SINFUL TIES

CHAPTER FOUR: HOUSEMATES

If Hell had a dress code, it was Crestwood’s frat party.

I told myself I wouldn’t go. I swore up and down, pacing the suite while Ross smirked and Hugo lounged like a predator waiting for me to crack.

But then, there I was.

Shoved through the front doors of Delta Phi by Ross’s big warm hand on the small of my back, the smell of beer, sweat, and perfume hitting me like a slap.

The bass throbbed through the walls, the kind of sound that vibrated your ribs and rewired your heartbeat. Lights pulsed red and blue, bodies pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, laughter sharp as broken glass.

Invisible. That was the plan. Blend in, keep quiet, survive.

Except Ross and Hugo flanked me like I was their VIP guest. Which meant heads turned. Eyes followed. Whispers started.

“That’s her?”

“Who is she?”

“New girl. Scholarship."

“She’s with the Bakers?”

My stomach twisted. Every step deeper into that house felt like a walk into the lion’s den.

Ross leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. “Relax. No one’s going to eat you alive.”

I glared up at him. “You don’t know that.”

Hugo’s smirk was lazier, darker. “You’d be surprised.”

I hated the way heat rushed through me at that. Hated it.

Anyway, I made myself some silent rules.

Don't take any alcohol, don't accept anything from anybody.

Don't dance with anybody, before you end up making a fool of yourself.

Stay invisible. Tuck in the wall like a wallpaper if possible. At least till the night came to an end.

But apparently, “invisible” wasn’t in Ross and Hugo Baker’s vocabulary.

Because like I earlier said, the second we stepped into the frat house, the entire room seemed to turn and stare.

So much for subtle.

The bass thumped through the floors, shaking up my ribs. Lights flashed red and purple against the walls, bouncing off the frat’s obnoxious banners. Sweat, cologne, and stale beer thickened the air until it felt like I was breathing someone else’s exhale.

My sneakers stuck to the sticky floor as we pushed through the crowd. Someone shouted Ross’s name, someone else shouted Hugo’s, and both of them waved like rockstars. Me? I just wanted to sink through the sticky floor and die.

I clutched my plastic cup that was filled with nothing but water because I still had self-preservation, and muttered, “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

Ross bent down, his lips brushing close to my ear. “Because, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice smug, “you secretly like being seen with us.”

I almost threw my water at him. Hell, no, I didn't.

Hugo smirked without looking at me, his stormy eyes scanning the room. “Relax. You’ll survive.”

Easy for him to say. The crowd wasn’t whispering about him.

I tried to make myself small, but being between Ross and Hugo was like being dragged onto a stage. The whispers weren’t even quiet or low. I could hear them very clearly regardless the distance.

“Who the hell does she think she is?”

“Wait, is that the scholarship girl?”

“She’s with them? No way.”

The words clung like glue. My stomach twisted harder with each sideways glance.

Ross seemed oblivious, grinning like the sun, fist-bumping half the basketball team on his way toward the bar. Hugo walked slower, darker, his presence sharp enough to cut anyone who looked too long.

Me? I was the third wheel in their galaxy, orbiting where I didn’t belong.

I stopped at the edge of the room, pressing my back to the wall. Maybe if I stayed still, I could blend into the shadows. Maybe if I.....

“Olive!”

My head snapped up, dread already coiling in my stomach.

She was gliding toward me like a blonde bombshell in stilettos....

Of course.

Riley, Ross’s ex. The girl who could model perfume ads, the girl who had history with him, the girl who oozed confidence from every pore. How did I know? She was as popular in the school as Ross and Hugo. It wasn't hard to identify her.

Of course. Because the universe wasn’t done humiliating me.

“Wow,” Riley said sweetly, stopping in front of me. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

I gripped my cup tighter. “Neither did I.”

Her eyes flicked over my plain jeans and thrifted top. Her smile widened, but it was the kind that cut. “Aw. They let in charity cases now?”

The word slammed into me like a fist. Charity.

I forced a breath. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t be shy,” she cooed, tilting her head. “Everyone knows who you are. The scholarship girl. Makes sense you’d chase after the Bakers. Who wouldn’t want to upgrade?”

My cheeks burned. “I’m not...”

Before I could finish, Riley’s hand slipped—“oops”—and the cold splash of vodka cranberry drenched my front.

Gasps. Laughter. The crowd cackled.

“Oh no,” Riley gasped, her voice dripping with mock-innocence. “I hope your little bursary covers dry-cleaning.”

The side talks hit me all at once.

“Scholarship girl.”

“Trying too hard.”

“Pathetic.”

I froze. The sticky liquid clung to my shirt, my skin. My throat locked.

I looked at Ross. At Hugo. Waiting for one of them to do something, say something.

But Ross’s jaw was just starting to tighten, Hugo’s glare was barely forming, and by the time they moved...by the time they even registered what Riley had done...it was already too late.

The laughter had swallowed me whole.

I couldn't take it. Anxiety kicked in.

I shoved past Riley, past Ross’s startled “Olive, wait,” past Hugo’s low curse. The music pounded in my ears, mixing with the roaring in my head.

Cold air slapped me as I stumbled outside. My chest heaved, my vision blurred. Tears stung hot against my cheeks, streaking whatever mascara I’d managed to apply.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Stupid,” I whispered to myself, running across campus. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. Should’ve stayed home.”

The word scholarship echoed louder than the music. Louder than Riley’s laughter.

Scholarship girl. Charity case.

Because that’s what I was, wasn’t it? The girl Crestwood tolerated out of obligation. The girl whose entire life was one step away from collapsing if her grades slipped.

The one who’d promised herself she’d never be humiliated like this.

And yet here I was, drenched in sticky alcohol, branded in front of everyone.

I couldn’t go back to the dorm. Not tonight. Not with them.

Not when the whole school had seen me for what I really was.

“Hey.”

The voice startled me. I spun around, breath catching.

A boy stood under the glow of a streetlight, his shadow stretching across the path. Tall. Broad shoulders beneath a worn hoodie. Dark curls that fell into soft brown eyes, the kind that didn’t pierce like Hugo’s or sparkle like Ross’s....they just… looked warm.

He raised his hands slightly, palms open, like he didn’t want to scare me. “You okay?”

I sniffed, swiping at my blotchy face. “I’m fine.”

He arched a brow. “Right. Because people usually run around campus at midnight in soaked clothes for fun.”

Despite myself, a weak laugh slipped out.

He smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t feel forced. “I’m Karl. Karl Mark. Just transferred in.”

Karl. A new name.

He tilted his head toward the path. “You, uh… look like you could use a couch. Mine’s not far. No pressure.”

My chest ached, but something in his tone let the tension drain out of me.

And even though I barely knew him, even though my head screamed 'don’t trust anyone,' my feet followed anyway.

Because right then, Karl felt like the only person on this entire campus who didn’t see me as a scandal.