Page 9 of Wicked Surrender

But I don’t want it to last until he’s out of here.That was how fed up I wasnow.

“Besides,” she reasoned, “it’s better to be taken than single and open for prey.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Like that girl at my dorm. Belle.” She winced. “She was drugged and got so wasted at one of the frat house parties that she had to be hospitalized.” Her eyes opened wider with emphasis that this should shock me. “She said she wished she’d gone to the party with her gay BFF, who could act like a boyfriend, just to be safe.”

While I felt bad for that girl, she knew better. “No one goes to a frat party and expects to leave the same.”

She smirked. “Oh, likeyoucan say that from experience, huh?”

I frowned. “No. You know I can’t.” I’d never gone to any parties on campus, both because my parents would dislike that and because it was so out of my comfort zone that I didn’t know how to just go and show up without having an invite or knowing any of the partying, cooler students.

“First of all, it’s not likeIwould ever have to worry about being single and being prey.” I pointed at myself. “I don’t go to those parties. I have no time to party at all.”

She made awhateverface. “I’m just saying…”

I refused to agree with her logic. Sure, a single woman would be prey. That was a fact of life. But it wasn’t a good enough reason for me to just stay with Ethan. “I’m too bored with Ethan to put any effort into him.”

She gave me a pensive look. “What would you do if you didn’t have to spend time on him?”

I smiled. “Research a little more about these cancer trials and daydream about saving the world?”

“You’re such a dork,” she teased playfully.

“Yes. Iamsuch an academic and hopeless dork,” I replied. “So much so that your warning about being single and being prey falls flat.” Straightening my already neat piles of papers and books, I shot her a dubious look. “Because that means I would never be at one of the frat parties.”

Just thinking about the frat president who hosted the wild parties like the one Belle had been hospitalized from made me snort with another laugh. He was a notorious bad boy who loved to ruin virgins and good girls. No one I would ever want to spend time with.

“And I would never willingly associate with someone like Jason Reeves, either,” I quipped, amused at the improbable scenario I’d never have to worry about.

4

JASON

Iwoke up Tuesday morning still hungover from the weekend.

I’m getting too old for this shit.

As I lay in bed, my arm draped over my eyes so I wouldn’t have to tolerate the brightness of whatever sunlight dared to encroach past the tiny slit between my curtains, I regretted every second of my usual mantra.

Fuck this.

That was the sole thought I circled back to all weekend.

I was only twenty-fucking-three. I wasn’t old. But after five years of prolonging my “education” here on campus, after five years of maintaining my legendary status as the ultimate source of fun and mayhem, I had to admit that I was abusing myself. The wear and tear of partying so hard—without breaks or even decent sleep—was getting to me.

As I lay there and dreaded getting up, though, it wasn’t the physical turmoil of too much booze, too little food, and pathetically shitty rest that I had to blame.

It was that goddamn letter.

I’d opened it yesterday, skimming over the summons to report to the dean’s office.

Seeing that it was, indeed, the same old shit, I ignored it and joined my frat brothers in welcoming a bachelorette group who’d heard about us. That was how fantastic my parties were here. Even adults from town wanted in.

I also ignored coming to the meeting scheduled for yesterday, passed out with a pair of twins in bed with me. I’d really reached a new low when I hadn’t even fucked them. They passed out first, and I was glad I didn’t have to stay awake to fuck them.

Sitting up, I rubbed my face and worried about what was happening to me.

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