Page 59 of Sour Lollipops and Sweet Nightmares
In the short time I’d been here, I had interactions with exactly five guys. One made sex appointments, and another one violated me in the cafeteria while the other three watched.
And now I was staring at a house where four out of those five lived. What would the other dozen or so guys be like? I didn’t like crowds of any kind, but going into this place felt about as safe as walking into a bear’s cave.
With a tight breath, I eyed the three steps leading to the dark blue door I wasn’t sure I wanted to knock on.
Was a bag really worth it? I could get another one. Maybe not exactly like it, seeing as Grandma wasn’t around to remakeit, but there were a lot of bags out there. None of those were graduation presents, however. And I’d have to give up the tiger’s eyes necklace Mom made for me.
The bag meant something to me, but not as much as the necklace. I gave Mom the tiger’s eye when I was eight. She surprised me with a necklace before I left for Renfrew.
When she fastened it around my neck the night before, she said, “Whenever you feel out of place, I want you to look at this necklace and remember that passion comes in all forms, Georgia. You aren’t weird, you are brave enough to follow your passion.”
My mother—the former beauty queen—not only held on to a rock I gave her as a kid, but she was proud of my accomplishments that had nothing to do with my looks. I honestly never thought that day would come. That was what that piece of jewelry represented.
My mother’s acceptance. How could I let that go?
The short answer was, I couldn’t.
“Damnit,” I grumbled as a guy in a varsity coat strutted up the walk.
“Don’t be upset,” he gave me a sly grin, which wasn’t at all sly. “Jimmy is here.”
Who was Jimmy? Should I know this?
The way his gaze swept down my side made me want to take a step back.
“You’re cute, in a frumpy way.”
My brows knit as he nodded in some kind of weird approval I didn’t ask for or want.
“Jimmy likes it.”
Wait, was he Jimmy? Was he talking about himself in the third person? Did people do that?
“What do you say we take this conversation upstairs to Jimmy’s room?”
Now I was totally confused. Was he Jimmy, or was he talking about someone else named Jimmy, whose room he for some reason wanted me to go up to? Who was Jimmy? A question I was about to ask him, when he reached out and tried to put his arm around me.
As I twisted away from his arm, panic took over my mind, scrambling the words coming out of my mouth into a loudly squawked, “jurkflbabug.”
Jimmy—or not Jimmy—pulled back with a lifted brow, as ifIwas the problem here. “You okay?”
No, I was not okay. Who the hell was Jimmy? Not that I said that to him. I didn’t say anything. I just stood there blinking back at him.
After a few minutes of very awkward silence, he threw his thumb over his shoulder, “Jimmy’s gonna head in.”
After which, he slowly backed away. I’d obviously scared him, which did make me feel better about going in that house.
“Don’t worry,” I waved at him. “Georgia’s not a serial killer.”
Great, now I was talking in the third person. Why did I even say anything? Now Jimmy—or not Jimmy—was going to come back and talk to me some more.
Thankfully, that wasn’t what happened. I’d creeped him out enough that he wanted nothing to do with me. The only response I got was a skeptical side eye as he tiptoed into the house and closed the door. Quiet and slow, like one would do in a horror movie.
Well, this is off to a fantastic start.
I wondered if the other members of Alpha Lambda Theta would be so easily detoured.
The frat name made me shake my head. The acronym was ALT, which denoted a version of something intended as a challenge to the traditional version.
