Текст книги "Wolf Bait"
Автор книги: Nina West
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Chapter Three
The farther into Wolf Cove Hotel I venture, the more enchanted I become.
Standing at the shoreline, the main lodge serves as a centerpiece, an enormous rustic building constructed of thick timbers and stone, but adorned with balconies and chandeliers, and entire walls made of glass, giving it an opulent feel. Crushed granite paths lit with coach lights lead guests past the boat docks and water sports equipment—more kayaks and canoes and paddle boats than I’ve ever seen. On the left side of the lodge are three cabins modeled after the main building, each one set high up on the rocks, shrouded by trees and adorned with balconies overlooking the water. John said those are the penthouse suites.
On the right are gardens to sit and ponder in, and beyond them are signs leading to Wolf Cove’s own hiking trails. Miles of Alaskan wilderness to explore, according to the pamphlet.
I push through a heavy set of glass doors and revel in the warmth and smell of cedar in the grand lobby, offering a young woman who passes by me a nod and a smile. She returns it, zipping up her jacket before heading outside.
I’ve never been one to have a lot of friends. Just a few, really, mainly through church groups and study groups. The problem is they’ve all been “our” friends and now that Jed and I aren’t together, I’m acutely aware of something missing when I see them.
So I’ve isolated myself from them over the past few months, staying in my dorm room, focusing on my studies. Most of them don’t even know that I’m up here.
I’ll make new friends here, I assure myself. Ones who know nothing about me, about my life back home. It’s kind of refreshing, getting to be whoever I want to be. That’s what I told myself this summer would be about. Answering to no one, including Mama. Not concerning myself with what people will think, or what they’ll say, or weighing all my words and thoughts and decisions based on what would be considered appropriate by Jesus, the Reverend Enderbey, and my mama.
I’ve spent far too much time worrying about those things. Look where it has gotten me? Alone, while the guy I’ve loved for years is having, I’m sure, copious amounts of sex.
It’s past nine in the evening now, and a few people mill around. The e-mail sent out last week says that I’m supposed to report to the main lodge check-in upon arrival, so I head toward the expansive and chic rustic desk, made of timber logs. A woman stands behind it, her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her.
Not until I’ve approached do I see her name badge. It’s Belinda, the woman I spoke with on the phone.
I smile. “Hi, Belinda.” My mama taught me to always use a person’s name when you can.
She looks up, her sharp gaze peering out from behind stylish red-framed glasses. I wish I had the guts to buy a pair of glasses like those. “Name, please?”
I remind myself that she probably spoke to hundreds of employees. She’s not going to remember me. “Abbi Mitchell.”
“Oh. Yes.” She does a quick once-over of my bulky coat and what I’m sure is wild hair—wind and braids never play nice—before settling on my face. What is that I see flicker across her expression? Annoyance? Dislike? It vanishes too quickly for me to identify it. “You left me a message about missing the orientation session, didn’t you?”
“Yes, that was me. My flight was delayed.”
“Okay. Give me a minute.” I use my shirt sleeve to clean the mist from my glasses as she pulls my file up, her nails tapping against the keyboard. “Okay, here we go. Abigail Mitchell.”
“It’s Abbi.”
She flashes me a tight smile, such a contradiction to her soft, seductive voice. She’s stunningly beautiful—her makeup flawless, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulder in movie-star smooth waves—but she’s dressed inappropriately, in a tight black dress that barely covers her butt, her fingernails blood red and clawlike. My mama would turn her nose up at associating with this woman, and remind me never to dress like this if I want any respect. “Right. Welcome to Wolf Cove, Abbi.”
I grin. “Thank you. It’s beautiful here.”
“Uh huh. So, Abbi, I see here that you were hired for Housekeeping and Guest Services.”
“What?” I blurt. “No. Outdoor,” I correct her.
“Well, it doesn’t say that here. See?” She taps the screen with her nail. All of my information—my home address, social security number, even my picture—is there, as well as a line that, sure enough, reads position applied for “Housekeeping and Guest Services.”
“That’s got to be a mistake. When we spoke on the phone, you confirmed Outdoor.” I can’t spend the summer cleaning toilets. And bed sheets! I’ll go crazy.
She frowns. At least, I think she frowns. Her forehead doesn’t actually wrinkle. “A mistake like that would be a first for us.”
“Well, can you fix it?” I’m mildly panicked now.
“I’ll look into it.” She doesn’t sound at all concerned. “For now, please stand over there so we can take your picture.”
I stifle my groan as I follow her direction and stand in front of a digital camera with a white screen set behind me.
“Smile,” she says as the flash goes off, catching me off guard, taking what I’m sure is a horrible image. “Okay, here’s your orientation package. Training begins tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. in the grand ballroom.” She reaches behind the desk and hands me a canvas tote bag. “Inside you’ll find all kinds of useful things like our employee guidelines handbook, information about the hotel and what our guests will expect of service; a complimentary bottle of bug spray, though the main guest areas are equipped with magnets to deal with them. A pocket-sized flashlight and a can of bear spray.” She must see the flash of panic on my face because she quickly adds, “Don’t worry; you won’t need that within the main gates. The perimeter’s wired with electric fencing. We want our guests to enjoy Alaska’s wildlife through guided tours, not find it waiting for them as they step out the lodge doors.”
I give a nervous laugh. “Okay. Good.” I know the state has plenty of black and brown bears, but I didn’t think I’d have to worry about them here.
“And here.” Her fingers are clicking furiously on her screen again and then, with a jangle of her key chain, she’s unlocking a drawer and handing me an iPad and headset. “There’s an orientation video loaded up on here. It has everything on it that you missed tonight. You can return the iPad to me here, tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“And if you hurry, you can still grab a bite to eat in the staff lodge. Go out these doors,” her hand gestures to the left, “and follow the signs for the village.”
“Great. Is that where I can make calls home?” I sent a quick text from Homer to let my parents know I landed, but my mama will be calling the front desk if I don’t send exact coordinates for where she can find me should she need to.
“Yes. The bandwidth isn’t enough for streaming videos, but you’ll be able to do basic things like send e-mails and messages, check Facebook, that sort of thing.” Belinda pulls the freshly printed card out of the printer and, after swiping it across a machine, sets it on the counter along with a lanyard and two other cards. “You need to wear your employee card at all times. This card is for the cafeteria.” She taps the blue one. “Food is greatly subsidized for staff, and it’s a no-cash system, so you can load money onto it or ask that a portion of your salary be garnered for it.”
“Just like campus.”
“Yup. And this other card gets you into your cabin. You’re in cabin seven. The others are already here.”
“How many others are there?”
“Six per cabin.”
I let that news sink in. I haven’t had a roommate since my first week of freshman year. That was a short-lived disaster. When I phoned my mama to tell her that the girl locked me out so she could smoke pot and have sex with her boyfriend, Mama quickly forked over another two thousand dollars and I snagged one of the last available private rooms. We’re not poor, but my parents like to live frugally.
Either way, neither Mama nor her bank account will fix a problem with a shitty roommate here.
Or five shitty roommates, potentially.
I smile wide, another trick I’ve learned. The worse the situation, the bigger my smile needs to be. My face hurts from all the smiling I’ve done these past few months. “Okay, great. Thank you so much.”
“I’m the hotel manager. You will be reporting in to Paige Warhill for the housekeeping department. But, if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.” That doesn’t sound genuine.
Slinging my hiker’s backpack over my shoulders, I remind her, “You’ll look into my position, right?”
She’s already typing away on the computer, her eyes on the screen. “Yes. Definitely.”
~ ~ ~ ~
“Jed came home today.”
“That’s great.” No matter how hard I try to remove him from my daily—heck, hourly—thoughts, Mama’s always good for reminding me. She was probably watching for his arrival since noon. We can see the Enderbeys’s front porch from our kitchen window.
“Have you talked to him lately?”
“No.” Not for nearly two months. For a while there, we kept in regular contact. That’s what he wanted, to stay close friends. Ever since he started dating her though, we’ve been incommunicado.
“Well, he brought that trollop along with him. Can you believe that? I don’t understand what he sees in her.”
“What?” The word comes out like a hiss, the news a swift kick to my stomach, even all the way up in Alaska. I hadn’t expected it so soon. Jed has officially brought her into our world. Into the place of our childhood, where we’d lie in the grass and decide what the clouds were shaped like, where we nursed an abandoned kitten back to health. We’ve lived next to Jed and his family for as long as I can remember. Jed and I used to swing on the tire tied to the oak tree and catch toads in the pond between our properties when we were little.
“But let’s not worry too much. Reverend Enderbey thinks that a few days with his family and her together will prove to him that she doesn’t belong in our lives.”
Our lives.
I squeeze my eyes shut and will this nauseating churn in my stomach to go away. I don’t want to talk, or think, or cry over Jed anymore. “I’m in cabin seven, if there’s an emergency. I already sent you all the other information. Remember, I won’t be carrying my cell phone around with me. It doesn’t work well here, anyway.”
“I don’t like not being able to get hold of you when I need to, Abigail,” she says in her typical stern voice. There is no other tone with her, even when she’s happy. Right now, I’m guessing she’s sitting at the harvest table in our kitchen, her floral robe stretched over her 370 pound body, enjoying her coffee. The woman drinks coffee late into the night and then complains that she can’t fall asleep.
“I’m going to be fine.” As long as you stop giving me updates about my ex and his new girlfriend.
“Are you safe there?”
“Yes. They have security and cameras and, honestly, I don’t think anyone is going to pay twelve hundred dollars a night to commit crimes.”
“Rich people make for immoral people.”
I roll my eyes, but only because she can’t see me. She’d wallop me if she knew. For someone so forgiving of Jed, she sure is judgmental of everyone else.
“Do they have plumbing, at least?”
I gaze around the place and burst out with laughter. It’s a log building with a cafeteria-style dining section on one side and several sectional couches on the other, with a mammoth two-sided stone fireplace situated in the center, the fire burning within giving off considerable heat. Beyond swinging doors in the back, I can hear dishes and cutlery clattering, and the occasional laugh. While there aren’t crystal chandeliers, it’s beyond simply “nice.” “Yes, they have plumbing.”
“Don’t you be laughing at my concern for you,” Mama scolds. “Are they feeding you well?”
I push the pan-seared chicken around on my plate. I’m not sure what the sauce is but it’s delicious, as are the mashed potatoes and string beans. Then again, I’m not picky when it comes to food and I have a healthy appetite. Thank God I also have my father’s high metabolism, otherwise I’d likely be waddling out of here by August. “I’m going to eat better here than all year on campus. I’ve gotta go now. I haven’t even made it to my cabin yet.”
“Are there a lot of people working there?” she asks, ignoring my attempt at a dismissal.
“Yes. Quite a few.” The staff lodge looks like it could accommodate a hundred people. According to the video I just watched, Wolf Cove Hotel—an adults-only getaway—has fifty guest rooms and three penthouse cabins available, so it’s not nearly as big as a typical Wolf hotel. Apparently the one down in LA can accommodate 1,500 guests.
“What kind of people are there? Do any of them look like good Christians?”
“Yeah, they look like Jed.”
“Abigail Margaret Mitchell. Are you gettin’ smart with me?”
I sigh. “It feels like being at school. Everyone’s young.” And attractive, from what I’ve seen so far. I guess that makes sense though. A high-end hotel that’s focused on aesthetics would extend that focus to what their staff looks like, right or wrong. “Mostly female.”
“That’s good.” I hear the relief in her voice. I know what she’s thinking. An all-female staff would be the best way to preserve Abbi’s virtue for marriage. I don’t know how many uncomfortable birds and bees and “wait until you’re married” and “you’ll get pregnant if he touches you” lectures I’ve had from my mama. The only reason she allowed me to go away to school is because it’s a Christian college, Jed was going, and the Reverend’s son can do no wrong in my parents’ eyes.
Even though my eyes saw exactly the wrong he can do, firsthand.
“Okay.” She sighs. “Remember that your father and I love you, and...” There’s a long pause. “If this trip is what you need, then we support you.”
I can almost hear her teeth grinding as she forces those words out. But I don’t call her on it. I don’t tell her that I’m old enough to make my own decisions without her approval. If giving it helps her sleep at night, so be it.
“Just don’t forget who you are, and how you’ve been raised. And no alcohol. Look what happened when Jed got mixed up in that stuff.”
That’s one of their excuses for what happened. Alcohol. Parties.
A.k.a. the devil.
“It’s late. You best be goin’ to bed now. And text Jed. Let him know you’re safe. I’m sure he’d like to hear from you.”
I have no intention of texting him now, knowing that she’s there. “Right. Gotta go. Love you, Mama.” I hang up and sigh.
“People been doin’ that all day long,” a voice says beside me.
I look over. A guy with dark skin and a cropped haircut wipes the table behind me, the chain that dangles from his pocket slapping against the wood. “Doing what? Telling their parents that they love them?”
“Sighing with relief as soon as they hang up. Though the ‘I love you’ is sweet.”
I chuckle. “If their mamas are like my mama, then I believe it about the sighing.”
He works on a spot of ketchup, his tattoos prominently displayed on his forearm. “Name’s Miguel.”
I offer him a polite smile. “I’m Abbi.”
“Where you from, Abbi?”
“Pennsylvania, originally. Going to school in Chicago.”
He takes a break from wiping to stand up straight. His chocolate eyes wander over the area. “Another beautiful college girl.”
I blush at the compliment, though I don’t know how valid it is. While I don’t think I’m a complete troll, I’ve spent many years wishing away my dull ginger hair for blonde, my owlish hazel eyes for blue, and natural D-sized breasts for Bs, so it doesn’t hurt so much when I run.
They say every girl battles self-doubt, feeling ugly or fat or undesirable. I never really did, because I always knew I was desirable to Jed. He told me so regularly.
But everything has changed. I’m becoming more and more self-conscious, more unsatisfied with myself.
“Where do you live, Miguel?”
“San Jose.”
“Wow. That’s a long way to travel for a job.”
“And it’s damn cold up here, too.” He emphasizes the temperature change by shuddering, making me laugh.
“What made you come here to work then?”
“Me and my cousin are line cooks for the Wolf San Diego. This job came up and we were lookin’ for something new. An experience, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” I stack my dishes onto my tray.
“And you can’t beat the money. But,” he chuckles as he continues wiping, “not sure this Mexican can handle remote wilderness and lack of basic communication with the outside world. It’s a good thing they got me working the staff lodge where the Wi-Fi is. I may go loco otherwise.” He collects my dirty plates for me. “Listen, anything you want, my sweet Abbi, you call my name and I’ll hook you up.”
“Thanks, Miguel.”
He winks and then leaves with a slight swagger, the rag over his shoulder, humming to himself. He’s obviously flirting with me, but it’s the kind of casual flirting that I’ll bet he’s done with every female he’s come across so far today. I’ll bet there are plenty of sweet Saras and sweet Jennifers.
He’s a good-looking guy, though too wiry and short for my taste, and I don’t much care for tattoos. Still, it feels good, the attention, given where my confidence has sunk to over the past few months.
I like the classic tall, dark, and handsome. Jed fit that mold, in my eyes, anyway. And I had his eyes without fail, too. They were glued to me. To my face, to my chest, to my ass. Just because we were choosing the parent-approved route of saving ourselves for marriage didn’t mean we didn’t suffer from normal teenager hormones.
He’s palmed my breasts more times than I can count, playing with my erect nipples until they were sore. I wrapped my fist around his erection plenty, too. Only, it was always through his clothes. That was our rule—pants stayed on at all times. He came up with that rule. He said he wouldn’t be able to control himself otherwise, and honestly I wasn’t sure I would be able to either.
You can do a lot of things with clothes on. I loved teasing him, and I used to do so mercilessly, up until last summer when I teased him so much that he got mad and decided to teach me a lesson. That’s why, in the barn behind my house, he held me down by my wrists, pressed himself between my legs and ground against me until I was begging him to take my pants off and touch me.
The perfect time for my father and the farmhand to walk in.
That Sunday at church, Jed’s father gave a full-hour sermon on the sins of the flesh. Mama began prepping for a shotgun wedding, assuming I’d be delivering news of a future grandchild any day, even though I’ve been on birth control to help alleviate terrible menstrual cramps since I was seventeen. Boy, was getting her to agree to me on birth control a battle. My cries of pain were what finally softened her resolution.
Since last summer, we were both more considerate of each other, and maybe a little more careful, realizing exactly how wound up we could get. How easy it would be to ignore everything we’ve been taught to value and give in to human desires.
Jed ended up throwing it away anyway, only with someone else.
It’s not until a tear lands on the iPad screen that I realize I’m sitting here in the staff lodge in Alaska, still crying over Jed. I give my eyes an angry rub and then, collecting my backpack and tote bag, head for cabin seven.
Chapter Four
The staff accommodations remind me of summer camp, with small rectangular cabins lined up in rows and narrow pathways weaving among them. There are at least fifteen, from what I can see.
I make my way toward cabin seven, where a faint glow of light fills the windows. Laughter explodes the moment I open the door.
“Hey!” The closest woman comes forward with a grin. She reaches for my tote bag with her free hand. Her other one is gripping a silver flask. “Someone’s late to the party!”
I feel my face growing red, never one for overt attention. “My plane was delayed.”
She grins wide, showing me a beautiful set of white teeth. She’s extremely pretty, her pixie-cut hair framing her delicate features nicely. “No worries. I’m Autumn. You and I are bunkmates. Hope you don’t mind being on the bottom.”
“Not at all. I’m Abbi.”
“You’re going to get to know us all really well, and really fast.”
“I see that.” I do a quick scan of the cabin. Three sets of twin bunkbeds, one on each wall, and a tiny powder room opposite me. I’m not sure how six women are going to handle being in here together, but I guess we’ll manage.
Autumn waves a hand around the space. “Abbi, everyone. Everyone, Abbi.”
I nervously make the rounds as the others take turns introducing themselves to me. All of them look to be in their midtwenties. In the bunkbed kitty-corner to us are Rachel and Katie—two giggly bottle-blondes from Tampa. Across from us, a brunette named Lorraine from Oregon is lying on the top with a magazine in hand. A stunning redhead from Atlanta named Tillie sits on the bottom. Her hair is a vibrant, deep orangey red instead of my flat, boring shade; a color I’ve wished for since I was twelve. And her voice... I could listen to her accent all day long.
“We have to share a dresser. We each get two drawers and can split the middle one with our unmentionables. I took the top because I’m so tall. I hope you don’t mind,” Autumn says with a sheepish smile. She’s sweet. And she is tall. She must have at least five inches on me.
“I don’t mind at all.” I toss my backpack onto the floor, glad to have finally reached my bed. “What’s this?” I ask, reaching for the thick black material hanging against the wall.
“Privacy curtains.” Autumn yanks on it and the curtain flies across the track, around the bunkbed, closing us off from the others.
“Like a hospital.” I guess some privacy is better than none.
“Yeah. Sort of.” She giggles, tucking strands of cinnamon hair behind her ear. She throws the curtain back, until we’re a part of the group again. “The toilet’s there, and the showers are three buildings over, to the left. Thank God, because at five in the morning, it’s a cold walk.” She shudders. “At least they gave us robes.”
“Any guesses on what Autumn was hired for?” Lorraine asks.
“Wilderness guide?” I guess, and everyone laughs.
“Close. Concierge. Trust me, you don’t want me as a wilderness guide. Everyone would get eaten.”
“Well, I for one am not leaving the confines of this beautiful property, so no one’s gonna be eatin’ this southern girl,” Tillie purrs.
“Except maybe the big bad wolf,” Autumn mocks, and they all explode with laughter. It must be an inside joke. Great. A few hours late and I’m already an outsider.
Autumn reaches out to grab my arm. “Have you seen him yet?”
I frown, confused. “Who? The big bad wolf?”
She laughs. “Henry Wolf, the owner.”
Oh. I chuckle and shake my head.
Her eyes widen knowingly. “Just you wait. There isn’t a warm-blooded female here who wouldn’t spread her legs for that man’s tongue.”
My cheeks flush. Not that I haven’t wondered what it would feel like to have a man—Jed—go down on me. I don’t understand how I’ll ever psych myself up to allowing it. I can’t even touch myself without knowing that I’ll feel sinful once my climax has come and gone. I clear my throat. “So the owner’s here?” I never bothered to read up on the Wolf family, more interested in Alaska and the hotel itself.
“I saw him step out of his helicopter yesterday morning.”
“You think you saw him,” Rachel corrects.
“Oh, believe me, there’s no mistaking that man.” Autumn takes a swig from her flask. “He spoke at my grad ceremony two years ago. I guarantee you every woman’s panties were soaked through by the end of it. Maybe a few men’s, too.”
Another round of laughter. I can feel my face turning red at the crassness of their conversation. Not that I don’t think these things, or feel these things. I’ve just been taught never to discuss them openly like this. And my circle of friends at school doesn’t talk like that either.
But if I’m going to be living and working with these ladies for the next few months, I probably should start getting used to this now.
I keep my hands busy and my eyes down as I unpack my backpack, filling the two bottom drawers with clothes for both warm and cold weather, while the girls discuss the owner.
“The exposé on him in Forbes says he made his first million when he was sixteen, on some stock investment.”
“That’s a crock. He was already born a millionaire. His grandparents owned an Alaskan gold mine.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t earn that. It was handed to him.”
“I heard this property was given to him.”
“And his brother.”
“No, apparently it was all willed to him! Can you imagine the family feud over that?”
“It’s not like his brother hasn’t gotten enough. Well, maybe not yet. Their dad is still alive so he still technically owns this hotel.”
“Do you know who he’s dating? That Victoria’s Secret model. What is her name? The one on the cover of the holiday edition.”
“No. They broke up. She caught him in bed with two of her friends.”
“So that means he’s fair game.”
“I heard he’s super rigid and law-abiding, like his father. Honorable to a fault.”
“No way. Word around the Wolf is that he’s an arrogant, controlling prick who fucks women and then ditches them.”
“A guy like that must go through women like underwear.”
“I’ll gladly be his underwear.”
I listen to the back-and-forth chatter as I line my few basic toiletries up on top of the dresser. I unwrap the picture I brought of Mama and Dad and set it on the dresser, too. It’s my favorite one of them, back when they were in high school, and she was trim enough that Dad could easily wrap his arms around her waist. They got married as soon as she finished high school, my mama graduating two years after my dad. I came along almost nine months to the day after their wedding.
I leave the picture of Jed and me in the bottom of my duffel bag. The one that I’ve thrown into the trash and then fished out at least a dozen times, the pathetic, emotional part of me unable to let go. We’re sitting back-to-back on a bale of hay during the parade at the festival last summer, both smiling wide at the camera, happy as can be.
The only things I have left to put away are my bras, panties, and socks. They’ll have to go in our shared drawer. I hope Autumn doesn’t mind.
I slide open the drawer and stifle a gasp.
“I used a piece of cardboard to separate the space. You know, so we don’t end up wearing each other’s panties,” Autumn says.
“Great. Thanks,” I force out, my face burning as I study the long green dildo tucked into the side. When is she planning on using that? I could never bring myself to buy one, let alone bring it into a cabin with five other women!
I quickly empty the rest of my things out and slide the drawer shut, in case she forgot to hide it.
“So, is everyone getting together in the staff lodge tonight?” Tillie asks, watching herself in the mirror as she drags a scarlet lipstick over her bottom lip. I tried red lipstick on once, while getting dressed for Halloween, only to scrub it off minutes later. I looked like a clown. Tilly doesn’t, though. She looks sultry.
“Yeah. May as well enjoy the fun now before they work us to the bone.” Lorraine slides off her bunk and exchanges her magazine for a flask from the top drawer. I guess I missed the flask memo.
“Oh, please. I heard the massage therapists work six-hour shifts, max,” Tillie scolds.
Lorraine wiggles her hands in the air. “My precious hands need rest.”
“Those precious hands of yours better be giving my body a deep tissue massage after a long day of answering rich people’s stupid questions,” Autumn says, topping up her flask from a bottle of vodka. How much has she had? Is she always this friendly, or is she drunk? “Hey, Abbi, where’ll you be working?”
“I’m supposed to be doing Outdoor, but they put me in Housekeeping.”
“Oh, that’s where I am! We can go to the training session tomorrow morning together. Us redheads need to stick together.” Tillie’s obviously happy about this. I hate to burst her bubble and tell her that I’m being transferred as soon as Belinda sorts things out, so I keep quiet and simply smile.
“That Outdoor crew is a bunch of male pervs, anyway. They all stood behind the yoga team this morning and watched them walk through their sessions,” Rachel warns, peeling her shirt off. Katie follows suit. “We’re gonna grab a quick shower. We’ll meet you there, okay?”
“Sure thing. Hey, Abbi. You’re coming, right?” Autumn zips up her vest.
I’m exhausted. I’ve barely slept in the last two weeks, thanks to finals and nervousness over this trip. Fear of the unknown. Normally, I’d curl up in bed with a good book and read until I drift off. I even loaded my e-reader with about fifty novels to get me through four months of summer nights and off-work hours.
They’re all drinking, obviously, and not bothering to hide it. Back at college, people would have get-togethers, but they were tame and kept undercover as compared to what I’ve heard happens on other campuses.
This is all new to me.
But I want to have fun. Plus, it’s the best way to keep my mind off Jed and her in Greenbank.
“Sure. Yes.” They’re the kind of girls I never hung out with in school, though sometimes I wondered what it’d be like, to be their friends; to be a part of the “in crowd.”
“Great! The alcohol in the lodge is the only thing not subsidized, and it’s super expensive, so you’ll want to bring your own,” Autumn warns, adding, “Unless you’re made of money.”
I bite my tongue before I admit to them that I don’t drink. That I’ve never been drunk before in my life.
“Here. We can share until you can get to Homer to stock up next week.” Tillie thrusts her flask in my hand.
What if I refuse? Will I be buying myself a ticket to loser town with them?
This feels like high school all over again.
“Hey, can you guys save us seats on that couch by the fire?” Rachel asks. She hooks her thumbs under her panties and pulls them until they drop to the ground. Both she and Katie stand front and center in the room, buck naked, seemingly without a care in the world.
On our campus, girls changed before heading to the shared bathrooms, and they covered themselves with towels.
