Page 66 of Pin-up Girl

Then my happy ass went down the path of wondering if I could actually be the girl I needed to be to keep the kings. I wanted to be. I wanted to try.

“Elise? You in there?” Emmett snapped his fingers in front of my face.

We were parked, and everyone was already out of the car, standing on the curb. I had gone so deep into my own thoughts, I hadn’t paid attention to anything around me.

“Yeah.” I climbed out, and again, Emmett backed up quickly, obviously trying to avoid any contact with me.

One of the brothers joined us on the walk up to the steps. He bumped shoulders with me, his light blue gaze twinkled with mischief.

“You all look like someone ran over your mother. Why the long faces? Are these outfits from yesterday? That’s a different take on the walk of shame.” He was vaguely familiar. Ah, he was the one who supervised fountain day. Felix, I thought was his name.

No one answered him. “Oh, come on.” His accent was so crisp and posh. He couldn’t have hid his privilege if he’d tried.

Milo sighed. “What do you want, Felix?”

“Party tomorrow night in the city. At Derek’s place. You’re expected as the president.” He jogged past us and opened the door, his tight workout shirt molded to his slender frame. “Frat and sorority only.” He trailed his gaze over my body. “But I’m sure no one will put up a fuss if you bring your Pin-up.”

I didn’t like the sound of their nickname for me on his lips. When the guys called me Pin-up, it felt cute and possessive. When he said it, disgust and rage battled for dominance. Jules must not have liked it either, because he flipped Felix the bird.

“Hey now. Don’t shoot the messenger. I’ll see you guys later.” He winked at me and grinned at the guys.

“Fucking prick,” Emmett muttered under his breath.

Guys tried to talk to Milo, but he brushed them off. He wasn’t even trying to pretend to care about the frat the last few days. If he wasn’t careful, they’d stage a mutiny.

Jules left us to go to his room, no goodbyes, nothing. The door didn’t slam, but the soft click was just as loud. Milo’s steps faltered as Emmett peeled away.

“I need a nap in the worst way. I’ll find you guys later.” Then he was gone, too.

“Do you want me to go to a spare room?” I couldn’t meet Milo’s gaze. Why did it feel like they all wanted nothing more than to get away from me? I could give them that, maybe I needed time alone to regroup, too.

He swiped a hand over his face and resumed walking down the hallway. That must be president speak for no, so I followed behind him like a good little Pin-up. My skin itched from the stares drilling into the side of my head. The white banister on our left barely hid the boys congregating below. They were standing in a circle, red cups in hand, but they were listening to us. Their lack of conversation was a dead giveaway.

Most of the time, staying in this monstrosity of a house with drunken frat boys didn’t bother me, but today it did.

Milo held the door open for me at the end of the hallway, even in his wrinkled suit from last night, he seemed cool and confident. I slid past him into the staircase to his room, thankful for the security it provided against the rest of the frat brothers. In his room, I kicked my shoes off and grabbed a big T-shirt and boy shorts.

The first time they brought me here, it had seemed cold, impersonal. Everything was tidy and gave off rich boy vibes. Then it was just Milo’s room, the place where we were safe and could relax. Only now, it didn’t feel so safe.

I paused in the door to the bathroom. “Do you want to shower first?” This time, I chanced a look at him, but he was closed off. Since he came out of his father’s house, he seemed off. Not that he was so easy for me to read, he was actually the hardest one to crack of the three. I understood Jules almost immediately, this shiny tenuous thread that connected him to me. With each minute we spent together, it got stronger and stronger, until it felt nearly indestructible. My playboy Emmett had been different. At first, I hadn’t trusted him, seeing him as a one-dimensional professional panty dropper. But the asshole weaseled his way past my defenses. Where I was connected to Jules by a beautiful thread, I carried Emmett under my skin.

Milo though, he was the one I hadn’t quite figured out. He tried to be the strong one for everyone, carrying as much responsibility and guilt as he could shoulder, so we didn’t have to. He’d been the only one that hadn’t tried to get to know me on a deeper level—happy to just be in my presence. The idiot I was, I allowed it because I wanted to keep my secrets.

Now I wished I had spewed them every chance they gave me, giving them every reason to want to stay with me.

“No, you go ahead. I have some phone calls to make anyway.” He turned his back in a clear dismissal.

I quietly shut the door. Two weeks ago, I would have stormed up to him and tossed his shit back in his face. In all their faces. Why the fuck was it so different now? Oh, maybe because I’d cracked open my chest for their inspection, and instead of accepting that I had no choice, they wanted to be pissy little dickwads.

Whatever, I would use the shower to build my walls back up. The hot spray of water was therapeutic, washing away the metaphorical grime from last night. My familiar pajamas took a little bit more of the pain away. It was too early for bed, but sometimes, a girl just needed to be comfortable.

Feeling fresh and clean, I exited the bathroom, only slightly curious about what Milo was doing. He was very quiet while he was on the phone, only low murmuring traveling through the door while I was undressing and dressing. Of course, the shower drowned out anything else.

He stood at his dresser, fingering a few knick-knacks on top that looked more like strategic decorations than sentimental pieces. His shoulders were knotted together like he was trying to shrug away our problems, but life didn’t work like that. I padded softly to him until I was right behind him. If he heard me, he wasn’t letting on.

With a small amount of hope, I reached out to touch his back, thinking just maybe this would be the moment everything turned right between us.

As soon as my fingertips touched his shirt, he jerked away from me, banging his hip into the dresser.

---