Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Two years ago, had anyone told me I’d join a frat, I would tell them they were full of shit. I had zero desire to associate with those social-climbing assholes, but unlike most of the rich pricks I’d had the misfortune of knowing growing up, Rogue wasn’t an entitled pussy. He had a rotten, rebellious streak that ran to his shady core, and the frat was a collection of reprobates most dads would tell their daughters were flaming red flags.
Gravel sprayed when Rogue peeled off. “I should have made your dumbass walk back to town…”
“Look, I saw an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”
“Whose car was it?” The stench of fresh manure crept through the air conditioner vents when he made a hard right onto a paved two-lane that cut between the pastures.
“Fuckface Brent’s.”
“That video really pissed you off, huh?”
“It has nothing to do with that video.”
“Bullshit.”
“Bro, you better be glad you guys split up. She’s hot, but even Cassie wouldn’t pull a knife on someone.”
“Right, Cassie wouldn’t pull a knife on someone.” That girl was certifiable. “She’d pull a shank and stab them with it.” I glanced at the fields whizzing past. “Heard she was over at Kappa Theta the other night…”
He hit the brakes so hard I almost got whiplash. “What? Who did you hear that from?”
I shouldn’t have delighted in it, but at least the attention was off me. “Drew said something to Bellamy about it.”
“That little fucking…” Then he went into a tirade about killing Tommy Mitchell, the president of said frat. He’d already beat the ever-loving-shit out of him after Cassie had publicly made out with Tommy during one of her and Rogue’s many break-ups.
He was still bitching about it when we parked in front of the university’s overgrown recreation field. Petey, one of our frat brothers, sat on a bench behind the sagging chain-link fence, a cloud of smoke drifting around his red head.
I slammed the passenger door shut, then headed toward the annoying chant of the cheerleaders practicing in their short shorts and crop tops.
“God bless spandex.” Rogue let out a whistle as he followed me through the open gate.
I sank to the sunbaked metal bench beside Petey, whose gaze was laser-focused on the girls shaking their stupid pom-poms. “I heard Megan Howard has a thing for you,” he said, passing me his joint.
A thing was an understatement. That girl needed a quick check-in with a psych ward. I inhaled the pungent smoke deep into my lungs. “Dude, that girl is batshit crazy.”
“A lot of that going around,” Rogue mumbled.
“I heard you took her on a romantic picnic at Sentry Lake.” Petey snorted.
I hadn’t. Unless a romantic picnic consisted of me drunkenly hooking up with her in the bathroom of one of the town’s rundown bars. One time. Three months ago.
“Do I look like the kind of guy who goes on fucking picnics?” I imagined my ass on some flannel blanket spread out on the grass and shook my head.
“No, but she sure was convincing.”
That girl had incessantly texted me for three days straight—until I blocked her. If screwing her wasn’t evidence enough of how shitfaced I was, giving her my number definitely was. Then, she’d had one of her friends come up to me at a bar and ask me to leave because Megan’s seeing me was “too hard” after what I’d done to her. Apparently, I’d promised her…something. There wasn’t enough alcohol at the Jack Daniel’s distillery to have me promising that girl shit. Not to mention, she’d tried to talk to me at almost every practice since. Yeah, being around me was really hard for her. I was the one being stalked.
“I’m not even acknowledging this crap.”
“Might want to.” Petey passed over the sign-up form.
Megan’s name had been scribbled in at the top. He gave a suggestive nudge to my ribs. I was certain that if I had been looking at him, his bushy red brows would have been waggling.
Rogue glanced over my shoulder, then thumped the paper. “How much are you going to bid on her, Wolf?”
“I’m not paying for my possible murder.”
My gaze drifted across the field to said psycho Barbie, skipping from her blond ponytail to her over-made face to her top that was way too small for all that cleavage, just before she did a backflip. There was no way in hell I was sinking my dick into that girl again. She’d probably poke holes in the condom and try to baby-trap my ass. “Why the hell did you let her sign up for the auction?”
Petey held up a hand. “I didn’t know we had a criteria.”
“I didn’t think I needed to say no batshit psychos.”
“Stop bitching, Wolf,” Rogue said, plucking the joint from my hand. “She’s crazy, but she’s hot as hell. Hot, crazy girls get bids.” He stared across the field and took a deep inhale. “My advice, though. Don’t bid on anyone else if you value your life.” Smoke billowed from his mouth when he laughed.