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She sighed before closing her computer. “Not your problem. You’ll be outta here, so you won’t need to worry.” She leaned forward a bit. “So how’s Gracie liking campus life? Has she joined any clubs? Is she dating anyone?”

“She likes it. Fucking social butterfly,” I said fondly. “But she’s not dating anyone—” I frowned. “Wait, have you heard something?”

Rowan had a gift for knowing everything about fucking everything. She claimed it was because she was a journalism major and collecting “sources” was in her blood. I figured it was because she was friendly as fuck and made even the grumpiest people wanna talk to her.

That was how she and I had become friends years ago, back when she worked at Regent’s.

Now, she laughed out loud. “Oh my god. And you claim you’re not an overprotective brother.”

“I’m not. There’s no over. It’s just protective, full stop.”

“Uh-huh. Well, you can chill because I haven’t heard anything.” Rowan’s teasing smile grew. “I only asked because dating’s something most people try at least once.”

I pursed my lips. “Not me. I prefer keeping things simple.”

I already had enough people who required my time, sweat, concern, and protection.

Rowan tilted her head. “Gracie might feel differently.”

“Sure. And if she does, that’s her business. I just really hope she waits until after graduation.” I glanced out the window toward campus. “Here, she has a higher than average risk of dating some entitled dickwad or… whatever the female version of a dickwad is.”

She laughed again, then stopped abruptly. “Honestly? Fair.” She ducked her head and turned to slide her computer into her bag.

I narrowed my eyes. She was holding back from saying something else.

“What?” I demanded.

Rowan winced. “I was gonna text you later. I, um, need a favor. A date for a thing.”

I bit my tongue against a quick, blurted no.

“I know,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry, but I’m desperate. I know you don’t want anyone to think you’re a nice guy or anything⁠—”

“Is that what you think?”

“—but I have to go to a student-faculty mixer at Merk in a few weeks. One of my journalism professors asked me to come, and I didn’t know how to say no. She’s the one who got me that internship last summer at CNN, so I owe her big.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need a date to go to a reception.”

“Garrett’s gonna be there, probably with his new girlfriend.” She cleared her throat. “Speaking of dickwads.”

That changed things. Her ex was a total asshole. Not only that, but he enjoyed physically intimidating her for kicks.

“Fine,” I said. “Text me details.”

She blew out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

“Of course. If you have to be somewhere with that arrogant fuck, I’m not letting you go alone.”

She laughed ruefully. “I sometimes think I should adopt your no-dating policy. Maybe then I won’t keep ending up with assholes.”

“No shit,” I muttered.

But now that Rowan had brought it up, I couldn’t help thinking about it. What it would be like to actually date someone. Specifically, someone like McNeely. To be able to take them apart, night after night, and watch them lose control.

The idea was compelling as fuck. Making McNeely beg. Making him vulnerable enough to humiliate himself for me. It was intoxicating, even just imagining it.

Not that I’d ever want an actual relationship with an entitled frat boy.