Page 32 of Sexy Dare (The Sexy 1)

“What happened here?” Faith asked, her hand clasping his.

The bite of the cold wind nipped at his face, but he was here to feel the sensation. Levi wasn’t. So he stayed here, as he began to tell Faith the story.

“I met the guys in the dorm. We lived on the same hall and we clicked immediately. The four of us hung out and did everything together. We started school in late August, and of all the guys, I was closest to Levi. We had the same major, business, were in the same classes. He switched to room with me because he wanted a break from his twin.” He chuckled at the memory. The guys had started as roommates and things quickly devolved until Levi had wanted out.

“You must get close living together. I went to a local school, so I wouldn’t know. I can only guess,” she said.

He nodded. “It’s intense.” He leaned against the bannister leading up the stairs, and Faith stood beside him. “But it was good until Levi wanted to join a fraternity.”

“You didn’t?”

Jason shrugged. “I wasn’t much of a joiner. I liked doing my own thing. But Levi was persistent. He said the social life would be better, the girls hotter.”

“As if any of you had a hard time getting women.” Faith’s expression was priceless. Shock mixed with disbelief and a healthy dose of sarcasm in her tone.

“Hey. Freshman guys do not get the girls. Trust me.”

“If you say so.” She lifted one foot, bracing it on a higher step. But she didn’t push him for more serious conversation.

Still, he knew it was time. “All the frats had strict rules about alcohol because the drinking age was twenty-one and hazing was strictly forbidden both by school rules and the national fraternity. But why follow the rules, right?” he asked with disgust and obvious pain in his voice.

He didn’t even bother to hide it from her nor did he consider it a weakness. No, this event was what defined him and the kind of life he lived. He wasn’t embarrassed about hurting because he’d lost his best friend to a stupid, juvenile practice performed by self-righteous, entitled assholes.

Beside him, Faith froze. “Hazing?” She obviously hadn’t considered how Levi had died, because she sounded horrified as realization dawned.

“Hazing. A secret practice carried out by older classmen in the basement of this house.” Jason gestured with a sweep of his hand toward the building behind them. “Good old-fashioned kissing ass of seniors, doing their bidding, paddling, eating disgusting things I’ll spare you from hearing about, and forced alcohol consumption.” He clenched his jaw at the memories he did his best to keep far away from his present reality.

“God. Jason, I’m sorry. If you don’t want to tell me what happened, I understand.” Faith’s green eyes were bright with unshed tears as she held on to his hand with hers, her free one in the pocket of her jacket.

The irony didn’t escape him and he explained it to her. “I didn’t talk about it with anyone. My parents sent me to therapy and I went because they insisted, but I didn’t speak. Week after week, I sat in silence until the therapist gave up. So did my parents. They left me to brood. I never wanted to discuss it … until now.” He wanted to tell her about the raw pain he’d experienced and then let her soothe the remaining ache.

“Then I’m listening.”

He nodded, grateful. “The final initiation, as the upper-class guys called it, was scheduled on a Saturday night. Up until that point, we considered it just bullshit we had to get through to join, but Landon heard rumors that this last party usually got out of hand. And the guys in charge our year were determined to make a name for themselves in the history of the frat. They’d make it more difficult for us than any year before.”

Faith squeezed his hand. “Do you want to go inside? Or find someplace warmer to talk?”

“No. I need to do this here.” He knew she was cold and he was determined to get through the rest quickly so they could go home and he could lose himself inside her warmth. “We tried to talk Levi out of going but he insisted.”

“And you guys weren’t going to let him go alone,” she correctly guessed.

He nodded. “Right. It started with shots. We could deal with shots of vodka, right? The night passed and we drank. And drank. And soon we were all given handles of what we thought was regular vodka. Turns out it was one hundred proof.”

“Crap,” she muttered under her breath.

Although he could describe the paddling and the pain, she didn’t need to hear that any more than he needed to relive it. “They insisted we finish a handle. Levi volunteered to go first.”

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