Page 42 of The Masks We Break

And soon enough, I find myself done and on the way to my frat date.

* * *

I don’t knowwhat I was expecting Omega Phi frat house to look like, but I definitely didn’t expect this.

It’s one of many on a long street just outside of Solace Academy. It’s two stories, dark red brick, a fully manicured lawn with boxwood bushes under the front windows. The shutters are painted a bright white, and there’s a covered patio adding to the curb appeal. The only thing that separates this house from a normal suburban home are the deep purple lamp posts resting at the edge of the walkway.

“Don’t look so surprised there, sweets.”

Ricky chortles, drawing my attention to my gaping mouth. I quickly close it, but not before a warmth covers my cheeks, not meaning to get caught showing my preconceived expectation on my face.

While I thought I was relatively early, there are at least three other frats having parties and the street is packed. I had to park around the corner and must not have noticed Ricky standing off to the side when I walked up.

My eyes move from the landscape in front of me to Ricky leaning against a lamppost, his hands tucked in his front jean pockets. The bright light refracts off his blonde waves, creating an odd illusion of a halo above his head, while the rest of his face drowns in shadows. The sight sends a shiver down my spine as I find my voice. “Sorry-y. Just not what I was expecting.”

One side of his lips curl, a devious smirk taking over his face. “I get it, but you should never judge a book by its cover.”

I smile from the irony, which seems to be a constant these days, and turn to follow him up the long path.

A double ping vibrates in my hand just as we reach the porch. I glance down at the notification to see two texts from Amora, and a five percent battery warning.

“Crap.”

“Everything okay?” Ricky asks, wrapping his hand around the doorknob.

I nod, shoving the phone back into my pocket and tucking a loose strand behind my ear. “Yeah, my roommate was letting me know she made it to her date okay, and my phone is about to die. I guess I used it too much while at Dr. Humphrey’s.”

Ricky smiles, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Saying you regret texting me so much?”

Huffing a laugh, my hands find the hem of my oversized Sailor Moon shirt and tug. “How’d you know?” I tease.

Ricky lifts his chin and laughs. “You’re something else, Remy. Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

I smile politely, but I decide to ask for water when we get inside. These past couple months have taught me that drinking does nothing but get me into trouble. Usually the six foot two variety, with dark hair, and a dangerous set of hypnotic eyes.

Ugh. I should not be thinking about Blaze right now.

Inwardly, I scold myself. Ricky and I aren’t exclusively dating but the notion of thinking about another guy, no matter the context, feels like I’m in the wrong. He’s kind, polite, and shows all the signs of a good option. A good distraction.

Wait.That doesn’t sound right. He’s not a—

“You okay there?” Ricky leans against the doorframe, upbeat music from inside now streaming into the dark night. “You zoned out for a second.”

A new warmth blooms on my face as I close the distance. “Sorry, I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

He tilts his head for a moment, almost as if he’s considering my words before holding out his hand. “Well let’s try to change that, shall we?”

I grab his hand, ignoring the lack of electricity that zings through me from his touch and follow him inside.

Nowthisis a frat house.

Upon entry, the large foyer opens up to an open floor plan that is currently packed with bodies. Half the guests crowd around a TV, while others congregate at a pool table, and the rest skirt between the dance floor and the keg stand, refilling their drinks. The only light filtering in through the massive amount of people comes from the kitchen and a DJ, in what I assume is the living room near a large fireplace.

Having been to quite a few of Lily’s parties, neither the noise nor the closeness of everyone bothers me, but being surrounded by not one familiar face does. I tighten my grip on Ricky’s hand, anchoring to him as he leads me through the sea of people. When we reach the kitchen he leans close, his warm breath skirting over my ear. “What’s your favorite beer?”

“Actually, can I start with a nonalcoholic drink?”

Half expecting him to give me an odd look for not wanting a beer at a party, he nods. “For sure. I have plenty of bottles of lemonade. Let me grab us some, and then we can go upstairs to the outdoor patio. It’s usually not as crowded right now.”

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