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“Mom . . .” I groan.
“I simply want you to be prepared for any eventuality.”
“I promise I’ll be prepared, if you promise you’ll stop talking about it.”
“Deal. Now, go lay out your wardrobe for tomorrow. And don’t wear anything I wouldn’t wear!” With a wink, she ends the call, humming the chorus of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”
5
A loud clap of thunder shakes Delta Sig house to its foundation, making me flinch as I descend the stairs Tuesday morning. Once again, Nicole either left while I was sleeping, or she never came home last night. If I didn’t have class at ten, I’d crawl back under the covers and hide until the storm passes. No such luck.
The power flickers, and I curse northern Georgia’s notoriously temperamental weather as I grab my coat and an umbrella from the closet. Why did I have to wake up to a freaking monsoon, today of all days? A simple winter snowstorm would’ve at least earned me a few canceled classes.
I toss my phone into my bag and zip it shut. There’s no way I’m not getting wet. No way my wool peacoat is any match for this rain. And the thirty or so minutes spent drying and styling my hair was all for nothing. On the count of three, I pull open the front door, unfurl my umbrella, and exit the safety of the building, squealing the whole time.
By the time I reach the dining hall, every inch of me is soaked. I catch my reflection in the glass doors as I shrug out of my coat. My painstakingly applied makeup drips down my face and neck in a kaleidoscope of colors, and my meticulously curled hair is plastered to my head like a wet mop.
Great. I’m the girl from The Ring.
“Don’t tell me you’ve finally embraced the dark side.” A rough voice startles me.
I whip my head around and stare into Jordan Keller’s black-rimmed eyes. “Anarchy in the U.K.” plays inside my head as he towers over me, his dark gaze lingering on my now-extra-clingy white T-shirt before making the slow circuit to my face.
Despite promising myself I wouldn’t let him intimidate me, his intense scrutiny freaks me out, leaving me speechless.
He wordlessly arches a pierced eyebrow and shifts his weight, drawing my attention to the black-and-red Dead Kennedys tee stretched across his defined chest. Whether he wore it to intimidate me, or it was an unfortunate coincidence, it does the trick. I shudder, and he chuckles under his breath.
Our standoff lasts for what seems like hours but can’t be more than half a minute as a steady stream of cold rain runs from the ends of my hair, down my back and neck, seeping into my clothes. I wait for him to say something. Anything. Instead, he sucks one of those shiny lip rings into his mouth, twisting and tugging the plump flesh of his bottom lip along with it.
I can’t for the life of me tear my gaze away. The song in my head switches to “Submission,” and I swallow the pitiful sound crawling up my throat.
“Better be careful, Kennedy.” He bites off my name, and his bitter tone sends a cold ripple through me. “You keep staring at me like that, and people might think you’ve developed a taste for freaks.” He grinds out the word, spitting it at me with all the venom of an angry cobra.
All I can do is stand there, gaping at him like a dying fish while he studies me, as if I’m a biology experiment gone horribly wrong. I struggle for a clever reply, but the words won’t come.
“I-I never said you were a freak.” My voice trembles. I don’t believe he’d actually hurt me, but it’s painfully obvious I’ve somehow pissed the guy off.
“Not to my face, maybe.”
His icy glare chills me to my rain-soaked panties before he turns and stalks off, taking his delicious scent with him.
“What the hell was that all about?” Nicole steps up beside me.
“No idea,” I mutter, eyes locked on Jordan’s retreating form. Once he disappears around the corner, I turn to Nicole.
Her thumbs fly across her touchscreen as she taps out a message. “Don’t worry about him. The guy’s a freak.”
Nicole’s words hit too close for comfort, and I cringe. In the back of my mind, I know there’s a connection, but I can’t quite make the link.
She finally raises her eyes from the screen and notices my soggy appearance. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Have you looked outside?”
A crack of thunder shakes the building as if someone up there felt the need to punctuate my point.
“I stayed at Jeremy’s last night.” She nods toward the skywalk that connects the Bracknell Hall dorm to the dining hall.
“How nice for you.” I ring the water from my hair. “I don’t suppose you have a towel in your bag.”
