Page 8 of Chaos & Corruption

“Case in point.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

I lift my beer to my lips once again, this time I drain the contents in a single gulp and slam the empty bottle on top of the table.

“Remember I told you about the bike guy who robbed my pizza?”

“Yeah, he was moving in his niece . . . ” Robinson’s voice trails and he looks back at Victoria. “That’s the girl who moved in upstairs?”

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” Webber mutters, reaching into the ice bucket for another brew. He unscrews the cap as his eyes cut back to Victoria and Mila. “Double trouble,” he slurs.

I narrow my eyes. A person could take that statement so many ways.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Webber waves his beer in the air like the sloppy drunk he is and tips his chin toward Robinson.

“Fill him in, will ya?”

My gaze slices to Robinson and I quirk a brow expectantly.

“Dude, Mila.”

“What about her?”

“You really do live in your own fucking bubble, huh? The girl has fucking slept with half the fucking campus, professors included. Rumor has it someone caught her giving Professor Alcott a blow job behind the science building. Some people say they were having an affair, but who knows—Alcott is notorious for fucking his students. However, after his wife stormed into the lecture hall last semester, ranting and raving that Alcott was having an affair, Mila transferred out of his class which only fueled the rumor mill some more.” He pauses. “How do you not know this?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Why would I? Who Alcott gets to suck him off doesn’t concern me in the least.”

“Yeah, well, if you’re looking to get your cock sucked by that girl, make sure you glove up because Mila is a walking STD and her friend probably is too.”

“You don’t know that,” I argue.

He points the neck of his beer at me and cocks his head.

“Birds of a feather, brother.”

If that were true, I’d be lumped in the douchebag category with these two and I like to think I’m better than that. I don’t judge a person based on rumors and I don’t judge them based on who they associate with. I’m the type that likes to draw his own conclusions and if that makes me a fool, well, so be it.

Robinson clears his throat causing me to lift my chin and meet his stare, but his attention isn’t focused on me and before I can follow his line of sight, I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. Turning around, my gaze lowers and collides with those mismatched eyes.

Fuck.

They are even more bewitching up close and her fucking eyelashes—they almost touch her perfectly arched brows. They gotta be fake, no one’s eyelashes are naturally that long.

“Hi,” she murmurs, flashing me a coy smile.

Christ.

When I don’t respond, she looks behind me and I immediately cringe.

“I’m Victoria Bianci,” she says, introducing herself to the two hound dogs that unfortunately act as my roommates.

“Mike Robinson,” he replies as he steps around me and offers Victoria his hand. “And that mess behind me, is Bailey Webber.”

She takes his hand and her smile widens.

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