Page 6 of Fault Line

Holden Becker issuch an arrogant little shit. I swear to God he pushes my buttons on purpose because I’m generally an easygoing person.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch. In certain situations, I can be strung up fairly tight. Meticulous to a fault. But at least I pretend to be easy breezy in front of everyone else. When it comes to him, though, it’s like there’s this inescapable crack in my façade.

Regardless, I’m not sure how he’s fooled the general public into believing that he’s some sort of angel. This hapless little puppy who can do no wrong. It’s all part of that golden-boy act of his. And unlike the rest of the Coastal U population, I can see below the surface where his claws come out to play.

When it comes to getting what he wants, Holden’s just as ruthless and as cutthroat as I am.

If only I could’ve been a fly on the wall during his proposal today. I bet he charmed the pants right off those panel members. First, by flashing them that perfectly polished smile of his—maybe fumbling around with his notecards just to appear unassuming—and then running his fingers through that thick head of golden hair.

After that, as long as he was able to string a few coherent words together, they probably ate his idea right up.

While he may be an intelligent guy, his entire persona is the reason he stands out amongst our peers. It’s the whole Becker package wrapped up with a neat little bow. As much as it pains me to admit this, even to myself, the man is abhorrently good-looking. He’s also a confident, highly capable athlete. And, much to my dismay, the two of us are tied for the highest GPA in our department.

So yeah, all things considered, he’s super fucking annoying.

After making it through that eye-twitching proposal this morning, I’ve spent the last few hours relaxing on my own. Well, my version of relaxing, which includes holing up in my apartment and studying my ass off. Par for the course, I’ve finished at least half of next week’s assignments already.

That’s the price I have to pay for partying this weekend. Like I told Elio, I’m both desperate for and deserving of some action. It’s basically a deserted wasteland down there. And while I don’t usually make an effort to go out with my roommate, Lizzie, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make tonight.

Lizzie’s much more of a party girl than I am, a coed that’s devoted to living out all of her college daydreams. We’ve been sharing an apartment together for over a year now, but the two of us have never been very close. There’s nothing wrong with her, per se, other than the fact that she always asks me to pay for her shit. Plus, it can be difficult for me to open up to new people in general.

I still consider myself lucky to have found her, though. We used to be neighbors in the sophomore dorms, and we both happened to be looking for an apartment at the same time. Other than that, our list of commonalities stops right about there.

If I had a legitimate choice in the matter, I would force Elio to take me somewhere instead. He’s one of the few people I can always trust myself to let loose around. Unfortunately, he’s not interested in attending parties these days. Mostly because he doesn’t know if he can handle that type of environment yet.

He’s a strong guy—and he hasn’t relapsed in nearly three years—but the temptation still lingers in the back of his mind.

So, it’ll just be Lizzie and me tonight. I’m sure it’ll be a great time as long as I can keep my mind on the mission—finding someone to rail me, that is. Hopefully, well enough that I’m finally able to fall asleep afterward.

* * *

“Where is this party, anyway?”I ask Lizzie later that night, nearly tripping as I slip on a pair of comfortable shoes. She said we could trek over to this place on foot, so practicality is my top priority. Thankfully, there’s still a warm, coastal breeze here at night, which means we don’t have to worry too much about layering up.

“Probably about a mile from here,” she says, tossing me an innocent smile from across the hall. “Maybe a little more.”

My brow furrows with apprehension. I’m all for cutting back on gas emissions, but I feel a little wary about walking that far in the dark, especially when it’s just the two of us girls. “Are you sure we shouldn’t grab an Uber?”

“If you want to call one for us, that’s cool with me.”

As I bring up the app, I resist the urge to heave a sigh. I know I’m the one pushing for it, but with Lizzie’s track record, I’m inclined to believe this was her plan from the get-go. “What are the cross streets?”

“Fifty-Sixth and University.”

“Fifty-Sixth?” I adjust my skirt in front of our entryway mirror, hiking my stockings up and tucking them underneath the hemline. “Isn’t that a few blocks past Greek Row?”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly, what?”

She joins me in front of the mirror, swiping a tube of shiny pink gloss across her lips. “That’s where all the student athletes congregate.”

“Athletes?” I resist the urge to visibly cringe. “Are we talking football, baseball ... ?”

“Hockey, Kaia.” She gives me a playful scoff. “I guess you wouldn’t really know, but those guys always throw the best parties.”

“How is that even possible?” I run my fingers through my wand-curled strands, securing the tiny wayward pieces, to ensure that my hair’s still parted in its rightful place. I like to keep it slightly to the left of center, where I’m able to camouflage the small empty patch. “Aren’t they supposed to be focused on winning games or something?”

“Hockey season doesn’t start for another week, so this will be their last big hurrah.” She smacks her lips together, dabbing the excess gloss from the corner. “I mean, there will definitely be some other parties later on, but nothing like tonight.”

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