Page 17 of Kingston
His comment catches me off guard. It’s almost as if… he likes what he sees? I’m about to cover up my confusion by huffing out a nasty reply about being able to take care of myself when Cannon puts his hand on my forearm to stop me. He gives a nearly undetectable shake of his head.
“Yeah. No problem. We’ll hang out here.” Archer shoots me a placating wink. “Maybe we’ll get another drink. How’s that sound, Peaches?”
Once Kingston has taken his leave of us, I blow out a hard breath and choose to redirect the conversation, even though I’m a little peeved about Kingston’s high-handedness. “Why do you keep calling mePeaches?”
He winks at me again. “Never mind about that right now. Ask me anything else.”
I frown but go with it. “The whole business outside was crazy.”
“That wasn’t a question, but if you’re asking if it’s always that way, I’d say it only seemed like that because you’re unused to it. Kingston’s word is law on the whole campus, not only in our brotherhood.”
While Archer navigates conversation with me, Cannon watches for trouble. He rubs his hand over his clean-shaven jaw as he scans the room.
It seems weird not to speak to Cannon, so I touch his arm briefly to get his attention. “Archer gives an accurate assessment of Kingston and what everyone thinks of him, huh?”
A smile creeps its way onto his lips as his head slowly bobs. I take a second to let my gaze drift over him. He’s so tall and I happen to already know the basic black T-shirt he’s sporting with cargo shorts is hiding a six pack of abs so chiseled, he must spend hours in the gym. Tearing my eyes from his broad chest, I shift my focus back to Archer.
“Let’s get you a mixed drink or something.” Archer holds up a hand, practically reading my thoughts. “No worries. No more shots. We don’t want you trashed. But a little more relaxed would be good.”
It’s hard to know, though, whether being relaxed around these guys is actually in my best interest or not. All signs so far point to no.
TWELVE
ELLIOT
For the nextthirty minutes or so, I nurse the fruity beverage Archer prepared for me. After the way the first twenty-four hours have unfolded, I express to the guys that I feel I’m behind the other two initiates in getting to know everyone in the brotherhood, so Archer and Cannon point out other brothers who are also in attendance. I spot Dane—who I’d accurately pegged as a sophomore yesterday—with Taggart on the other side of the party and wave, which makes me feel like a complete dork, but hey, at least they won’t think I saw them and actively ignored them.
After I finish my cocktail, I stare down into the bottom of my cup. My lips feel a little numb, and my one eyelid keeps twitching. Without much experience drinking, I have no way of knowing if I’m pleasantly buzzed or heading toward drunk. It was also fairly dumb to drink a beverage I didn’t watch being made. If Archer is the sort of guy who would tamper with my drink in some way, then I don’t stand a chance anyway. I clench my teeth and decide I can’t worry about it now, it’s too late. All I can do is proceed and try to pay better attention. My head is swimming, and it’s making me nervous. I could use a few minutes to myself. “Hey. Um. I need to use the restroom.” I shoot the guys an apologetic smile. “Sorry, tiny bladder.”
Archer smirks but lays his hand at the base of my neck, curling his thumb and fingers around it, collaring me loosely. He gently steers my focus in the direction he wants me and points. “It’s straight down the hallway, third door on the right. We’ll wait here for you. Come right back when you’re done.”
“Got it.” I roll my eyes at the instruction. Rule number two. They always have to know where I am. I draw in a deep breath and weave my way through the sea of bodies dancing in the center of the room. At second glance, it’s more like writhing and grinding than dancing. Moving quickly, even though I feel a tiny bit off-center, I find the bathroom unoccupied, so I slip in to take care of business. This is one of the more opulent bathrooms I’ve ever been in, with its sleek tiled floors and black granite countertops. It makes me laugh a little that it’s in a frat house. Of course, my bathroom in Hawthorne Hall puts this one to shame with its all-white marble and gorgeous copper fixtures.
It would do me well to remember that all the beauty comes with a price… and it’s likely hiding whatever ugliness made Will disappear. Game face back on, I wash up and rejoin the chaos. If possible, the party has gotten even crazier in the five minutes I’ve spent thinking in the bathroom. I go up on tiptoes to look for Archer and Cannon, but don’t immediately see them. But I do see Kingston. And damn, he’s hard to miss—larger than life and surrounded by girls in skimpy outfits. They’re hanging all over him, practically on their knees, begging for his attention.
When another girl elbows her way into the group of clingers, Kingston gives her a slow smile and a wink. After giving her a casual side-hug, he allows his hand to drift down to the small of her back, fingers a fraction of an inch from her ass.Ah. I get it.There truly will be a double standard at play here. They’ll go to parties and fuck around with all the pick-me girls they want, but I’m supposed to sit in a corner with a babysitter—or in this case—two. Only, mine seem to have abandoned me.
I give another cursory glance, scanning for Cannon or Archer. Finally I spot them, talking to a couple of girls… and touching them. Kissing them.
Irritated, I make my way back to the table with all the booze and pour a splash of some sort of fruity rum into a cup, then begin to sort through the mixers when a random guy sidles up next to me and hands me a plastic jug of fruit juice. “A lot of girls like rum with fruit punch.”
I bite my lip. “Was itthatobvious I have no idea what I’m doing?”
He shrugs, cracking a sweet-faced grin. “Maybe. And I’ve never seen you before, so I’m guessing you’re a freshman and haven’t mixed very many drinks in your life. Am I close?”
“You’d be right.” My nose wrinkles for a moment before I focus on concocting my drink.
“I’m Chris. And you’re—”
“Off-limits.” Kingston’s rough voice booms from behind the dude, a bad-tempered expression cloaking his usually handsome features. His hand shoots out, coming down on Chris’s shoulder, and he yanks him backward fast enough to make the poor guy stumble.
I don’t get a chance to say a damn word. Kingston is lightning fast, grabbing my upper arm in a vice-like grip and hauling ass in the direction I’d come from a few minutes ago.
My cheeks burn; there are so many eyes on us. How dare he treat me like this? “Stop, Kingston.” I struggle to get free from his grip, but it only makes him squeeze my arm more tightly.
We come to a halt at the bathroom, and he finds it locked. To my mortification, he pounds on the door with his heavy fist. Only a handful of seconds later, it pops open to reveal a disheveled couple, clearly midway through their make-out session. They appear irritated at first, but when it dawns on them who has interrupted, they hurry out of our way without another word. Kingston is on a rampage, and I guess it must show all over his face. The way people step aside and let him do as he pleases is kind of fascinating. Not fascinating enough for me to lose track of what’s going on, though. I try to pull my arm from his hold again, but he’s not letting go.Ow, dammit.I bet he could snap my bicep like a twig if he really wanted to.
He ushers me into the bathroom, picks me up like I’m a naughty child, and roughly deposits me on the counter in front of him. For a moment, I’m stunned, the breath having whooshed out of me on impact. My chest heaves, and I blink hard, then stare down at a button on his shirt, refusing to look at him. If he thinks this is going to fly, he’s mistaken.
