Fate (Choices #2)

Fate

By Sydney Lane

For my Mom who lived it with me.....

Copyright
@2013 by Sydney Lane

Cover image designed and owned by Melissa Storm Allen

Cover model Josh Gray

Edited by
Erin Giblin, KM Krick

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the above author of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Chapter 1

             
The best thing about college is having no one to answer to. I can come and go as I please. Party hard and play harder. Study when I feel like it. Sleep with whomever I want. It doesn’t get much better than that. I only have to answer to myself, but my personal standards are higher than many give me credit for. Most people don’t realize that my fraternity brothers rely on me for notes and tutoring. I’m not a
total
slacker.

I’m taking psych as an elective, hoping for an easy A
. Dr. Grimes is boring as hell, but Eric and Declan are taking it with me. Since it’s the first day of class, we aren't even pretending to listen.

“We still having that party at the house this weekend?”
I ask Eric, our resident party planner. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, he lures the girls in. When he bats his long eyelashes, they can’t resist. More girls come to our house than any other fraternity house, and I give him all the credit.

“Hell, yeah! You
know it. I’ve already scouted some new girls and invited them.” If he invited them, they will come.

“Dec, you gonna be a
DD?” Declan is our chapter chaplain, and he's almost always a designated driver. Lucky for me, I live in the house, and I don’t have far to go. When he doesn’t answer, I glance over at him. He's looking over my shoulder, smiling like a complete idiot. I’m about to give him hell when I turn and see her for myself.

Long brown hair, wide brown eyes
, naturally beautiful with no make-up or any of that other girly shit. She is tiny. And sexy as hell. No fucking wonder he’s smiling like an idiot. She looks up and notices Declan watching her. When she smiles shyly and looks away, I think she might be the best thing I’ve seen in the two years I’ve been here. And she’s entirely too sweet for me.

             
“Dec, man, get your head out of your ass. You gonna be a DD or not?” He's so easy to mess with, and I love giving him a hard time every chance I get.

His head snaps around, “Yeah, man. I usually am, aren’t I?”  His answer is clipped, and I know he’s annoyed with my interruption.

Though I try not to look over my shoulder, I catch him watching the girl more than once. He’s definitely interested in her. I’m not sure why, but it bothers me. Maybe for once, I’d like to get the nice girl.

I’m not really what I’d call
“boyfriend material”. I try to treat women with respect, but I make it clear that things aren’t going any further than the bedroom. I don’t want any misunderstandings with hurt feelings and crushed expectations. I can honestly say that I have never been mean or rough with any girl, but I still wouldn’t let my sister date a guy like me.

I don’t know what it is, but girls like me. They always have. That’s one reason I haven’t really wanted any of the girls I’ve been with. It’s just too damn easy. I don’t have
to work for anything, and they're all too willing to come back for more, even when they know the score.

I grew up in Nashville, Tennessee
, the home of country music. I had the quintessential all-American family, and I won’t apologize for it. I knew others struggled in their home life, but I never truly understood it. I didn’t have to.

My family is the
typical Southern family. There are a lot of us, and we stick together. My mom has two sisters, and my dad has two brothers and one sister. They all have families of their own, too. I have my older sister, and even though she’s a pain in the ass, I’d do anything for her. My dad is a lawyer, and he works long hours. My mom is an accountant, but when we were little, she was a stay at home mom. Back then, I took it all for granted. But sometime, between being a boy and becoming a man, I learned to appreciate her sacrifices.

In high school, I played soccer and baseball. I’m competitive, but I wasn’t a dedicated athlete. I enjoyed winning and
, well…. the girls. Girls love jocks. And even though I didn’t really fit the mold, they loved me.

I’ve only had one serious girlfrie
nd, and that was all I needed. She wasn’t the first girl I’d been with, but she was the first one who made me work for it. She loved playing hard to get, and I loved the chase. Maybe I even thought I loved her, but what I know now is that people only show you the person they want you to see. The longer you stay together, the harder it is to hide who you really are. Eventually, that shit all comes out, and you're left with a stranger.

I haven’t had a girlfriend since. People think it’s because she broke my heart. The truth is that I’m just damn glad I didn’t get stuck with her. I dodged a bullet and came out a better man. Well, not really, but I like to think I am.

Chapter 2

              Eric and I watch as the pledges clean and get the house ready for the party. It’s our job to give them a hard time while they scurry about. Sounds cruel, but I was a pledge once. I survived, and so will they.

             
“So, listen, Brody. I invited this girl over tonight. She’s off limits. You got it?” I almost spew out the beer in my mouth. What the hell? Eric has never warned me off a girl before. Never.

             
Smiling to myself, I say, “I bet you invited a lot of girls, so how the hell am I supposed to know which one she is?” This could be fun.

“Dammit, man, I mean it. She'
s a tall blonde, nice tan, legs that don’t stop. You’ll know her when you see her. She’s mine.” I can't believe these words are actually coming out of his mouth. He hasn’t even touched her, and he’s already pussy-whipped. Haven’t I taught him anything?

“Dude, calm down. If it means that much to you, I’ll leave her alone.” I smirk. “Well, that is,
unless she wants me to hit on her.” I couldn't resist, and the look on his face is well worth it. I shake my head and smile.
That was too damn easy.
After a long glare, he stalks away, presumably to figure out how to keep me away from his next conquest. I didn’t tell him that I already have a girl lined up.

Whitney is a girl I
met last semester. She's hot, good in bed, and doesn’t expect me to act like a boyfriend. We see each other when we see each other, and that seems to be working just fine. I ran into her today, and she made sure I knew she would be here tonight. Unless I find something better, that works for me.

             
Heading to my room to get ready for the party, I’m already pumped. The first few parties of the year are always fun. There are no pressures of Rush, and everyone is excited to be back at school after summer break. But I gotta admit, it does get old by the end of the semester.

             
Living in the house has its advantages. If I get drunk or want to bring a girl up to my room, it’s convenient. On the other hand, the constant stream of activity can be distracting. People pop into your room all day long, just wanting to shoot the shit or hang out. If I’m not in a party mood, I’m stuck with it, unless I find another place to stay for the night.

             
I pull on some jeans and a black t-shirt, run my hands though my hair, and I’m ready to go. I need a haircut, but the girls like it this way. It seems that the harder it is to manage, the more they want to run their fingers through it.

             
A knock on the door interrupts me, and I turn just in time to see Whitney walk in and close the door behind her. She smiles as she slowly walks toward me.
Hell, yeah!
Nothing better than a little pre-party sex to get the night started.

She has a mischievous look in her eyes, and I’m ready for whatever she’s got. I’m already hard when
she reaches for my pants. She doesn’t say a word while unzipping and unbuttoning my jeans.

Sli
pping her hands under the waistband and around to my back, she pulls my pants down, letting them slide over my ass and down my thighs. When she pushes me backward onto the bed and goes to her knees, I can’t believe my luck. I lean back and let her do what she came to do. This is one of my favorite things about her.

             
Wrapping my hands in her hair, I lift my hips off the bed, forcing her mouth lower. All I can think about is her hands, her mouth on me. Watching her head bob up and down, I lose control and blow my load. Raising her head, she smiles seductively up at me.

“If you’re a good boy, there is more where that came from.” Great. I’m going to walk around with a hard-on all night, thinking abou
t her mouth.

“I can’t wait.” I like the idea of having a
little something lined up, but there's no mystery, nothing to discover just beneath the surface. Same as always, it’s just too damn easy.

I stand and pull up my pants before
ushering her out the door. This is the first party of the year, and I’m actually anxious to see my brothers who went home for the summer.
I hope like hell she doesn’t think I’m going to be tied to her all night.

The party started while I was upstairs,
and at the bottom of the steps, Whitney and I part ways. Throwing a naughty glance over her shoulder, she walks into the crowd. I gotta give her props; she just rocked my world.

Needing a drink, I walk outside to find the keg. The whole house is packed, and there are several people outside on the deck. I love these nights more than anything. A house full of brothers, hot girls, and beer. What more could a guy ask for?

As soon as
I spot Eric and Declan, I head their way. They’re my boys. We were in the same pledge class, and we went through hell together. Brothers, friends, whatever you want to call it. I’ve got their backs, and they’ve got mine.

They'
re busy gawking at two girls, one who appears to be giving the other a stern lecture on fraternity party etiquette. “Don’t go into any room with a closed door besides the bathroom. Don’t take drinks from anyone. Don’t leave without each other.” They're either freshman or they’ve never been to fraternity party before. Smart girls.

Eric is the first to make a move, “Now, there’s a girl who takes her partying seriously. You’re killing my buzz, and I
haven’t even had anything to drink.”

As soon as he speaks, the
girls turn around. Whoa! They're both hot as hell, and I wouldn’t have a problem taking either of them upstairs with me.

The tall blonde is stunning. Her sundress is short and sexy, revealing long, tan legs underneath. She has an exotic look about her.
The smile that spreads across her face makes it obvious that she already knows Eric.
I should have known she was here for that lucky bastard.

Whe
n I turn to her friend, I stop in my tracks. I realize she's the girl from our psych class, the girl Declan had his eyes on. Her long brown hair flows down her back. She's wearing little to no make-up, and she doesn’t even need it. And even in heels, she's short. There's just something about her that makes me want to unwrap the whole package.

As introductions are made, I can’t take my eyes off
of her. When Eric introduces Declan, she smiles up at him like he’s some kind of damn hero. She has good instincts. But when her eyes land on me, I can almost feel her hesitation.

“I’m Quincy. I think you’re in my class, too.” Ah, sweet, innocent, and a little bit country.
She might be shy, but I see a flicker of interest in her eyes.              

I glance at Declan and see that goofy grin still on his face. I get it.
The blonde is here for Eric, and even though Quincy doesn’t know it, she's here for Declan. That’s enough to stop me in my tracks. I know I could be in her panties by the end of the night, but I won’t do that to Declan. I’m no hero, but I do have some boundaries. I back away, making an exit for the lovebirds.

“Yeah. Nice meeting you guys. Gotta get back to the party.” Even though I know I can’t have her, I kind of smile because she hasn’t taken her eyes off me since our eyes met.

I head inside, hoping to find something stronger than beer. I rake my hand through my hair and decide, right then and there, that I'm going to get totally shitfaced. From the deck, I watch as Jenna and Eric walk away. Declan offers Quincy a drink, but she reaches for bottled water instead. Must be the designated driver. Boy, they make a pair, the two designated drivers hooking up. She looks a little nervous, maybe even anxious, but she follows him anyway.

Ducking inside, I head to the makeshift bar being tended by our pledges. After two Jager shots, I grab a cup of our “signature” punch and down it. That’s a good start.

There's excitement in the air. You can tell it’s the beginning of the semester because the house is full, and people have a certain energy around them. It’s contagious. As I stop to talk to a few brothers, I'm pumped to catch up with everyone. With a few more drinks, I lose track of time. Surprisingly, I haven’t looked at a single chick all night. I glance around and spot Whitney weaving her way through the crowd toward me. She knows I see her, so there is no hiding. I can tell she’s drunk by the way she walks, and her smeared lipstick makes her smile look a little less sexy and a lot more crazy.

“B
rody, I want to dance. Dance with me?” I begin to shake my head, but she interrupts, “Oh, come on. Just one little dance?” It should be illegal for a nineteen year old girl to whine like that. I wish girls knew how much guys really hate it, but I also know which side my bread gets buttered on, so to speak.

“Sure. One dance.” She wraps he
r hands around my arm as we walk inside. I try to pry my arm loose without being obvious, but she’s getting a little clingy. She’s usually pretty cool, but the more she drinks, the worse she gets.

The living room is packed.
Earlier today, we pushed the furniture against the walls, turning it into a dance floor. I'm already buzzing, and the heat is pressing in on me. Whitney pulls me to her and starts dancing against me. Her hips grind into mine, teasing me then pulling away. Except I know this game. It’s no tease. I’ve had her before, and I will again.              

Turning around, she presses her back into me, her ass bumping against m
y pelvis. When she lifts her arm and wraps it around my neck, she pulls my head down toward her, giving me a direct view down her shirt. The whole thing is beginning to feel contrived and instead of turning me on, it’s sort of pissing me off. It’s like she only wanted to dance with me to stake her claim.

I start to push her away when I notice Declan dancing with that girl, Quincy.
She's dancing with her back against him, the way Whitney is me. But somehow, instead of looking desperate, she just looks like she’s having fun. And it’s hot as fuck. When she raises her eyes, they meet mine and every single hormone in my body races into my jeans. Our eyes remain connected as I lower my head and begin kissing Whitney’s shoulder. Quincy’s eyes widen, and I can’t tell if she’s shocked or if she likes the show. Slowly, I lick the side of Whitney’s neck, wishing like hell that I could trade places with Declan.

Suddenly, Quincy turns and stands on her toes to yell something in Declan’s ear, and they move through the crowd and out the door. He lays his hand on her lower b
ack, and for some reason, I don’t like it. Not. One. Bit.

Before I
lose sight of them, Quincy glances back over her shoulder, and our eyes meet again. I hold my breath as I watch her walk away. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she wanted me too. That shouldn’t make me feel as good as it does.

I have no interest in dancing
with Whitney now. Backing away from her, I give her a little nudge and lift my chin toward the door. The party no longer holds my interest. I’m frustrated, and now I have a hard-on to go with it.

Whitney has other ideas. Just as I clear the doorway, I feel her hands wrap around my arm. Resisting the urge to pull away, I grasp her hand and pull her along behind me, through the kitchen, out the
back door, and onto the deck. I’m on a mission. With Whitney on my heels, I head straight for the keg.

“Hey, Brody! Where have you been hiding? I haven’t seen you all night.” One of my fraternity brothers, Seth, claps me on the shoulder while raising his eyebrows in Whitney’s direction. Yeah, he knows exactly what I’ve been up to.

“Just takin’ care of business, my man. Taking care of business.” I smirk as I look around. There are a few girls hanging around, and a couple of them try to catch my eye. I don’t have time to deal with them tonight because I have a drunk Whitney to take care of. Besides, I have all semester to get to know them better.

“Eric brings ‘em in, but damn
ed if they don’t all leave wanting you.” He shakes his head while eyeing two blondes who are smiling in our direction. I barely notice them as I scan the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Quincy. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed when I don’t find her.

“Yeah, well, there is plenty to go around, Seth.” He nods and saunters toward the girls with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. Whitney holds onto my arm, as if she’s afraid I’ll go, too.
How the hell did I read her so wrong?
Maybe I’ve lost my touch. All of a sudden, I just want to be left alone. Instead of taking Whitney upstairs to my room, I turn to her and ask, "Hey, Whit? You got a ride home?" If I hadn't been drinking, I would just take her myself. An instant look of shock registers on her face. She may be drinking, but she's sober enough to understand what I mean.

"I can always stay with you." She runs her hand down my side, a suggestion of what might happen if I
let her. Not happening tonight. Well, at least not again. There’s no way I’m backing down.

"Look, I'm not feeling wel
l. I think I'm just going to call it a night. Maybe tomorrow?" Her face brightens, and I see a way out. Her roommate just walked around the house toward the parking lot.

Wrapping my arm around Whitney’s
waist, I steer her off the deck and around the side of the house, hoping to catch her a ride. "Lexi! Wait!" I'm relieved when she turns around. "Hey, do you mind giving Whit a ride home? I'm not feeling well, and she's ready to go." That isn't necessarily true, but it works.