Page 65 of Begging for Mercy
Rather than write a reply, I hit the call button and pray that she answers. After the third ring, her voice rumbles through the speaker, scratchy and hoarse, like she either has a cold or she hasn’t been using it at all over the past week. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s been avoiding talking to people. “Hello?”
“Mercy,” I breathe, my heartbeat stuttering. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
There’s a beat of silence that I’m desperate to fill. “How are you? I left you messages.” I wince, knowing that it’s stupid to bring that up. Of course, she knows that I’ve left her messages. “Nevermind. You wanted to ask me something?”
“Can I—” She takes a small breath. “Can I come over? I’d rather ask you in person, and… there’s more I want to say.”
“Of course you can come?—”
A car whizzes by, the passengerwhoopingloudly as they see me in my letterman jacket. “Gonna get smashed, Harlot!” He sticks his hand out the window and flicks me off as they drive away. Their bumper sticker proudly supports the opposing team for next week’s game.
Shit, the pregame party’s tonight. All Greek life has to be there to continue the annualHarlots’traditions of getting wasted and pretending we like it. My house will be trashed. It’s the last place I want to bring Mercy.
“There’s a party at my place, though,” I backtrack, kicking myself for it. I’d love to lock her away in my room for even an hour or two so that I can apologize for everything I’ve ever done wrong in my life. “Can I come to yours?”
“I need to get out of the house,” Mercy admits sheepishly. “I don’t mind the party. Do I need to bring anything?”
Is she seriously coming to a frat party?
“Uhh—” I quickly file through everything people usually bring to parties. Condoms. Alcohol. A designated driver. A pack of friends. A change of clothes. Sensible shoes.
“Sam?”
“Just yourself!” Pounding my fist against my forehead, I internally scream. I’m such an idiot. I need to steer her away from coming. “It’s a big party, so everything’s taken care of. Wear closed-toe shoes. And pants.” There’s no way in hell I want anyone trying to look up her skirt tonight. “And maybe pin your hair back.”
She sighs. “Any other requests, Your Majesty?”
“Don’t leave my side.” This is the most important part. “And don’t set your drink down. Only drink what I give you. Don’t take anything from strangers.”
“Got it. What time should I be there?”
“I’ll come get you.” That way, I can check her outfit before she comes over. If it’s too revealing, maybe I can convince her to change without her getting pissed off about it.
We hang up after confirming the time, and I stare at my phone for a solid minute, unable to believe my eyes.
Mercy
Looking forward to it :)
I run the rest of the way to my truck, eager to pick up the beer and sprint home to clean my room before tonight. Mercy’s never been inside, and I have to make sure that everything is perfect. I won’t mess this up. At the least, I’m getting my best friend back, and at best…
I’m getting back into the race to win Mercy’s heart.
Chapter 23
Mercy
I don’t get invitedto college parties. To be invited, you have to have friends who are either going or hosting, and that’s never applied to me. Technically, Sam didn’t even invite me. I invited myself. But I need to get out of the house after a week of stagnation.
A party will ensure that we’re not alone.
Sighing, I braid my hair over my shoulder and fiddle with the ribbon at the end, wondering if it looks silly or too girlish. It’s a bright crimson, tied into a bow, which I quickly undo. Then I rebrand my hair and weave the ribbon in the strands, tying it into a knot at the end. That could work. I don’t feel nearly as girly without the bow.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
KANE
