“Oh really? Then maybe you could explain why I've been the one in his arms each and every night.” Olivia's eyes narrowed and I could practically see the steam coming from her ears. She inched forward and I worried for a second that she'd hit me.

“You are nothing but a man-stealing bitch. I can't believe we didn't see it when we gave you our bid.” I couldn't help but flinch. I hated that anyone saw me that way. There was that huge part of me that wanted to be liked, no matter what. Scratch below the surface and I was just a girl who cared what people thought of her. I liked being popular. I liked being in a sorority full of ready-made friends. I didn't like knowing that the image I was so proud of had become completely tarnished.

And the whole thing was more than a little unfair, if you ask me. Because the way these girls looked at it, I had maliciously and with calculation gone after a sister's boyfriend behind her back. If Olivia only knew how horrible and guilt ridden I had felt and how much I had resisted. But there was no point in trying to explain it. It didn't matter. She would never believe me. It was like every Jerry Springer episode I had ever seen. The “other woman” was always the one at fault.

I blinked, taken aback by the blatant loathing on Olivia's face. I didn't want this to hurt so much. But damned if it didn't. Olivia put her hand on her hip and leaned into me. Her lips peeled back from her teeth in a hateful grin.

“But like it or not, Maysie, Jordan and I have a bond you can never get rid of. We have a past. A history. We have loved each other faithfully for three years. Sure he's into you now...but where do you think he'll end up when he's grown tired of the Maysie Ardin tramp show?” She smoothed her hair down, affecting disinterest. She seemed so calm and collected and I knew she truly believed her words. She had no doubt that she and Jordan would end up together. And her conviction started to sway even me.

She flicked her blue eyes back at me before turning to leave the bathroom. “He'll always come back to me. Because that's where he belongs.” Then without another word, she slung her purse over her shoulder and left the bathroom. Milla curled her lip in disgust and followed her. Talia flicked her hair back and gave me a fake smile before leaving. And I was left standing there, feeling like a complete idiot.

I was mortified that I had sunk to that level. I had just become “that girl.” The nasty, tear another chick's hair out, you-were-looking-at-my-man, kind of girl. I hated those girls but damned if I hadn't morphed into one. Just call up and get me a seat on Maury. Because that's where I was headed. So not only had I gone all territorial over a flipping guy, but I had also just rubbed my “sister's” face in the fact that I was currently dating said guy, her very recent ex-boyfriend. It was like tap dancing on someone's grave. It wasn't right. What happened to chicks before dicks? Oh that's right, Jordan Levitt happened. Jordan and his beautiful face and his stupid hot tattoo and piercings. I grumbled at my foolishness. Then I just became depressed.

I forgot about scrubbing the rest of the stamp off of my hand and headed back to Riley and Damien. “What took you so long? I thought one of the bikers had eaten you,” Riley quipped as I sat back down. I gave her a wane smile and she frowned at me.

“What's wrong?” she asked, cutting straight to the point.

I opened my mouth to answer her when the lights dimmed and a guy announced Generation Rejects. The spot lights shown on the stage and Cole grabbed the mic, growling low. The crowd pushed its way to the front and I could see Milla, Talia and Olivia at the foot of the stage. I had to admit, Olivia looked hot in her tiny black dress, her hair falling perfectly down her back. I hadn't really taken stock of her get up while we were shooting eyeball daggers at each other in the bathroom. But now, looking at her with her perfect little body and effortless beauty, I felt kind of slutty in my outfit.

The band launched into one of their many covers and the place went wild. I tore my eyes from my sorority sisters at the front of the pack and tried to focus on the four guys on stage. Because they were good. Damn good and I couldn't deny the raw magnetism they exuded. Cole was a looker alright and he played front man with aplomb. His dark, shaggy hair and five o'clock shadow were sexy as hell. Mitch and Garrett weren't hard to look at either. Mitch had the whole dark and mysterious thing going on while Garrett was the wild man of the group, bouncing to the music and wagging his tongue suggestively at the girls in the crowd. But it was the drummer who maintained the heartbeat of the music. It was impossible to look anywhere but at him.

Jordan wore a collared button down white shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Very Patrick Dempsey in Can't Buy Me Love. Retro and hot. His face glistened with sweat as he beat the hell out of his drums. His transformation into rock god was fascinating. It was so complete and total that it was hard to imagine him as anything else. It was like he lived and breathed the music he played.

I allowed myself to get lost in their performance. I loved seeing Jordan like this. His passion was evident, even from this distance. I wanted to push myself forward and dance with the rest of the people here. But I didn't want to deal with Miss Too Tight Dress and her cronies, so I stayed where I was. I couldn't stop myself from watching her watch him. She obviously knew the set well, singing along to most of the songs. She looked the part of the rock star's girlfriend, whereas I looked like a child playing dress up in my stupid leather skirt and trying too hard boots.

About thirty minutes into their set, Cole addressed the crowd. “Now we'd like to take it down a notch. This next song was written by the resident sex god himself, Jordan Levitt!” The crowd roared and my stomach clenched tightly. I had almost allowed myself to forget the bits of the conversation I had overheard in the bathroom. The part about the song. The one Jordan had written for Olivia. Fuck.