sister.” He waved his hand at our matching sparkly turquoise pins.

  My head whipped around the room, eyes glaring red like a bull. What asshole set me up with him? When my gaze swept over Erin, she delivered me a wink. I let out a growl of frustration. His presence would not help my anger situation.

  Harrison’s face suddenly turned serious. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for the football game.”

  I crossed my arms. “It’s not me you need to apologize to. Find the football team.”

  “Oh, I’m not sorry about that.” He stroked his chin with his long fingers. “But I should have told you the real plan all along. I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

  I stifled a twinge in my chest. Though the apology wouldn’t change the fact that he essentially made me an accomplice, it was nice to know he felt bad about it. It was nice to see remorse in him.

  The song changed and to my extreme annoyance, our song came on. Clever Trevor’s song. A few people in the audience booed. Trevor tossed his glass on the floor in a show of rock star etiquette that earned a couple gasps from nearby partiers. Erin rested her hand on his shoulder and tried to re-direct him toward the bar, but he swatted her away and stormed to the DJ booth.

  Harrison lifted his head. “Oh, nice. I didn’t even need to request it.” He held out his hand to me. “Song? Check. Leather pants? Check. Girl in need of getting some?” He eyed me up and down. “Check.” He leaned in so close his musky cologne filled my nose. “What do you say? Find a secluded corner and reenact the concert dance?”

  Heat radiated in my core at that suggestion, but I backed up a step before my body took over for my brain. “Seriously,” I said. I knew I was supposed to finish my command with the word stop but it wouldn’t budge past my lips. I downed the rest of my drink in one gulp, coughing from the hard spike of alcohol sliding down my esophagus, and stalked to the counter just to have an excuse to walk away.

  Harrison leaned next to me as I ordered and held up two fingers to the bartender, which obviously put more bad thoughts in my mind. He slid a twenty onto the counter to cover both drinks. I should thank him. Or maybe throw my drink in his face.

  He pushed my drink toward me. “I want to make it up to you somehow. Make things right.”

  “You can start by getting me a raise at the newspaper,” I said mostly to be snarky but also to stop thinking bad thoughts.

  He blinked, clearly not expecting this, but then he nodded. “Consider it done. I’ll talk to Genevieve tomorrow.”

  Now it was my turn to blink. He’d really do that for me?

  “I have some other ideas for how to make it up to you.”

  I sighed and sucked on my straw, flicking my tongue against it and looking up at him from beneath my eyelashes. It was a sexy trick that always worked. Why was I using it on him? “Like what?” I asked in my most sultry voice.

  “Like dropping off all the surveillance equipment at your doorstep right before I came here. You can use them on Layla.”

  My shoulders sagged in relief. I couldn’t afford the hefty fee for them but without them, we’d likely never get the evidence we needed. “Thank you.” My voice came out sincere and Harrison alighted, rising a little taller.

  “And I have one more idea, but I’m not sure I should tell you.” He trailed his fingertip from my shoulder to my wrist in a methodical dance. “It’s kind of a spoiler.”

  My eyelashes fluttered closed as I savored the feel of his finger on my bare skin. Until I remembered I’d vowed not to engage in this type of behavior with him. My eyes popped open, When I opened my eyes, then locked on something over his shoulder. Trevor, glaring at us.

  Reality slammed back into me like a punch in the gut. “Clever Trevor’s here.” I jutted my chin toward the very generic looking guy raking his hand through his hair. Somewhere in the rapture of Harrison, the song must have changed, because a slow melodic tune crooned through the room.

  Trevor’s eyes locked on Harrison’s leather pants and like a bull, he charged.

  Harrison leaped in front of me to shield me, exposing himself to the wild guy with enough stage presence to command even this room, too. Everyone stopped what they were doing and twisted their heads at the exact right time for Trevor to sink his fist directly in Harrison’s jaw.

  They both howled in pain, Trevor clutching his fist, Harrison rubbing his jaw.

  “You fucking asshole!” Trevor shouted while a bouncer held him back. “You ruined my life!”

  “Nope. You did that all by yourself,” Harrison said, clenching his jaw. “All I did was let people know.”

  Trevor tried to charge for Harrison again but a bouncer dragged him out of the bar.

  Other guys converged toward Harrison with the same angry expressions on their faces. Accusations flew as fast as Harrison’s pick up lines. You destroyed the football team! I’m out two hundred bucks for season tickets! My football scholarship’s been revoked!

  They all stormed toward him like an angry mob.

  I grabbed Harrison’s hand and tugged him away, past the DJ booth, and out into the back alley. I leaned against the door to prevent anyone from following. A bitter chill whipped my hair up around my shoulders. Harrison shuddered, bracing one palm against the wall and wincing in pain.

  I reached up to touch his cheek. “Are you okay?”

  He let me trail my fingers over the blue bruise already forming. “I am now,” he whispered.

  His words lured me on a fishing line, drawing me closer until his hungry gaze snapped me out of my trance.

  “Good.” I swung my hair in his face and strutted back inside, before he made me lose control, forget everything, drag me down with his sinking ship. I sniffed hard to replace the glorious scent of his cologne with the smell of body odor and spilled drinks.

  MY HANDS SHOOK AS I stood among the crowd in the packed Quigley’s, which was hosting the Beta Chi skit event. I was starting to think nothing good happened when I stepped foot in here. A make-shift wooden stage rested below the DJ booth. Without the usual music pumping, the cacophony of chatter sounded dissonant to my ears. Sorority girls milled about, decked in various costumes, most of which consisted only of bikinis, as I expected. I waved to Holly, who wore a glitzy evening gown and a hand sewn sash around her body with the words Epsilon High High embroidered and a giant dildo-shaped bong in her hand. Yep, the other houses were so predictable.

  Except Layla. She and her team of cronies wore normal bar clothes, slutty for sure, but there were no obvious costumes for their skit. They’d dubbed themselves Rho Sigma Delta and I assumed the D stood for dumb. Or maybe drunk. Or even depressingly boring. I could go on. Layla strutted up to where I stood with Mackenzie and Erin, swinging her hips as if she were trying to hypnotize me to the dark side. “Wow. I’m surprised they let you guys in.” She tapped a finger against her pursed lip. “No, wait, it makes perfect sense. This is a charity drive, after all.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Does that mean you’re planning on stealing from it, too?”

  Her nostrils flared. She thought she had the upper hand but what she didn’t realize: it was the sleight of hand that always won.

  She stalked away and I swiveled to beam my triumph at Mackenzie and Erin, who were giggling. The smile dropped off my face as my eyes locked on a catastrophe behind them. A few feet away, Harrison leaned against the counter, drink in hand, watching me. He lifted his brows a few times in succession and my stomach did a little flip at how nauseated I was to see him. Definitely not because of how cute he looked. Not at all. The purple bruise covering his cheek gave him a certain authority that kept the others away. I should not engage. I should not engage.

  I stomped toward him.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, even though lots of other fraternities had come out to suppo
rt Beta Chi and their charity. Plus who wouldn’t want to see girls strut around on stage in pageant wear? It was a fantasy a lot of them had. I knew that first hand. My chest hollowed out at that thought.

  He lifted his beer up. “Drinking. In a bar.”

  I sipped my own rum and diet. “Illegally.” Though technically he’d also done the same thing at the Mystery Date party two nights ago.

  He shrugged. “We both know the Greek Org has a very lazy stance on what goes down at philanthropy events. All for a good cause, right?” His eyes roamed over my poofy-teased hair, past my false eyelashes and glittering blue eye shadow, over my stuffy business suit, the one I should have worn to the football arena. “Where’s your bikini? Seems to be the attire of choice for tonight.”

  His mention of my swim suit made my shoulders tense. Flashes of our beach tryst pulsed in my brain—and deep in my core.

  Harrison leaned in, brushing his lips against my ear. My eyelids fluttered closed at the goosebumps popping along my skin. “Oh, that’s right,” he said. “Still in the ocean.”

  All of a sudden, some big dude with a backward cap and bloodshot eyes pushed Harrison. He lurched, crashing into me and my side smashed into the counter. Harrison caught his balance, straightening as his jaw tensed.

  “Fucking asshole,” the guy spat into Harrison’s face. A few others hollered their approval but the bouncer crossed his arms and they backed off.

  Harrison shook his head. “Man, people are so uncreative,” he said, then raised his voice to the guy. “At least use an interesting insult!” He turned to me. “Do you know how many people have called me a fucking asshole? Seventy-three.”

  I readjusted my suit. “I could make it seventy-four if you want?” I teased.

  Harrison sipped his beer, holding back his smile at my joke. “I guess some people had an unnatural attachment to a team they didn’t play on.”

  I brushed my fingers over the bruise on his cheek. “Does this hurt?”

  “It’s a badge of honor.” His eyes flashed to mine with an intensity that robbed me of breath. “I got it defending you.”