Adversaries by T.L. Hodel

Iglanced at the Gucci watch my father gave me for Christmas. Was it only ten-thirty? Ugh, this was the worst date ever.

“Coach said he had the best time on the team.”

My brow cocked as my date’s chest puffed out with pride. Why did I agree to this? The guy was cute, light hair and dark eyes. The designer jeans and red polo shirt he was wearing told me he had some style.

His downfall was the mind-numbing boredom of constant sports talk. What was it with football players?

“I tackled that prick faster than…”

With a sigh, I looked down at my hand. I’d had this French manicure for almost a week now. Maybe Yui was still up? Booking a manicure would kill five minutes. This time, I might go with a more vibrant color, like blue or green.

It would narrow down my outfit choices, but I could always go shopping for that, and there was the cutest little purse I had my eye on.

My date’s hand skimmed down my back. “That dress looks great on you.”

Of course, it did.

“Thanks,” I grumbled and drained the last of the beer from my red solo cup. “You don’t look so bad yourself…”

Fuck…what was his name? Tim? Tom?

He leaned in and waggled his eyebrows. “I bet you’d look even better on my bed.”

That was the best pickup line he could come up with? Seriously? Guess I shouldn’t expect too much. His idea of a good date wasn’t going out for dinner or to a movie.

No, this idiot took me to a frat party. Instead of enjoying a nice crème brulee, I was trapped in a stinky house full of drunk boys and horny girls.

“What do you say, Sweet Thing?” My date wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me into him.

I hummed and cocked my head at the Alpha Theta Sigma paddle hanging on the wall. The handle wasn’t propped up properly. One hard bang and that thing was coming down on someone’s head.

“You wanna test my bed theory?”

My gaze shifted from his attempt at a charming smile to the group gathered by the stairs. They were all carefree, talking and laughing. Did they not see the paddle? And don’t even get me started on the guy with a rat tail.

Tim or Tom ran his nose up my neck. “I bet I could show you a better time than any of those small-town boys you’re used to.”

I highly doubted that.

Why was no one doing anything about that paddle? Oh, for Christ's sake. Did I have to do everything myself?

I shrugged out of my date’s embrace, snatched a pair of scissors off the counter, and strutted over to the group.

Using the scissors, I carefully push the paddle into a more secure spot, because I wasn’t touching that thing. After which, I spun around, looked at the guy with the rat tail, and quickly snipped it off.

“No,” I said, slapping the braided lock of hair and scissors in his palm. “There’s no excuse for this shit.”

His mouth opened with unspoken words as I walked back to my date, who looked just as shocked as the other guy.

“You were saying?”

“Uh, right.” He shook the shock off his face and smiled. “Do you wanna–”

I pressed my finger to his lips, cutting him off.

Bailey, my Mayberry roommate, was slumped over the couch across the room, clearly drunk. Not particularly out of place. This was a party, after all.

Half of the sorority was stumbling around this place. My problem came from the punk Bailey was giggling at and the way he kept checking out her ass.

“Another paddle catch your eye?” My date tipped his head, “because I’ve got one in my room.”

Oh God, this idiot was going to make me throw up.

“Hold that thought,” I muttered and left.

I could deal with whatever his name was later. Hey, maybe I’d luck out, and he’d find someone else to hit on?

Thankfully all those high school parties prepared me for elegantly making my way through a crowd of drunken morons. Some I pushed out of the way, while others I simply stepped over.

Of course, there was always that one person who thought I was their best friend and hung off me like a cheap suit. Not too hard to get rid of. It was just a matter of redirecting her to someone else. In this case, a strapping young football player who was just as inebriated as she was.

By the time I reached the green couch Bailey was sprawled across, I was more than ready for this night to end.

“Come on, Bailey,” I grabbed her arm and pulled her up, “It’s time to go.”

The guy she was giggling with apparently didn’t like me interrupting them because he stood up and rolled his shoulders back.

“I got her,” he lifted his hand to touch her face. “We were having fun, weren’t we, Hailey?”

I slapped his hand away. “Her name is Bailey.”

The guy was clearly a rapist. How hard was it to remember a name?

This prick was going to give me a hard time. I could tell by the way his jaw ticked.

Bailey broke the tension by giggling and flopping her head back on my chest. “Q is cute.”

Q? Really?

“No, he’s not,” I grumbled and hoisted her up. At least she was small. There was no way I could hold someone my height up in these shoes. “You’re drunk.”

Bailey pouted, “But I only had one drink.”

“Is that so?” My eyes narrowed on Q’s stupid smirk. I fucking knew it. “Ava!”

A few seconds later, my friend came busting out of a back room. Her blonde hair was sticking out through the face grill of a football helmet, and a pair of shoulder pads were draped over her shoulders. I didn’t want to know where her pants were or how she got the pink tutu.

“Bailey’s drunk,” I said as she came running up.

“You want me to take her home?”

I cocked a brow down at Ava’s almost five-foot frame. “How are you going to take her home?”

Ava cocked her hip and took a minute to size up Bailey before she jumped up, clapped her hands, and ran off with a squeal.

Well, that was super helpful.

“I can take her home.”

My gaze snapped back over to the prick that drugged my roommate.

“Listen, Q,” I snarled while poking my finger in his chest, “go find some other girl to rape, this one’s mine.”

She wasn’t mine, mine. Other than a couple of threesomes I’d had with Logan, I had no interest in riding down that train. When I said Bailey was mine, I meant one of my girls.

Yeah, she was small town and had shit for fashion sense–she was still sporting pigtails for Christ’s sake–but she was in the same sorority. Lord knows how she got there, but there she was, which made her a ‘sister’ as the housemother called it, and therefore mine.

I sure as hell wasn’t going to let some jock douchebag steal her virginity because she was too naive to know better than to take a drink from a stranger.

Q’s jaw dropped. “I wasn’t going to–”

“Run along, little boy,” I waved my hand, dismissing him.

He muttered a few choice words but promptly left. A short time after, Ava came back pushing a friggin wheel-barrel.

“Okay, I got it.”

I glanced down at the red bucket. “A wheel-barrel?”

“Yup,” Ava nodded.

“You’re going to push her home in a wheel-barrel?”

Her grey eyes sparkled as her nose scrunched up at me. “Uh, yeah?”

She seemed almost insulted that I would question this logic because taking someone home in a wheel-barrel was apparently a normal everyday thing in her mind right now.

Tomorrow, she might be building a go-cart out of milk cartons? Funny thing is, I guarantee that go-cart would not only work but would kick every other cart’s ass. So, I shrugged and dropped Bailey’s deadweight in the trough.

Whatever. I wouldn’t have to carry her, so it worked for me. Besides, Ava seemed to be having fun. She ran through the house, making siren sounds. Which I assumed she’d continue to do until they got home.

Though, I was kind of curious how she planned on getting Bailey up the stairs. I might’ve even went with them if my date hadn’t come over.

“You want to get out of here?”

God yes.

“I can walk you home?”

Ugh, he had to come.

I sighed, “Alright, let’s go.”

It took a few minutes to get through the crowd and exit the house, but I felt a little relieved the second we stepped out into the night air. Not completely. I mean, Tom was still here, so…

Tim slung his arm over my shoulder, and I pretended to listen to his jabbering as we strolled down the sidewalk. Other than the music coming from his frat house, the campus was fairly quiet.

The harmony of a soft breeze mingling with our footsteps reminded me of home. The way Ashen Springs stilled under the moonlight filled me with a sense of serenity.

That peaceful feeling was different here. I still got the graceful sway of plant life moving in the dark, and the moon still cast a glow over the ground, but it wasn’t still. I suppose no city this size was.

There was always someone out and about or cars driving down the street. It was that active life that made me appreciate moments like this more. Times, when for just a few minutes, the world stopped, and I could hear myself breathe.

This moment was destroyed by a single sound. A growl rumbled through the air, slicing through my ears as a Harley rolled past. My gaze locked on the face of the driver, who smirked at me and shot down the road. What the hell was Tanner doing here?

Was Chase with him?

Tim stopped and eyed Tanner’s retreading form. “Maybe we should go back?”

Everyone on campus knew about what happened. Sororities weren’t typically shot at, so it was kind of big news. Some people thought it was exciting. Others speculated that one of us was in the mob or something.

Then, there were the people who avoided the house because they were scared. Apparently, my date was the latter.

“You’ll be fine,” I said and tugged him down the sidewalk.

We made it two steps before he pulled away.

“I should go. I have to get up early for practice and…”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

That was all he needed to hear. Tom took off yelling, “I’ll call you,” over his shoulder.

“Please don’t,” I grumbled and continued on my way home.

When I walked into the Pi Kappa house, I was greeted by grunts and groans. At first, I thought one of the girls was getting it on in the sitting room. Last week, Cammie had a guy over, and we all saw more than we cared to. The sound wasn’t coming from there, though.

It was coming from the stairs, where Ava – still dressed in her football/ballerina attire – was tugging on a sheet. At the other end, wrapped up in the red cloth, was a passed-out Bailey.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking her to bed.” Ava planted her feet on the step and pulled with all her might.

Her face strained with the effort it took her to drag Bailey up one step.

I let out a breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Why didn’t you just put her on the couch?”

Ava stopped mid-tug and furrowed her brows at a doorway to the left, where a pillowy couch could be seen.

“Huh? That’d probably be easier.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Here, I’ll help you.”

I moved to scoop up Bailey, but Ava jumped down the stairs and pushed me away.

“I can do it.”

“Ava…”

“I can,” she wrapped the sheet around her waist and stormed across the hall, dragging Bailey behind her. “See?”

I’d met a few girls with a Napoleon complex. Micha’s girlfriend Riley, being one of the most predominant, but she didn’t have shit on Ava. I could ignore her and put Bailey on the couch myself.

That wouldn’t solve anything because Ava would push her off, roll her back to the bottom of the stairs and do it herself. When she got an idea in her head, no one, and I mean no one was going to convince her otherwise. Which, in this case, appeared to be the continuing care of Bailey.

“Fine,” I waved my hand and walked up the stairs.

It’d be nice to have the room to myself anyways. Bailey’s patchwork quilt and little handmade trinkets were a strain on my eyes. I wasn’t used to sharing my space. A large part of me suspected that Ava housed us together on purpose. It, sure as hell, wasn’t for Bailey’s benefit.

I was not what some considered nice. If someone looked fat in their pants, I was going to tell them. We’d been here for two weeks now, and I’d made my Mayberry roommate cry seven times.

Not that I was keeping score, but she had run away sobbing more times than Cammie, and that girl was an utter moron. Bringing some redneck, piece-of-trash in the house. What was she thinking?

I stripped off my dress, slipped into a teddy, and crawled into bed.

I could understand Cammie’s choice if the guy was at least good-looking. Nice firm muscles and strong hands that could really dig into a girl’s ass. The kind of guy that could hold her up against the wall and just take what he wanted, that I could understand.

Maybe a couple tattoos and a little bit of facial hair. Not too much, though, just enough that it would scratch her skin when he kissed her.

Someone like Chase. Yes, the man was a brute and utterly insufferable, but he was okay to look at. All hard, and demanding, and big.

My breath picked up as my hands danced across my stomach.

Holy crap, was he big. Not the kind of big that would scare a girl off. He was the kind that would stretch her open and fill her up completely.

‘That’s the difference between a boy and a man.’

I slipped my hand under my lace thong and slid my finger through my folds. Spreading them open like I imagined he would do.