Stupid Boy Read online

  I didn’t move. Didn’t look at Brax. Didn’t say a word. I just laid there, and Brax set the covers in place. Over my body. I knew Brax saw. Saw my mutilated back. Saw the word there, raised and puckered and purple-red.

  “Hey, I’m sorry,” Brax said. His voice was even. Quiet. And he probably really meant it. “I won’t tell.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said into my pillow.

  “Fuck yeah, it does,” Brax said. “I hope the asshole paid for it.”

  I didn’t say a word. Just kept quiet.

  “We’re goin’ to a game tomorrow,” Brax said, then I felt a shift in the air as he swung up into the bunk above me. He was quiet for a while, and I thought he was asleep. Until he spoke again.

  “The game’s at two. We’re playin’ Kansas City. And we’re goin’ together,” Brax said. “I know a guy at the park. He’s been lettin’ me in since I was seven. We can get a hot dog, might even catch a foul ball. Okay?”

  I sighed into my pillow. “Okay.” Anything to shut him up. It worked.

  Then I closed my eyes. I knew I’d dream. I always dreamed. Only they weren’t dreams, they were nightmares. Frightmares. Night terrors, the doctor had said. And Brax was going to hear them.

  Soon, he’d know everything.

  Winston University

  Texas, present day

  Early November

  “Ladies, as you all know, the Kappas start every fall semester off with one of their degrading, humiliating fraternity dares. Last fall…” I sighed and stared at the aged wooden podium I stood behind, used by many Delta presidents before me. I looked up, then scanned the familiar faces of my sisters. The flames from several lit candles swayed as the air conditioning kicked on and swooshed a fake breeze through the common room. I gripped the podium with my palms. “What they did to Olivia Beaumont last year was unforgiveable. And now they’ve done it again. They shouldn’t just get away with it.”

  “Poor Macie Waters,” Maggie Gibson said. “How she fell for that jackass Josh Collins is beyond me. Why would she ever think he’d want to seriously be with her?”

  “Macie is a smart girl. She’ll get over him,” I answered. “Whether she’ll get over being humiliated in front of a hundred people at their ridiculous Halloween bash anytime soon is yet to be seen. It was a hard life’s lesson learned for her.” It’d been a Stephen King’s Carrie sort of moment—minus the pig blood. Josh had coaxed Macie into dressing up as a slutty nurse and drinking way too much—then announced at the bash it’d all been a dare. Idiot.

  “But Olivia beat them,” Jane Morris said. “She and Brax won.”

  A murmur ran through the Deltas at the mention of Olivia and Brax. With good reason, too. They had won. Olivia’s strength and courage had out-witted those lamebrain Kappas. And Brax? Well, he’d surprised everyone—including me. He’d proven to not only be one of the brightest guys I’d ever met, but was totally in love with Olivia. So much that he’d quit the Kappas. Since last fall’s dare, Olivia had made the Dean’s list. Last season Brax had accumulated more pitching records than any Silverback before him. And their romance was the talk of Winston. Like a living, breathing thing, it simply…existed. Everyone knew of Brax and Gracie—his endearing nickname for her. More than one time I’d wondered, what would that be like? To have someone love me that much? I couldn’t even fathom it. The idea felt foreign. Alien. And in the end, it left me feeling hollow inside.

  “Oh my God, the way he looks at her,” Jane said, her voice whispery. “Like he’ll suffocate, shrivel up and die if he can’t touch her.”

  “That’s true,” I continued. I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Olivia is extraordinary. But still. Despite their survival, a new dare victim was chosen this year. Humiliated. All for some drunken good laugh. And I—we—can’t let them get away with it. It’s degrading. We’re sophisticated, intelligent women. Not to be used as dogs.”

  Heads nodded and muttered their agreement.

  “I thought the dares were banned,” Maggie said. “Like, not allowed. At all.”

  The smile I gave stretched thin and tight against my teeth. “They are, as far as sexual harassment and damage to property goes,” I answered. “Only, that doesn’t really mean anything to the Kappas.” Again, I peered out over my sisters. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Oh,” a familiar voice said. “I fancy that impish gleam in your eye, Ms. Belle.”

  My gaze found Murphy Polk, who was a transplant from York, England. She was as close a friend as I had. Her chestnut hair had streaks of highlight and was cut in a fashionable wavy abstract lob that brushed her collarbones, only presently she had two large braids pulled along each side and gathered in the back. She was smiling the type of smile that had meant trouble before. Modernly dressed yet with an easy Bohemian flare, Murphy was that girl who fit in with every single crowd. Everyone liked her. That smile? Like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. She’d pushed me into sticky spots before, knowing I was a total rule-follower. A wicked spark now flashed in her eyes as she waited for my answer.

  Murphy’s grin grew. “Well, come on, then, love. Please, share.” Her brows knitted into a mock frown. “And withhold not one manky detail.”

  I couldn’t contain the grin on my own face at Murphy’s heavy north York accent and favorite slang. Manky—meaning dirty or filthy. It reminded me of the first day we’d met, in our freshman year at Winston. Murphy had blown into our dorm room as though she’d known me forever. We hadn’t instantly connected, though. Murphy…she was persistent. I couldn’t help liking her. And the one thing I really loved about Murphy? She never asked questions. She simply…accepted. Unless, of course, it pertained to up-to-no-good fraternity pranks. “I think we should give the Kappas a taste of their own putrid medicine. That’s what. And I have an idea how.”

  Several gasps filled the room, and the Deltas exchanged looks. Only Murphy kept her wide brown-eyed gaze on me. Her smile turned positively shady. “Whoa. Are you saying…you want to rule-break, Harper Belle?”

  “Not exactly.” I lifted my chin. “We are strong, motivated, goal-oriented women. There isn’t a one of us who have less than a three point nine GPA. We’re not pawns in their stupid frat dares. We tirelessly sponsor events to raise money for our house. For the shelter. And for our various clubs. The Kappas…they’re a drunken joke. I’m tired of it and I for one want them to learn a lesson.”

  “Well, let’s hear it,” Murphy urged. Others joined in.

  I met the expectant gazes of my sisters. “Bad. Boy. Makeover.”

  The sisters stared, silently and questioning at first. Then they all started talking at once, and the room sounded like a hive of bees. Murphy’s gaze was still on mine, and the Cheshire Cat smile slowly stretched across her face. “Brilliant,” she replied.

  “So, what are the rules?” Maggie asked.

  I thought about it. Straightened. Held their gazes. “Three of us will choose a subject. The absolute baddest, most ridiculously awful guy you can find. Completely reform them. Clean up their act. Teach them manners. Encourage participation in our winter events. Make them fall for you. Get them to divulge their deepest, darkest secrets.” I smiled, held my head high. “Last but not least, they’ll willingly attend our holiday Dash-n-Date. In a suit.”

  “Do they have to specifically be a Kappa? You realize how difficult that would be,” Megan Conners said. “They’re all jocks. Most already have girlfriends.”

  I thought about that. “Definitely an obstacle. If you find an available Kappa, go for it. Otherwise, target a Kappa affiliate.” There were plenty of those around campus. Guys who weren’t in the fraternity but who hung out with them.

  Several rounds of oh’s filled the room, and Murphy spoke up. “Definitely, Harper, you’ve outdone yourself this time.” She grinned. “You should of course be one of the three.”

  I nodded. “Absolutely, I second that.” I glanced around. “Who’ll join me?”

  Murphy’s hand shot up. No one else’
s did. “Thanks, Murphy. Anyone else?” I gave a stern eye to the sisters. “We need one more.”

  I stared into the faces of the Deltas. We were known more for our brains, upbringing, and GPA rather than our beer pong prowess or how we might look in a wet T-shirt. We held ourselves on a higher level than most and took pride in everything we represented. How our sorority house had ended up directly across the street from the Kappas—total opposites—would always be a mystery to me.

  Finally, a hand rose, and I nodded. “Thank you, Leslie.” I gripped the podium once more, and the cool wood beneath my palms almost soothed my nerves. I didn’t like games. Didn’t care for pranks. Definitely didn’t agree with dares, which is why I didn’t dare suggest public humiliation. In my way of thinking, to emerge the victor, we must truly reform the chosen male. What better way to put the Kappas in their places?

  The Kappas just needed to learn they couldn’t treat women like trash. Plain and simple.

  “We’ve got six weeks before the Dash-n-Date,” I announced. “So ladies, choose your subjects and get to work.”

  As the sisters disassembled, their heads together discussing our latest quest, Murphy sauntered up to me. Her eyes narrowed. One brow shot up.

  “You have someone in mind already?” she accused. “Don’t you?”

  I looked at her, surprised. “No I do not.” I eyed her curiously. “What about you?”

  Her smile revealed a devious plan. “A beastly specimen.” She winked. “The very moment you decide, you must tell me first.”

  “All right,” I agreed. “And you do the same.”

  I laid awake that night, staring up at the coarse pattern of what looked like popcorn on my ceiling. My mind scoured through the unimpressive number of guys I personally knew. None of them seemed appropriate. I thought of the Kappas. All of them seemed appropriate. But, as it had been pointed out at the chapter meeting, most had girlfriends and, despite my determination to make the Kappas pay for their stupid Dare against Macie and Olivia, I just wasn’t going to interfere with a relationship—no matter how insignificant it might be. Sighing, I turned onto my side, but my thoughts kept me wide awake. I liked it when a task had me preoccupied. It meant the past would leave me alone. At least for a little while.

  I’d search tomorrow between classes. Winston was bound to have a pool of what Murphy called beastly gents. I thought about Brax. Even now, he had the look. Only I knew him pretty well and it was simply Brax’s persona. It was who he was. He’d softened a bit, though, since Olivia. Didn’t fight quite as often as he used to. But he definitely still had the look. I thought about it.

  The bad boy appearance was incredibly difficult to overlook. They inadvertently wore it like a suit of armor. Not just the clothes they wore, because let’s face it. Bad boys could wear raggedy jeans with holes in the knees or a thousand dollar Armani suit. No. It was the way they carried themselves. Confident. Fearless. Challenging. Obnoxious. A smile tugged at my mouth. Exactly like Brax Jenkins, I supposed. But there weren’t any more Brax Jenkins-types wandering around Winston. He was definitely one of a kind. I sighed. This task would be a little more difficult than I’d thought. But I’d search. I’d look for those obvious qualities. And I’d reform.

  My eyes fluttered, drifted, and with the plan to search for just the perfect specimen tomorrow, I fell asleep.

  * * *

  In between classes the next day my search began. My heels snapped against the sidewalk as I hurried across campus. Determination made my jaw set; my eyes were peeled, scanning the quad, the walkways—everywhere. I would find my Dare today, no matter what. As I searched, a few caught my eye. Athletes mostly, but it seemed they always had a girl with them. Of course, though, that was a bad boy trait after all. Womanizer. I’d have to be persistent. A little aggressive, maybe. I headed to my last class.

  During lecture, my mind focused on one thing. Not Rembrandt, the topic of the day. Instead? Who needed reforming? My eyes moved over the forty or so people gathered in the hall. First, not one Kappa present. And on closer inspection, not one noticeable bad boy type. They all seemed ordinary. Docile. Frustrated, I turned my attention to the notes on the overhead.

  After class I set out, more determined than ever. On a mission, I sat on one of the concrete benches and scanned the sea of students milling about the quad. The late afternoon sun waned, and I glanced directly into it. Squinted. Then noticed how the light shimmered against the plum and red and ginger colored leaves of the pear trees. It’d be pretty if fall didn’t lead into the holidays—

  “Can you tell me how to get to the observatory?”

  The soft-spoken, northern accented voice made me turn my head. A guy; tall, broad-shouldered but not bulky, with dark messy hair and soft brown eyes stared down at me. His eyes were hard to look away from. Smoky. Like expresso beans. And long, dark lashes. I’d never seen him before. And I was pretty sure I’d have remembered.

  His mouth lifted in the corner into a crooked smile. Waiting. Those dark eyes watching me closely.

  “Oh,” I said, and stood. Smoothing my tailored blazer, I turned and pointed. “Take that pathway there. It will lead you to the Science complex,” I said, and looked at him. “Look for the big dome.”

  He smiled fully now, with his eyes and his mouth, and it threw me off guard. “I will. Thanks.”

  “No problem,” I answered, and watched him saunter away. He glanced over his shoulder and gave me a crooked grin, then continued to amble toward the direction I pointed him in. And I continued to stare. Leather jacket. Worn jeans. Biker boots. He didn’t exactly look like an astronomy buff. But it was Wednesday, and the observatory was open to the public. I watched him for a few more moments, until a wave of students getting out of class swallowed him up.

  I settled back down and examined the crowd for a while longer. Not only did I not find my Dare project, but I soon realized I kept inadvertently searching for the stranger with the smoky eyes and crooked smile. I didn’t see him again, and I was surprised to find I was disappointed in that. The sun began to drop, and the air grew chilly. Fewer and fewer people walked about, the end of the day drawing them back to their dorms, or to the library, or the café, or the pubs. I watched the sky turn several shades of purple and lavender before finally getting up. Tonight was the one night of the week the Deltas had dinner together. We always met at Juno’s on campus, so I hurried across the quad so I wouldn’t be late. The girls were all there, waiting on me when I walked in.

  Juno’s was a pretty calm eatery in comparison to the rowdy sports pubs on campus. A shade of Bohemian, a shade of sophistication, the walls were painted in warm colors and decorated with pieces of local campus artwork and antique musical instruments. There was a sitting lounge with a giant sofa, four overstuffed chairs, and a small library of art and music books. I found our usual set of tables, in the corner and beneath a large canvas of a multi-colored knit scarf wrapped around the neck of a marble sculpture of an angel, and headed over. Draping my bag over the back of my chair, I sat next to Murphy. She pushed a small paper menu in front of me. Dinner at Juno’s was just that. Dinner. No official business. No meeting topics. Just the sisters gathering, spending quality time with one another. Most times I’d wanted to skip out. Eating at Juno’s once a week, despite having a student discount, added up. But being president of the Deltas, I didn’t dare.

  Murphy leaned toward my ear. “So did you discover a scrummy specimen today?”

  I sighed and stared at the menu. Soon the words blurred, and the attractive stranger who’d asked for directions to the observatory popped into my head. “No,” I answered quickly. “You?”

  She stared hard at me for a moment. “Codswallop. I can see it in your eyes, Harper Belle. Someone caught your fancy, aye?”

  I gave her a stiff grin. “Honestly. I haven’t. Searched for a solid hour after class, but nothing.” I sighed, wondering how Murphy’s perception was so sharp. “Maybe I’m being too choosey.”

  “Could be,” Mu
rphy answered, then gave my shoulder a gentle shove with hers. “Don’t fret, love. You’ll find one.” She grinned. “I’ve my keen eye on two, actually.”

  My eyes widened. “Seriously? Who?”

  Murphy grinned. “Let’s just say when I choose one, I’ll give you the leftover.”

  I gave her a sideways glare. “Well, thanks.”

  Her grin was crooked and full of mischief. “What are you ordering? And if you say a bowl of soup I’m going to clobber you.”

  I shrugged. “I like soup.” Plus, it was the cheapest thing on the menu. It filled me up, though.

  Murphy looked at me, with that all-knowing, thoughtful gaze she sometimes had. At times I felt she knew my secrets. Knew everything about me, as if she’d hired a private detective and somehow had found out about my past. Maybe she had. If she did, she’d never once mentioned it. Her eyes softened, and she smiled. “I’ll have soup, too.”

  I gave Murphy a hesitant smile, and she gave me one back. Unspoken acceptance. She’d never know how much I appreciated her silence.

  * * *

  The next day I ran into Olivia on my way to the library. She was stopped and facing away from me.

  “Hey, Olivia,” I said.

  Olivia Beaumont turned to me. She was eating peanut butter on a spoon. Dressed in a long sleeved snap-down shirt, skinny jeans and a pair of navy All-Stars, she wore her long hair in a messy braid that hung over her shoulder. And not one smidge of make-up. I didn’t know anyone else who could pull off the look like Olivia. One wouldn’t think just by looking at her that she was so exceptionally brilliant. She wore her Texas cowgirl shameless and with pride. I confessed, if only to myself, that it sparked a bit of envy in me. Never had I been allowed to be so…free with myself. Quickly, Olivia dabbed at her mouth. “Hey, Harper. How’s it going?”

  “Fine, thank you,” I answered. I smoothed the front of my tailored suit and tucked my hair behind my ear. When Olivia glanced over her shoulder, my gaze followed. Then they widened. Brax stood, hands on hips, head down. Before him, another guy—the very same one I’d encountered yesterday. Same dark, messy hair, jeans. Boots. Leather jacket. Brax looked up and started talking with his hands. His body language seemed…angry. The attractive guy stood calm, hands shoved in his pockets.