I could barely see the outline of a small figure. It was a chick. I could also smell her perfume, so unless one of the Tide players had decided to go Coco Chanel on our asses, it was definitely a female.

Inching closer along the blackened edges of the room, I tried my best to be silent. Whoever it was couldn’t scream and reveal where we were, I had to make sure of it. The last thing I needed was the dean questioning me about the drugs. The f**ker already thought I was responsible for the cocaine on campus. Whenever there’d been trouble here in UA over the past three years, he’d always put the blame on me. Only this time, he was right.

The chick was panting heavily, unmoving against the shut door. Blinking my eyes, trying to focus, I reached out and accidently touched her arm. The chick began to shriek, so gripping her shoulder, I turned her around, slamming my hand over her mouth to muffle her scream.

Legs began kicking and her hands smacked at my arms. Placing my mouth at her ear, I whispered, “Hush, bitch! I ain’t gonna hurt you. Just stop f**kin’ screaming!”

Her legs quit flailing and her hand grabbed my wrist, trying to wrench it from her mouth. I needed to make sure she wasn’t gonna scream no more. I couldn’t let her go until I was sure she wouldn’t cause a damn scene.

“I’ll move my hand from your mouth when I’m sure you’re not gonna draw their attention. Okay?” I said in a hushed tone, trying my best to sound non-threatening. But I wasn’t stupid. Some guy muffling a chick in a dark summerhouse wasn’t exactly gonna scream safe. Warm hard breaths flowed from her nostrils as she tried to calm, and her nails that were stabbing into my skin slackened some.

“Good. Now on the count of three, I’ll move my hand. Just remember, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m hiding out here too. You give your word you won’t scream?” I asked.

Soft hair rubbed at the bare skin of my neck as she nodded her head in agreement, releasing a small agreeable whimper.

“Okay, one… two… three…” I said quietly and slowly removed my hand. The chick took a deep breath, stepping away, and turned around to face me. Even in the darkness, I could see a pair of huge pale-green eyes, almost turquoise, peering up at me.

Shit. I knew those eyes.

Was haunted by those eyes.

The chick, on sensing my reaction, stepped closer still. A light blared outside, creeping in from the gap under the door, creating a dull yellow glow in the summerhouse. From this close distance, I could make out her face. It was her, and by her startled reaction, I knew she had realized it was me.

“A-Austin?” she stuttered in question. She didn’t seem happy about my presence. Good, because I wasn’t exactly happy about hers. “I-I didn’t know you’d be in here. I just didn’t want to be questioned by the dean again. Saw this place and decided to hide out until it was over. I-I’m sorry. I’ll leave… I—”

Bypassing where she stood, and ignoring her stumbling, terrified apology, I silently made my way to the couch and sat down. This was all I f**kin’ needed.

From my peripheral vision, I could see she was still standing at the door, rocking on her feet, clearly uncomfortable and probably considering taking her chances out there with the dean after all.

Sighing, I waved my hand in her direction. “You’d better take a seat. The dean won’t be quick about this. You need to stay away from that bastard for all our sakes. So I’m afraid you have no other alternative than to wait this out with me in here.”

Like some cartoon character, her head went from me to the door and back again, to the door and back once more.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you. Hell, I won’t even f**kin’ talk to you if that helps,” I told her sharply and focused my eyes on the wooden coffee table before me, the moon through the skylight acting like a spotlight right above where I was sitting.

Hearing heels clicking on the wooden floor, I knew she’d chosen to stay.

Good. She wasn’t stupid, then.

The couch dipped beside me, and she sat on the edge of the sofa like she was at some Swiss finishing school, knees pressed together and her back ramrod straight. This time I huffed a reluctant laugh, and her head turned in my direction.

“What?” she whispered, a little venom in her tiny Bama voice.

My eyebrows rose in surprise at her attitude. She’d always been so meek the other times I’d seen her. Tonight she was showing some f**kin’ fire.

I twisted around to face her, my left arm lying across the back cushion of the couch. “You look like you’ve got a damn pole jammed up your ass sitting like that.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock, and I nearly laughed out loud as she eyed me weird, then slowly leaned back against the cushion, clearly trying to relax.

We then went back to silence, and it was as uncomfortable as f**k.

Suddenly, dogs began barking outside. I launched from the couch, ran to the window, and pulled back the curtain about an inch so I could see the frat’s yard.

“Shit,” I spat at what I was seeing.

“What is it? What are they looking for?” the chick asked from the couch.

I didn’t answer, too busy watching a student I didn’t know being cuffed and hauled away by the cops. The dean was walking along the line of students, asking questions, while another cop held up a white packet the student had been packing.

Fuck. I recognized the brand. It was the Heighters’ product.

SHIT!

The tread of quiet feet sounded on the floor behind me. “Austin, what’re they looking for? I’m freaking out here!”