Page 34 of Bite Me

“Did your family leave you here?”

“No. I told them to leave without me. I’m fine here.” She giggles.

“Yeah? While you shake your ass for the forums?”

“She can make her own decisions. Besides, you’re just in time. It’s initiation night,” Luther says.

“I thought I vetoed that.”

“You lost the vote. Two to one. Verity wasn’t going to kill the one fun tradition the culinary club has.”

It’s not fun. It’s cruel, boring nonsense. I stopped coming to initiations since Luther became the vice president. It completely slipped my mind that he’d want to initiate Emma.

Luther turns his attention back to her, tugging at her leg to rest his head on her thigh. “Want another drink?”

She nods, and he watches her as she grinds her hips and flips her hair. The feeling in the air shifts. He wants her, and that awakens a primal urge I’m not ready for.

I’m not a fighter, but I contemplate taking him to the ground.

Luther disappears for her drink, and she stumbles.

“Come on. Time to go.” With one arm, I haul her over my shoulder and off the table.

“Wait, no. What about the initiation?”

“You were about to fall off the table before you made it there.” Plus, she needs water if she’s going to make it through.

When we reach the kitchen, I dump her onto the floor, and she falls headfirst into my chest, leaving a smear of glitter on my shirt collar.

Every house has some sort of kitchen for general snacks and cooking. Tonight, Solexxa’s is being used to prepare the initiation dinner. Both Verity and Luther are from Solexxa House, so it comes as no surprise that they’ve hired chefs for the meal. I make sure we’re tucked in the corner under warm, dim lighting as I hand her a bottle of sparkling water.

“You’re worried about me.” She smiles.

“No.”

Her smile vanishes as quickly as it came. “Then why would I want to stay somewhere I’m not wanted?”

I stop her retreat with my arm on the doorframe. “Come on, there’s no way that hurts your feelings.”

“It might . . .” Her golden eyes sparkle in the overhead lights. “Because why do you still hate me?”

“The better question is: why do you want to talk to me when I’ve never been anything but cruel to you?”

“Not the other day.”

“I thought we had a silent agreement that we were never going to bring that up again.”

She shrugs, her attention drifting to a couple making out in the corner.

“Answer my question,” I demand. “Why do you care what I think?”

“I guess that I just . . . wonder what version of me I need to be to get you to like me. It kind of . . . bothers me that you don’t. Not that it makes me sad or anything, more like, it’s just super annoying that I can’t figure it out.”

That’s a real answer. The alcohol definitely has her guard down.

“Emma.” When I say her name, her eyes widen. “Why are you here?”

“Don’t I look like the partying type?”