Page 17 of Study Games

More than anything I wanted to strip her down to who she really was and reveal that to herself. Waiting to find out what the world wanted from her? Fuck that. She could be taking on the world, rule it and shatter it apart, and she didn’t even know it. That brain of hers was sexier than it had any right to be.

I might tease the ever loving shit out of her for a warped sense of humor, but I’d do anything to break her out of her sheltered little beehive bubble she existed in.

Then watch her take on the world, just to see her break it.

Just for giggles, because her high and mighty cover up attitude still annoyed the shit out of me.

I headed directly for my accommodation on the other side of campus from our study session. Frat houses popped up between strategically placed copses, the thick greenery the perfect distraction and deterrent for many a student, and cover for others. When I turned up at Rippton, my father’s approach was to throw his Kingsman old frat house at me in the form of a mentor, rather than me at it, and hence here I stood.

But in a sense it worked, allowing me to have the camouflage that protected me from everything I didn’t want by giving me a freedom I otherwise couldn't claim alone.

I approached the large house from the side, my key in my hand to slip in through the mostly unused entrance.

The thought of living in a fraternity house initially crippled my artistic sense, but at least I wasn’t technically a part of the group. My head couldn't deal with that. I was the freaky artist in residence with cheap rent I didn’t care about and oddly enough, a solid gym buddy.

I leaned one hand on the glass door still covered in marker doodles from the last time I locked myself out. For a single, memorable, and frigid night I slept on the threshold, too drunk to find the front of the house but still conscious enough to hold a pen and create a collage of penises complete with hairy balls shaped like lemons.

Who knew how the creative mind worked when picked in black vodka.

Not me, that was for sure, because I still didn't believe the shitty artwork was mine until one of the boys showed me my signature–sloppy, sideways and barely legible–but mine all the same, cramped in the bottom corner of the door frame.

And so the citrus-flavored dicks stayed, ala a tribute to A Clockwork Orange.

After that, I’d passed some sort of invisible test and been somewhat accepted into the household. The arrangement suited me just fine. I got an attic space to work in, and their weekly parties didn’t bother me. Their superfans, however, did.

Some of the hanger-ons were fucking madness I couldn’t shake.

“Hi, Jax!” a too-happy, forced, over-girly, I’m-annoying-as-fuck voice chattered at me from behind.

Stepford wives in training, behold your next generation kin.

Another reason I didn’t share the frat-boys appreciation for said shrubbery. A man was as like to be accosted within the scratchy depths as use them for a little strategic concealment. I shot a quick glance over my shoulder. A head of too bleached hair, thinly plucked eyebrows, and a fake as fuck smile gleamed back at me.

“Mindy.” I groaned internally. She’d been after my roommate for the better part of a year, and gave dodgy guys a bad rep for her tenacity alone. “He’s not home.”

She pouted, and it sure as shit wasn’t pretty.

I winced.

“Going my way?” She wiggled the lines above her eyes—to call them eyebrows was an insult to hair follicles the world around—and shook her low cut, white tee covered plastic tits at me.

Pretty sure Waverly’s tits are the real thing.

A test I needed to put into practice, because curiosity killed the cat and I was up for a game of castration. I knew without reserve that’s what the girl would do the moment I touched her again, even if i promised her more pleasure than she could handle

And I wanted to see her shatter under my touch again so damn bad I’d barely been able to sleep for the last nights. Not that she’d let me. Still, I saw the way she looked at me, like my brand of pain and addiction might somehow speak to something within her…

My fantasy was ruined by the creature in front of me who was most definitely not Waverly.

“Not if I can help it.” I forced bile back down my throat at the thought of touching anyone other than my cautious little beekeeper, shoved the key in the lock, and marinated my current obsession of bees and the girl who I wanted to tease again soon.

Opening the door for a space only large enough for myself and my laptop to slip through I closed it in Mindy’s face, the glass rattling in its frame with the force of my panic to shut her out. I sucked in a deep breath, inhaling the memory of honeydew, and waved to Mindy from the safe side of the glassed, doodle-covered door.

Mindy wrinkled her nose. Her eyes flashed in my direction as she dropped the pouty act–the first true expression she gave me–and turned on her three inch strappy heels to flounce down the path, no doubt heading to the next frat house where she kept a sorority-grade harem or two for horny day emergencies.

The Cheerleaders of Death tribe hung about the Allstars campus sports teams like a bad smell that never left the locker rooms. She wasn’t my taste; none of them were. I worked on pushing my own couldn’t give a fuck persona when all I wanted was a girl with a creative brain who took the time to understand how I saw the world.

To say my tastes were eclectic was…pushing it in a building where tits and ass constituted a main course and a national salute all at once.

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