Page 25 of Rivals
She wondered what kind of person had enough time and money to get a mani-pedi that matched her outfit for atailgate.Then again, Gabriella’s family probably had a nail technician on staff.
“I can’t believe you’re friends with Nigel. You’re so lucky,” breathed another of the girls. “Is it true he asked you to model in his runway show?”
“He did,” Gabriella simpered. “Though of course Daddy would never allow me to do something so public! And I’d have to lose five pounds.”
She tilted her head, waiting, and the other girls rushed to chime in.
“Omigod, Gabriella, you don’t have five pounds to lose!”
“You’re way skinnier than all those runway models!”
Gabriella shrugged, accepting the praise complacently. “Just wait until you see the dress Nigel designed for my birthday party. It’sstunning.And of course you know there’s a surprise guest performer….”
Nina didn’t bother hiding her eye roll as she turned back toward Jeff, a cup of beer in each hand. But apparently luck wasn’t with her today, because Gabriella’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Excuse me? Hi.”
Nina looked up and saw that Gabriella was staring daggers in her direction. “Yes,you,” Gabriella said impatiently. “Are you lost?”
Was this some kind of intimidation technique? “I’m Nina Gonzalez,” Nina said, though Gabriella was clearly well aware who she was. “We met in the cafeteria the other day.”
Upon hearing her name, one of the other girls gasped in recognition. “You’re that friend of Samantha’s, aren’t you? The one Jeff—”
Gabriella elbowed the girl, who let out a muffled squeak and fell silent. Her eyes still boring into Nina’s, Gabriella said, “You’re not a Tri Alpha. You really shouldn’t be here.”
“Jeff invited me. This is a fraternity party too, isn’t it?”
Gabriella shrugged. “Technically, yes. But it’s really more our thing. We set up, decorate the tent, and buy all the food and drinks. The boys just work the grill.”
“Wow. That’s pretty regressive and sexist,” Nina said drily. “Maybe you should make the boys pull their weight. Not that it’s any of my business,” she added, “since, as you so kindly pointed out, I’m not a Tri Alpha.”
“As if you could ever make the cut,” Gabriella muttered under her breath.
Nina forced herself to hold her head high and walk away. It wasn’t worth bickering with someone as petty and small-minded as Gabriella.
She headed back toward Jeff—who, of course, was surrounded by a semicircle of guys all jostling for his attention. But before she could reach him, someone blew a whistle.
“Listen up!” An upperclassman climbed atop a car, bellowing into a megaphone. “Pledge football will begin in five minutes! Each fraternity must send one pledge to compete on their behalf.”
A murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd. More than one guy glanced at Jeff, who clearly sensed what was expected of him, because he shouted, “I’m in!”
The guy with the megaphone seemed uncertain. “You sure?”
Jeff hooted in excitement, letting the tide of the gathered crowd carry him along, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Matt, can you handle photos?”
Nina hadn’t even noticed that Jeff’s Revere Guard was here; he’d been standing to one side of the party, wearing a preppy button-down like all the fraternity brothers. He grabbed a trash bag from beneath a folding table and began circulating through the tailgate, commanding each student to drop their phone into the bag. A few people bristled, but between Matt’s assurances that their phones would be returned and his burly, intimidating muscles, they soon fell silent.
When Matt reached Nina, she handed over her phone without arguing. “Thanks, Nina,” he told her with a knowing wink.
Nina was gratified to see Gabriella’s face turn a mottled shade of red. She clearly didn’t like that the prince’s Revere Guard was on first-name terms with Nina.
Everyone cheered as the contestants from six different fraternities lined up along the edge of the duck pond. The pledges stretched their arms, warming up as if they were about to hold some kind of competition—a race, maybe?—and then, as the cheers intensified, they began stripping down to their boxers.
Now Nina understood why Jeff couldn’t allow photographic evidence.
She didn’tmeanto look at him. Really, she didn’t. But her gaze, along with practically everyone’s, was drawn to him as he pulled his sweater and collared shirt up over his head, then shimmied eagerly out of his pants. He was wearing pale blue boxers—a long pair that looked like swim trunks, at least, instead of tighty-whities.
Afternoon sunlight fell over the lines of his body, his carved shoulders, the hollow at the base of his throat. His torso was taut, a smattering of dark hair trailing over his chest and down his carved abs.
