The Chase

  Beyond the curtains, Fitz reaches the end and does the turn like we’d practiced, albeit awkwardly. The people occupying the rows of seats on either side of the runway break out in applause, and my smile doubles in size.

  As I suspected, the briefs are a wee bit loose in the front, since Rex’s rocket is slightly bigger than Fitzy’s. But that’s not to say my man doesn’t fill out a pair of briefs fantastically. And besides, I honestly wouldn’t have cared if half the swimsuits hadn’t fit. I’m just thrilled we managed to find replacements for all six players.

  Someone else isn’t as thrilled, though. Erik Laurie sits in the front row with the other members of the faculty, including Mallory Reyes, the department head. Laurie holds his program in his lap, fashionable as ever in a pinstriped suit and with his hair slicked away from his high forehead and clean-shaven face.

  A face that’s harder than stone as he stares at my model. Correction, at my boyfriend, who is so fucking hot it’s almost…otherworldly. Yup. No other way to describe the oiled-up, muscled, tattooed man putting himself on display for me.

  “I want to go out there and bang him on the runway,” I growl. “In front of everybody. I don’t even care.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Brenna answers. “Look at that body. He’s magnificent.”

  He really is. And the relief on his face when he returns backstage is almost comical.

  “I feel like I’m going to ralph,” he groans.

  I tamp down a laugh. “You were so good!” I assure him. “But, quick. We need to get Rex’s trunks on you because you’re walking again after Nate.”

  Each designer was given our own dressing space sectioned off by a curtain, and I shove Fitz toward mine. His second swimsuit is nowhere near as skimpy as the first one. I saved the trunks for last so he could be done with the awkward briefs right off the bat.

  Fitz scratches his bare chest, then remembers that Brenna and I rubbed oil over all the guys before the show started. His big paw is glistening now, and he bites his tongue seductively before saying, “I’m all oily. Can you take these off for me?”

  I roll my eyes. “Oily hands in no way prevent you from taking your own briefs off.” But I still hook my fingers under his elastic waistband, because what woman would ever say no to sliding what’s essentially underwear off this hottie’s body?

  I slip my hands under the briefs and squeeze his butt cheeks. His ass is so muscular, it’s insane.

  Fitz’s eyes flare. “Don’t do that,” he warns. “You’ll make me hard.”

  “You’re the one who wanted me to undress you.”

  “You’re right. What was I thinking?” He swats my hands away and drops trou on his own.

  I have one brief, glorious moment to admire his sweet penis before he has the trunks on and is tightening the drawstring. “How do I look?” he asks.

  “Fuckable.” I reach around to smack his ass. “Now get back to work.”

  He chuckles as I usher him out of the dressing space and get him in position. Nate walks off the runway, and Fitz steps onto it, but before he walks, he winks at me and murmurs, “I wouldn’t do this for just anybody, you know.”

  “I know. And I love you for it.”

  Brenna sighs as he disappears. “You two are so sappy.”

  “Yup. I own that.” I grin at her. “You still seeing McCarthy?” She’s being very mum about her love life lately.

  She shrugs. “Not really. He’s in Boston. I’m in Hastings. I’m not going to make that much of an effort for a Harvard boy.”

  “What if it was Connelly?” I counter. “Would you make the trek to see him?”

  “What’s with you and Connelly?” she demands in exasperation. “I swear, you’re obsessed with the guy. He’s an arrogant ass, Summer.”

  “But he’s so hot.”

  “Arrogant asses tend to be hot. That’s how they become arrogant asses.”

  Fitz returns with loud cheers in his wake, and I urge Hollis to get out there. He’s closing my show, and he milks the finale for all he’s worth. Flexing his biceps as he plants his hands on his hips. Showing off the hard ridges of his abs as he does his turn. And then my part is over and the Kappa sisters are hugging me, and a few of my classmates congratulate me on a job well done.

  Ben is up next, so my friends and I clear the wings for him and his models. Brenna and the Kappas go to sit in the audience while Fitz and the others change into their clothes. I thank each of them profusely for their help, and a pang of sadness tugs at my heart at Hunter’s noticeable absence. Fitz and I agreed it’s best to give Hunter space, but it still sucks knowing I’d hurt him.

  When it’s just Fitz and me (and he’s wearing clothes), I grab the back of his head to tug his mouth to mine. “Thank you,” I whisper against his lips. “You literally saved my life.”

  “Well, not literally,” he whispers back.

  “Literally,” I argue, and his lips twitch in humor before covering mine again.

  Someone gasps from behind us, and we break apart to see Nora standing several feet away. At first she’s pale with shock, but then her lips twist in a nasty grimace and she spits out, “I can’t believe you, Fitz. That’s who you were talking about? Her?”

  And then she stomps off, her pink-streaked black hair whipping as she spins around.

  I turn to him in confusion. “What did she mean, what you were talking about? When did you talk to her?”

  “Right after we slept together for the first time,” he says gruffly. “I told her I couldn’t go out with her again because I started seeing somebody.”

  “Oh. You didn’t mention that.”

  “To be honest, I forgot.”

  I’d forgotten about Nora too, at least in relation to Fitz. She’s no longer a threat to me, although I do feel bad that she witnessed us kissing when I know she had a crush on him.

  Do you, though? inner Selena Gomez asks. I can tell she’s trying not to stick her tongue out at me.

  Fine. Maybe I don’t feel that bad.

  “Should I go talk to her?” he says in concern.

  “Absolutely not,” I say cheerfully. “She’s a big girl, and she’ll get over it.”

  The fashion show ends around nine thirty, which was when it was scheduled to start before Laurie decided that tearing apart my essay and embarrassing me in front of the class wasn’t enough. But his attempt to sabotage me tonight failed. And I don’t miss the anger in his eyes when Mallory Reyes pulls me aside at the Briar-hosted after-party and raves about my designs. She can’t get enough of the bohemian influence mingled with my modern glam style, and she says as much to Laurie as he stands there glowering at me over her head.

  “Come talk to me before the semester ends so we can brainstorm your work placement for your senior year. I have some ideas.” She glances at Laurie. “I adore this girl’s style, Erik. It’s a lot of fun.”

  “Very fun,” he agrees, but the unchecked anger in his eyes betrays his airy tone.

  I don’t give a shit how much he hates me, though. The independent study is pass/fail, and there’s no possible way he can fail me after Mallory spent the past ten minutes gushing about my work. Even better, she’s the one who’ll be reviewing my midterm appeal once I begin the process.

  I have a feeling it’s going to go in my favor.

  I excuse myself and do some mingling. Fitz stays by my side, looking less miserable than usual at having to attend a social function. He’s evolving, my sweet-penis man. I’m proud of him.

  His teammates take up residence at one of the two bars. Since the party is being hosted by the university’s Fine Arts department, the bartenders aren’t serving anyone without ID. But most of us are of age, and I sip a wine spritzer while Fitz drinks a beer, and we stand there watching the crowd for a bit. Brenna is on the other side of the room chatting with Hollis. They’re laughing about something, and every time she throws her head back, I notice a spark of hope in his eyes. Poor Mike. One of these days he’s going to have to accept that she
’s not interested in him.

  Fitz gets drawn into hockey talk with Nate and Matt, so I wander around and mingle some more. At one point I bump into Nora and nearly compliment her on her show. Her punk-rock-inspired dresses had been pretty incredible. But her eyes blaze the moment we collide, so I simply murmur an apology and keep walking.

  A bit later, I see her at the bar chatting with Laurie, and her expression is drastically brighter. She’s sipping on a pink cocktail, and he’s holding a glass of red wine. He touches her arm, and then he winks and tweaks a strand of her black-and-pink hair. She giggles.

  Looks like Nora got her wish—she’s finally the exclusive recipient of Laurie’s attention. Well, she can have the slimy bastard. Good riddance.

  The party is winding down when my phone vibrates in the back pocket of my skinny jeans. I pull it out to find a text from Rex.

  REX: Saw on Snapchat da hockey boys rocked it. Pissed tho. We wanted to do it!!

  ME: I know you did, sweetie

  REX: Still on for the after party, tho? Got all these kegs here. Shame to waste em.

  I walk back to the bar and address Fitz and the others. “Are you down for the after-after-party at Rex’s?”

  “Sure,” Fitz says, although grudgingly. “If you want to go?”

  “Absolutely,” I answer without delay. “Daphne Kettleman will be there.”

  “Why do you care about this chick so much?” He gives a resigned head shake.

  “Because she’s Daphne Kettleman.”

  He scrubs his hands over his face. “Summer. I feel like I’m going to be saying this a lot, but… I don’t understand you.”

  Nate snickers.

  “It’s okay, babe. Not a lot of people do.” I smack a kiss on his cheek. “All right. Why don’t you boys take off now? We’re starting cleanup soon, so I need to stay for that, but I’ll meet you at the Elmhurst house once I’m done.”

  “I can stay and help,” Fitz offers.

  “You already helped enough.” My tone is firm. “Take Brenna and the Kappas, and go to Rex’s. I’ll be there in an hour, tops.”

  “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone here.”

  “Pussy whipped,” Hollis coughs under his breath.

  “I won’t be alone,” I tell Fitz. “Ben and Nora”—I make a face as I say her name—“volunteered to clean up too.”

  “Be nice,” Fitz chides.

  “Hey, I’m nothing but nice to her. She’s the one who acts like a bitch to me.” I send Rex a message that the party is still a go, then slide my phone in my pocket. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Ben and I have stacked the last of the chairs, boxed up all the hangers, and de-cluttered as best as we could. Someone from the university is supposed to collect all this stuff in the morning and return it to the Fashion department.

  I gesture to the raised runway in the center of the massive room. “They don’t expect us to take that apart, do they?”

  “No, I think the crew’s doing it when they come to pick up all the chairs and stuff.”

  “Okay. Good.” I check the time on my phone. “You coming to the party?”

  He rubs his fingers over his bushy eyebrows. “I don’t know… A football party, huh?”

  “You got something against football?” I tease.

  “No, but I’ve received enough wedgies from football players that it’s left me a bit scarred.” His mouth widens in a cheeky smile. “I’ve also received enough BJs from football players to make up for that.”

  I gasp. “Ben, you bad boy! One, I didn’t know you were gay. And, two, we have something in common—we both like athletes!”

  “We had other things in common before,” he answers dryly. “We’re both fashion majors? We both love Chanel and Versace?”

  “True. So are you coming to the party or not?”

  “Sure, what the hell. Do you need a ride?”

  “Thanks, but I drove here too.” I’m about to slide my hand in my purse to fish out my keys, when I realize I’m not wearing my purse. I’d left it on the floor of the dressing area when Ben and I were folding up all the curtains. Nora had been helping at one point too, but I don’t know where she ran off to. She probably took off to avoid having to spend time with me.

  “I’ll see you at Rex’s,” I tell Ben.

  “Sexy Rexy,” he murmurs.

  “Oh God, please call him that to his face so I can see his reaction.”

  He snickers. “If I think it’ll get me a BJ and not a wedgie, I will,” he promises.

  Ben leaves, and I hop onto the runway and walk toward the backstage area, where I quickly grab my purse. Before I can leave, I hear a female giggle.

  I freeze, my gaze moving toward the corridor that leads to the Arbor House management offices. It also features a closet-sized bathroom that I used earlier tonight.

  Another giggle echoes from the corridor. I’m pretty sure it’s Nora, and my eyes narrow at the shadowy doorway. Who the heck is she with?

  In a heartbeat, it dawns on me. Laurie? I suddenly realize I never saw him leave tonight, either. He just sort of disappeared from the party, same way Nora disappeared in the middle of cleanup.

  I follow the giggles to the corridor and slant my head. Sure enough, a male voice. It’s coming from the bathroom, and it’s almost certainly Laurie. Then Nora’s muffled voice, followed by Laurie again, as he says something that makes her laugh again.

  Good for her, I guess. She’s had a crush on the creep since the first day of classes. Now she gets to live the creepy dream.

  I’m about to walk away when I hear her cry out.

  It’s not a scream of terror but an exclamation of surprise, as if he startled her. But it’s enough to make me walk toward the bathroom to check if she’s all right. I remember the look of betrayal on Laurie’s face when I rejected his advances in his office. Granted, he released me the instant I said no. But he was also stone-cold sober that day, and on university property.

  Tonight I saw him drink at least three glasses of red wine. Plus, he was already in a snit because I thwarted his evil agenda. I wouldn’t feel right if I left without making sure Nora is—

  “Stop it.”

  Okay, I heard that as clear as day.

  I reach the door just as the sounds of a scuffle echo behind it. A thud, as if someone bumped into something. A soft clatter, as if an item fell off the counter and onto the tiled floor. The soap dish, maybe.

  Nora’s voice is firm. “Stop it. I said no.”

  And then I hear Laurie’s smarmy voice mutter, “Cocktease.”

  There’s another crash. Nora cries out again, and I almost keel over with relief when I turn the knob and find the door isn’t locked. Thank God.

  I throw it open and shout, “Let her go!”

  33

  Summer

  Laurie’s hand is cupped between Nora’s legs. Her hand is clamped over his as she forcibly tries to push it away. The sight turns my vision into a sea of red. I lunge at the professor, one arm slicing up and then down as I karate chop the back of his neck. He howls in pain and stumbles away from Nora.

  “What the hell!” he roars, angrily rubbing the spot that the side of my hand connected with.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I snap back. “Am I interrupting something?” My stomach churns when I notice the bulge in his pants. That bastard. I turn to Nora, whose face is ashen, her fingers quivering wildly as she tries to smooth the hem of her rumpled dress.

  “Are you okay?” I ask urgently.

  “I’m fine.”

  She doesn’t sound fine. Her voice is weak, and her legs are visibly wobbling as she comes toward me. I wrap a protective arm around her trembling shoulders. The fact that she lets me tells me how shaken up she actually is.

  “Of course she’s fine,” Laurie says stiffly. “I don’t know what you think is going on right now, Summer, but Nora was not in any danger from me. Your hysteria, not to mention your ludicrous assumptions abou
t what was happening are not only insulting, but you also just left yourself open to an assault charge.”

  I can’t stop an incredulous laugh. “You’re going to have me arrested for assault? Are you kidding me? And I know exactly what was going on in here before I came in.”

  “Nothing untoward occured between Nora and myself. Isn’t that right, Nora?”

  She doesn’t respond. She simply shakes harder in my arms.

  “You’re disgusting,” I hiss at our esteemed professor.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spits out. “You interrupted a consensual intimate moment between me and—”

  “A student!” I finish in disbelief. “Between you and a student! Even if it was consensual—and it didn’t fucking look that way from where I was standing—how is it in any way appropriate?”

  His lips flatten in an angry line. I wait for a denial, an apology, anything. What I get is, “I don’t need to deal with this.”

  I gape. “Like hell you don’t—”

  But he’s already storming off. Frantic footsteps reverberate backstage, then get softer and softer until a door finally slams. And then everything goes silent.

  Nora’s entire body is still shaking. “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “Hey, it’s no problem.” I tighten my hold on her. She needs it, otherwise I suspect she’ll topple over. “But we need to go to the police now.”

  Her head snaps up, the top of it nearly clipping my chin. “What? Why?”

  “He would’ve raped you if I hadn’t come along, Nora. You know that, right?”

  “Maybe not.” But there’s no conviction at all. She clears her throat, straightens her shoulders, and eases out of my embrace. “He didn’t rape me, though. And I know how this will play out—my mom’s a public defender. It’ll be my word against his. All he did was stick his hand between my legs. There’s no bruises, no evidence of assault.”