Once we’re in his room, he flops onto the bed and pulls me down on top of him. “What’s wrong?” Nice of him to ask, but the way he kisses me suggests he’s not all that concerned.
“This whole Sweetheart thing.”
“Braden’s not gonna screw Liv over. I promise.”
“Good.” One less thing to worry about. “Because she’s really excited about it.”
“So why aren’t you?” At least he acknowledges that I’m hesitant.
I tip onto my side and play with his sun-streaked curls. “I know this sounds crazy, but I was so relieved when the whole sorority thing didn’t work out.”
“Yeah, well, some of them can be pretty bitchy. The brothers aren’t like that.”
“I know.” They truly aren’t. “But?—”
“And we don’t expect you to do laundry.”
No, they’d expect me to be their little pet. Their mascot. I’ve seen what Jenna and Mia do: they’re the pretty faces that build the frat’s cachet. The ribbons on the present. The flowers on the cake.
Theornaments.
Zander raises up on an elbow, bewildered. “I don’t get it. I thought you’d be excited.”
“It’s not that—I mean, I’m flattered. It’s nice that all the brothers like me. But I like things the way they are.” I snuggle closer to him. “You know—unofficial.”
“Nothing would change. It’s just a label.”
“But Jenna and Mia do all sorts of stuff for you guys.”
He shrugs. “No more than you’d do in a sorority. Probably even less because we’re dudes and we don’t give two fucks about all that protocol shit.”
I think back to the morning after Jason OD’d in the basement. To how freaked out Zander and the other O-Chi officers were about losing their charter. They care more than they think they do. And if they’d been reported, Jenna and Mia would’ve had to help smooth things over. The last thing the brothers need is an oversensitive, clairsentient psychic trying to serve as ambassador in stressful situations.
“But I’m more of a behind-the-scenes kind of person. You know, an introvert.”
Zander’s grin is sexy and slow. “Not with me.” He tugs on my waist until I’m pressed against him.
I accept a kiss, but no more. When his hands start roaming, I push him back. “Seriously, Zander. I need you to listen to me.”
He rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. “What’s the big deal? The guys love you. You’re the perfect Sweetheart. You’re even actually sweet.”
Flattery isn’t going to work. Especially because I know what he means by sweet: docile, cooperative, eager-to-please. I’m running out of the energy and will to be all the things that make me so “perfect” in his and the brothers’ eyes.
Zander kisses me again and adds, “You’re one of us. You don’t belong in some stuck-up sorority. You belong here.”
I say flatly, “You mean withyou.”
“Well, yeah,” he grins.
When I don’t grin back, his brow dips. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing. It’s just, I like O-Chi being part of my life, but I don’t want it to be all of it. There are other things I want to do.”
He’s frustrated. And incredulous. “Like what?”
His scowl has my hackles up. I rise to my knees and throw up my hands. “I don’t know. Things.” Convinced Zander won’t understand, I trip on my words. “I—I love to read. And go for walks—like real walks—out in nature.” Not just between Newberry and Fraternity Row. My shoulders sag. “And I don’t like to drink every night and go to big parties all the time.”
Zander is defensive. “Since when? You have your own cooler, for fuck’s sake.”
