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Ha! I knew you were into him! Oh my God! Hold my juice—I think I need to break out in a happy dance! Do you know how to do the running man? If so, can you teach me right now?” Now let’s see…” Our house vice president puts one manicured finger to her chin and turns in a slow circle to survey the room, deciding on her first victim. “Who shall it be?” No, this is good,” she says. “Twenty minutes flat and those goons will have the keg killed. Then they’ll blow through whatever’s left of the liquor. I’d say that’s quitting time for me. Half-hour, tops.”

Just out of curiosity,” she says, “after you wake up in the morning, do you admire yourself in the mirror for one hour or two?” But the ritualistic practice of college kids plying each other with mind-altering substances until they mistake inebriation for attraction and inhibition for personality isn’t our fondest idea of a good time. I suppose it doesn’t matter. Fitzy has made it clear he’s not interested in me, even though the sparks between us are liable to burn our house down. I’m not the kind of girl who chases after a man, though, and I’m not about to start. I’ve got my hands full dealing with a new school, a sleazy professor, and an uncertain future. So if my sexy brooding roomie wises up and realizes what he’s missing? Debauched hoots and catcalls burst from the men still watching this display of female aggression play out.

This has the desired effect of loosening her shoulders and even eliciting a shy smile. “I have no doubt.” Elle currently writes for various publishers. She loves strong heroines and sexy alpha heroes, and just enough heat and danger to keep things interesting! Of course her evil green eyes land squarely on where Sasha and I are plastered against the wall. Abigail strides up to us with pure sugary malice. Sasha curls her lips and sort of snarls at her, which gets the guys in the room hooting in amusement. Dudes love catfights. Abigail’s a mean drunk, and I’m her favorite target. I’m used to it from her, but the laughs she elicits every time she uses my body as a punchline never fail to leave a scar. My curves have been the bane of my existence since I was twelve years old.For me, well, I suppose I had grand designs of a college glow up. From high school loser to college It Crowd. A reinvention. Total life makeover. Thing is, joining their clubs and wearing their letters and enduring their weeks of sacramental indoctrination didn’t have the desired effects. I didn’t come out the other side all shiny and new. It’s like everyone else drank the Kool-Aid and saw the pretty colors, but I was just left standing there in the dark with a cup of water and red food coloring.