Premature Evacuation (Underground Sorority #1) (31 page)

He’s supposed to be her enemy. Not her enemy with benefits.

There’s only one thing Bianca Cruz wants: to get her sorority house back. Well, that and to punch Harrison Wagner in his unmentionables. He’s the sexy jerk who orchestrated her sorority's demise and stole their abandoned house for his frat. To get revenge, Bianca makes it her mission to unearth the secret Harrison desperately wants to keep hidden. But as she grows closer to him in order to crack his carefully manicured facade, their witty banter and chemistry crackles to a crescendo. Which was definitely NOT in the plan.

Just as Bianca gives in to her escalating feelings, she discovers the scandalous secret Harrison has been hiding. Exposing it would get Harrison’s frat expelled and hers reinstated, but how can she turn him in when she’s falling for him?

BIANCA

I
T FELT GREAT LEADING a charge. The brigade of girls behind me swung their hips in unison to the clicking of our stilettos as we strutted all the way across campus, past the library that seemed to have been lifted right out of a gothic horror movie, over the grassy quad, until we stopped in front of the lone fraternity that rested on sorority row. Omega Upsilon Tau. Out House.

My old house.

Last year, I lived on the second floor of the three story mansion with the rest of my sorority, Rho Sigma. But Rho Sigma no longer existed. At least as far as the Throckmorton University Greek Organization was concerned.

My throat tightened at the nostalgia clogging my airwaves. The dark Greek letters for
rho
and
sigma
that used to hang proudly on the yellow siding now only existed in our minds. Divots from lounge chairs marred the once pristine grass, and a volleyball net had been strung across the spot the girls used to lay out towels for the best exposure to the sun. When sun actually made an appearance in gray, snowy Upstate New York, that is.

My eyes flew to the window on the second floor. Instead of the pretty teal satin curtains Erin and I had painstakingly hung, a picture of a topless model was propped to the window, facing the street. Curtains concealed, but this photo exposed.

The girls behind me stopped short, the chatter and excitement that had been loud enough to drown out the chirp of crickets and the pounding bass from the enemy house in front of us made way for groans.

“We’re having our first mixer with
them
?” someone yelled.

I’d kept the identity of the frat a surprise, mostly because I needed the sisters to actually show up. And if they knew we were partying with the house that destroyed us, they wouldn’t.

I spun around and placed two palms on my fitted leopard print dress. More like a tube, really. I’d purchased it in the junior’s section and still somehow managed to squeeze my boobs inside. Well, most of them. “And who would you have liked to party with instead?” I raised my brow.

Some of the seniors in the very front backed up a step at whatever fierceness they spotted on my face. I fought back the urge to smile and lifted my chin higher. When Rho Sigma was real, these girls used to stomp all over me. But now, as President of the illegal version of Rho Sig, I held the power.

“Beta Chi,” someone suggested. Toward the back, Corey Taft lifted one corner of his mouth in a sneer and shook his head. He used to be part of Beta Chi Lambda. But now he was one of us. As an underground sorority, we didn’t have to discriminate by gender. His girlfriend Mackenzie Shaffer mocked throw up gestures in solidarity. I shared the same sentiment. I was done looking for love at that house. Not that I was looking for love at Out House.

“Or Sammy,” another voice said, referring to Sigma Alpha Mu.

“Well, Beta Chi and Sammy wanted nothing to do with us.” I rolled my eyes at those good for nothing boys. “Need I remind you we’re Underground now? We need to establish ourselves on campus, off the record of course, before most frats are willing to take a risk on us. Out House was willing, and so here we are.” I stomped up the steps, making sure to put an extra little swing in my hips. “You don’t like it, you’re free to leave.” I jammed my finger against the doorbell.

“That was harsh.” My best friend Erin Behr sidled up next to me, pushing her brown bob out of her face. I wasn’t sure how, but the girl never had a hint of smeared makeup and here I was pretty sure the gold sparkles cresting my lids had smudged down to my cheeks.

I shrugged. “They need to stop being so picky. We have to take what we can get.”

She giggled in that high pitched way of hers. “You could have told them the real reason why you agreed to this party.”

Heart ramping up in speed, my eyes swept over every face nearby, searching for narrowed eyes, furrowed brows, any damn thing that would indicate they overheard the extremely dumb thing my very naïve best friend had just said. Because as President, it was my job to protect my charges. And if they found out I planned to use this party not as a time for fun but for reconnaissance, they’d get their hopes up. I refused to make them a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.

The girls behind me seemed as clueless as ever, so I leaned into Erin. “Shh. The whole point of this is to be subtle. Remember,” I said since she clearly needed a reminder, “don’t snap a photo of the alcohol, pretend you’re snapping a selfie but aim the lens at the underage drinkers.”

She slapped her forehead with the side of her palm as if to say
aye aye, captain
. I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I preferred the poised TV Host personality she projected on campus to the goofy one she let me see in private.

The door swung open and the yeasty scent of beer hit me in the gut. It seemed so out of place, so absolutely wrong. Memories flooded my mind of all the times I stomped up these steps after class, my cheeks buried in my scarf, and a blast of homey potpourri lured me inside.

“Ladies, welcome.” Harrison Wagner stepped onto the landing, forcing me to back up and causing the girl behind me to teeter on the edge until she tripped onto the step below, a domino effect. His annoying smirk jumped to his face as he scanned the rows of girls decked out in the sluttiest animal print outfits they could find. Only a single strip of zebra-print fabric hung from Harrison’s bicep, which he made sure to show off with a fitted black t-shirt. Last year I remembered him being bean pole lanky but he must have been concealing his muscles inside his smarmy facade. And his trendy fitted peacoat. “Well, you’re all looking ripe for a cat fight.”

I groaned. “Cheesy jokes are not welcome in
Yours’
presence.”

Yours
was the nickname we’d coined for Underground Rho Sigma, a.k.a. URS, because the full name was too much of a mouthful. And also a liability.

Harrison’s smirk wavered as he studied me. “Oh, but isn’t your house the biggest joke of all?”

I slapped him in the face a full second before the scoff left my lips. My hand striking the rough stubble on his cheek never felt so good, until sucked in breaths and gasps joined the pounding bass from inside.

Harrison’s jaw clenched as he reached his long fingers to his cheek and rubbed. “I’ll let that one slide only because I really want you girls to see the fun we have planned for you.” He flourished his hand toward the entrance. “After you, Bianca.”

I crossed my arms and waited for him to step inside first. There was only one thing I learned from last year’s poor choice of elective, World History, and it was this: never turn your back on an enemy. I delivered my own smirk at Harrison’s shoulder blades as he faced away from me and entered.

I stabbed a metaphorical knife into his back.

The darkness that engulfed me made my breath catch. Even at night, little lights used to line the path from the door to the kitchen to help the sisters find their way in the not-so-dark. But Out House had plummeted the glow down to haunted house levels. A cheesy disco ball revolved from the ceiling, throwing sparkles on the floor. Plastic trees swayed as brothers knocked into them. Stuffed monkeys hung from the twisty banister we used to stand on during rush to welcome to prospective members.

“This way.” Harrison ushered us to the right where the ornate chapter room waited. Two big burly bouncers and a desk blocked the entrance.

A woman with blond hair pulled back into a complicated knot raised a brow at me from behind the desk. “ID?”

I swiveled my head toward Harrison, squinting in confusion.

“I believe you already know Mrs. Comstock?” Harrison said. “Head of the Greek Organization?”

The words stabbed a pin straight through my gut. “But--?”
Aren’t parties illegal?

“ID,” Mrs. Comstock said again, this time with an annoyed tone. The girls behind me shuffled their feet.

With shaking hands, I lifted the fake one that always got me into Quigley’s and slid it over to her. My stomach twisted as she pursed her lips at the very unrealistic hologram. To avoid eye contact, I craned my neck behind her head where newly stained hardwood floors replaced the gaudy floral rugs I used to hate but now fiercely missed. Brown leather sofas sat in the spots that once contained girly polka dot ones. Color bottles of liquor lined an ornate book case that had been filled with discarded textbooks during Rho Sig’s reign.

“Sorry, no,” Mrs. Comstock passed the ID back to me. “Next?” Her eyes locked on the Corey behind me. He was actually twenty-one.

My heart thrashed in my chest as I stumbled backward. What the hell just happened?

A warm breath coated the skin on my neck. “Welcome to the reject party,” Harrison cooed. “If you’ll follow me.”

I planted my feet to my spot and watched as Mrs. Comstock slapped a bright green wrist band onto Corey’s wrist and the security guard stepped aside to let him pass. Pulsing lights and even louder music welcomed him with open arms. But when Mackenzie failed the hardest test of college so far, Corey shook his head. Erin and I, plus the asshole next to me, stood there, stunned. A few of the seniors passed inspection easily and marched right up to the bartender in the back of the chapter room. He poured them drinks that reached the top of the cup. Balancing and sipping simultaneously, Olivia Marquez waltzed to the security guard at the entrance. “Excuse me,” she said, nodding toward the foyer where more girls were being either rejected or admitted.

“Drink stays here,” the bouncer said.

Olivia sighed, shook her head toward her rejected friend, then slipped back into the chapter room. Several Out House boys surrounded her.

When I spun around again, Harrison greeted me with that horrible smirk of his. I crossed my arms. “So, what, only half of us get to party?”

“Of course not. We’ve got something special planned for the rest of you.” He strutted toward the dining room. Those of us burdened by our birthdays followed.

Instead of the floral tablecloths we used to eat on, board games covered the long tables that filled the dining room. Soda bottles littered the spaces between games.

Board games
. At a college party.

If that didn’t deserve a punch in Harrison’s face, nothing did.

He plopped into one of the wooden chairs. “Monopoly?”

“Don’t you own enough houses already?” I let out a growl of frustration that earned a chuckle from him. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go! I was supposed to catch Out House doing a whole bunch of illegal shit and take them down without breaking a nail.

I hovered over him and forced him to look up to me. The way all boys were supposed to look at me. “Why is the Greek Org here when parties are illegal?”

Harrison closed his eye for a moment as if he was savoring my question. “They aren’t illegal if you register them properly and follow federal laws about serving alcohol.” He flicked his fingers between the boring part of the party and the opposite room where cheers and shouts rang out from whatever fun those lucky people were having.

I spun around, slapping him in the face with my long dark hair, and stomped toward Mackenzie and Corey who hadn’t even been back at school for three days and already were locking lips. “Hold me back. Before I do something stupid.” I spread my legs in a fighting stance and raised my fists.

Mackenzie pushed her auburn hair behind her ear and placed a gentle palm on my shoulder. “He’s not worth it. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”

Corey grunted, sliding his fingers along the dark stubble on his jaw. “He only ever invites people places when he wants to show off.”

My shoulders straightened at Corey’s words. This was
my
chance to show off. The party on the first floor might be completely sanctioned, but everyone had skeletons. And they usually hid those in closets. “Cover for me.”

I did a quick recon sweep. Another bouncer guarded the back entrance, blocking me from the back staircase, but Harrison neglected to remember one thing about me: I used to live here.

Mackenzie’s hand fell from my shoulder as I strutted into the kitchen. Between the industrial stove and the stainless steel refrigerator rested a door that led to a small basement room used for additional food storage. I twisted the knob and descended down the creaky stairs. Darkness crept around me, but wooden walls guided my way as I bypassed two additional freezers and metal shelves lined with large tubs of generic brands. Mayonnaise instead of Hellman’s. Chemicals instead of fresh meat. I turned a corner and crept up the back staircase. The first floor landing was enclosed by a locked door, which meant the bouncer wouldn’t see me as I kept going right on upstairs.