“Nah, I think we have a good chance. You’re pretty fly for a white guy.”
“Does that make you my American Woman?” Ryan took a shot and missed, the ball bouncing off the table.
I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile. “Head in the game, DeShane.”
“I can promise you sex and candy if we lose.”
“What if we win?”
Before he could answer, a couple of Blake’s fraternity brothers walked into his room—more like stumbling—and leaned against the wall. A wave of beer wafted in with them.
“Smells like teen spirit in here,” Ryan murmured in my ear.
I bit back a laugh and sipped my cup of water.
“Hey, guys,” Blake called from across the table.
“What up, B.” one of the guys slurred. He looked at me, his gaze wandering down my body. I shifted uncomfortably under his perusal. Ryan put his arm around me and pulled me close to his body. Classic territorial fuck off, she’s mine gesture. I could defend myself, but it was nice that Ryan felt the need to be protective.
He said, “Can we help you guys?”
Creeper guy shook his head, still looking at me. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
I’d been to this frat countless times. He’d probably seen me at a party before. “Maybe.”
“No, I know you.” His breath smelled like old beer and pizza. Gross.
“Oh-kay.”
He snapped his fingers. “I know! You’re Julie.”
“Jules.”
“Yeah, that’s it.” His gaze dropped to my chest. “The chick who slept with A-dawg.”
Blake called from across the table, “I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, he told me all about it. You’re the fucking addict who got him kicked out of the frat.”
Ryan cocked his head, staring at the guy like he’d just spoken Mandarin. “You must be high, asshole. My girl isn’t an addict.”
Oh, Ryan. If you only knew. My cheeks heated and I pushed back the tears in my eyes. How could I get out of this one? I couldn’t, not when I was sandwiched between the wall and drunk frat dudes.
“What the fuck do you know, bro?” Drunkie slurred.
Blake set his Ping-Pong ball on the table and said, “That’s enough. She is not an addict and didn’t sleep with Andrew.”
But I did.
For pills.
“I could hear them through the wall. She was all—” He thrust his hips out and the features on his face pinched together. “‘Oh, Andrew, right there—’”
Something inside me snapped. This guy was trying to belittle me, just like my parents. Years of pent-up frustration bubbled to the surface. Nobody could get past that I’d done Adderall. I was past this, why couldn’t everyone else be as well?
“Listen, asshole.” I jabbed him in the chest with my finger until an ache radiated in my bones. “Yes, I slept with Andrew. Yes, I was hooked on Adderall.” I turned to Ryan, who stared at me, clearly confused by this whole situation. “I went to rehab, but I’m clean.” I turned to address the whole room. “Not that it matters to anyone but me.” Then I turned back to Drunkie, going full steam ahead in my rant. “And if you talk about me like I’m a piece of ass one more time, your pretty little face will be regretting it. Capisce?” I gave his cheek a firm swat for emphasis.
Drunkie stared at me, stunned into silence. In fact, the whole room was silent except for music blaring from the dance floor in the other room.
“I asked if you understood,” I shouted. My vision wavered, and I could barely keep my breathing steady as I stared him down.
“Y-yes.”
“Good. Now shoo. You’re not wanted here.”
I turned back to everyone else in the room. “Does anyone else care to comment on my sex life, or can I continue getting my ass kicked at beer pong?”
Ryan put his arm around me. “Let’s get our ass kicked.”
Smart man.
After a few awkward moments of shuffling, everything went back to normal. Huh. Forcing people to see the real me, the one I wanted to be viewed as, worked. Maybe I just needed to be this assertive with my parents and they’d ease up on me a little bit.
We finished a game, Ryan and I coming back and totally trashing Payton and Blake. Payton went to use the restroom and Blake had to run and get more beer from the Super E, leaving Ryan and me in the room.
Ryan bobbed a Ping-Pong ball in his water cup and said, “So, Adderall?”
I nodded. “It’s not something I’m proud of. Basically, I wanted to study longer than I was able to off two pots of coffee.”
His baby blues bore into me. I should have been embarrassed to admit this to him, but the way he looked at me, not like everyone else who gave pitying looks or complete disgust, I was glad it was finally out in the open. “No judgment here. I have my fair share of stuff that I’m not proud of.”