Page 4 of You Were Never Not Mine

“You just thought what?” I prompt when she remains quiet.

“That it could be a fun way to meet hot guys!” She rests her hands on her hips. “I mean, who cares about that one guy who ruined your life for a year?” Yes, I told her about him because I had to. “I know you hate him, and he deserves your hatred. He’s a dick.”

I blink at her, shocked she called him that.

“But there are going to be so many people there, I doubt you’ll even run into him,” she tacks on. “So…screw that guy! Let go of all of your resentment and have fun for once in your life.”

I can’t even take offense to what Elise said because she’s probably right. The parties that this particular frat hosts are huge. The house will be packed with a variety of people and besides, I’m not even on August Lancaster’s radar. I’m sure he hasn’t thought about me in years. Like why would he? He dismissed me the moment he first set eyes on me.

Well. Sort of. I still don’t understand his fascination with me back then. That’s the word I use to describe it because why else would he torment me for so long?

“Though he is superhot.” Elise giggles, covering her mouth with her fingertips.

My gaze sharpens the moment it lands on her. “When have you seen him?”

“I’ve seen photos of him. Everyone knows who he is.” She shrugs and starts walking. All I can do is fall into step beside her.

And there’s the problem. He’s practically a celebrity on this campus, the same as he was back at Lancaster Prep. Everyone knew him and bowed down to him. It was annoying and made him incredibly obnoxious. He thought he was untouchable. Worse?

He was.

“By the way, you look gorgeous,” Elise calls from over her shoulder, her steps getting faster. “He’ll probably see you and fall instantly in love.”

I grimace. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Oh, whatever.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t even worry about that guy. He’s not going to know who you are.”

Chapter Two

AUGUST

It’s another Friday night and there’s a wild party currently taking place at the house.

Fucking great.

But what else is new? This is the grind we’ve been on since I showed up on campus three years ago. The AAO fraternity—Alpha Alpha Omega because of course we have alpha in there twice—has been around since the dawn of time. AKA our founding date, which is 1877. Only the richest, most elite families are allowed into the fraternity, and becoming a member is by invitation only.

Generations of Lancasters have been members, not that many Lancasters have gone to college these last twenty years or so. Not even my father, who had no real interest in going to a university. His interests were strictly in my mother, and that isn’t even a joke. He admitted as much to me when I was a preteen and hormonal as fuck.

“Hopefully you’ll meet a woman like your mother,” he said to me, careful not to give me too many details because that is the last thing I want to know about. “And you’ll never want to even look in another woman’s direction again.”

I adore my mother but that sounded like a death sentence then and it still does now. Why would I tie myself down with one particular woman when I could have…many? Anybody I want?

“You look like someone pissed in your beer.”

I tilt my head to the side, contemplating the glass I’m currently clutching. “First of all, I’m not drinking beer because it does, in fact, taste like what I imagine piss tastes like. And second, what the hell do you care how I look?”

I finally lift my gaze to find my best friend Cyrus Thornhill smiling at me, appearing amused at my expense, which is a normal look for him. He finds me funny, which is unusual because no one finds me amusing, least of all myself. But he’s the only person I can tolerate in my presence for an extended period of time, so I allow it.

“You’ve been in a mood since the semester started.” Cyrus settles heavily onto the couch I’m sitting on, jostling me, and I send him a dirty look, which he completely ignores. He comes from a family who made their fortune in biotech—which classifies him as coming from new money, but I don’t hold that against him. “What’s your problem?”

I say nothing. Just sip on the thirty-year-old scotch that is my personal stash and no one is allowed to drink it. If I catch anyone doing so without my permission, there is always hell to pay.

“You need to get laid.” Cyrus’s voice is tinged with amusement.

“I had sex last night.” I yawn, which I didn’t even mean to do, but that’s how much it affected me.

“What was her name?”

---