Free Pulse (Contemporary new adult/college romance) (Club Grit Trilogy) by Brooke Jaxsen Page B

about...that.”
    “No, no, it’s whatever. Just some bouncer, you know?”
    “Yeah, I know.” Again, a lie. It wasn’t just some bouncer, it was Skylar. The same Skylar who was now furiously buzzing my phone. It had taken him long enough: where were these texts when I was, #idk, actually interested in dating him? The texts were all the same.
    We need to talk. I get why you slapped me but please, come down.
    Emma, you can’t go out to see DeAndre.
    Emma, it’s Skylar, if you’re getting this, please answer, we need to talk, and talk-talk, not like the coffee shop.
    Emma, don’t leave.
    Emma, come back inside.
    EMMA. WHERE R U?
    EMMA.
    EMMA. HE DID IT.
    EMMA PLEASE.
    Too little, too late. Skylar had his chance to date me, for real. He’d gone out with me at the coffee shop and hadn’t asked me for a second date, instead, telling me to stay away. He hadn’t cared then, so why did he care now? He didn’t like drama, so why was he putting himself between Club Grit and Omega Mu Gamma, the two most unstoppable forces in all of Beverly Hills?
    I stopped looking the messages, opening up Candy Crush instead while DeAndre drank and talked about how Club Grit was for losers. Wasn’t my problem, it was just annoying that nobody else was out here yet, because there wasn’t a reason for me to go back in, knowing that I couldn’t make Skylar jealous and that Kim would think I hadn’t taken my job of comforting DeAndre seriously, when right now, it seemed like DeAndre, who was going off about being a nice guy and a man’s rights, sounded like he needed a therapist more than a woman’s touch.
    As I made matches of jelly beans, chocolates, and other tasties, making jellies and cages disappear, I kept seeing the stupid alerts from Skylar, text after text. I was half tempted to just turn off my phone, or of sending him a mean text, but I would get bored if I didn’t have something to play while DeAndre kept talking and worked on his now second bottle of beer.
    And then his third.
    I’d believed DeAndre when he said that we were going to meet up with his friend who had just arrived at the club and Samantha outside the club. I believed it when he said that they’d just texted him and would be five more minutes, even though my own phone hadn’t rung. The limo was empty except for us. The driver had left but I guess the door had been opened for him beforehand. I should have known something was up.
    When he wanted to make out some more to pass the time, that was fine, but I just found myself counting the seconds until hopefully, I’d see Samantha coming in the rearview window or in the side mirrors. Ten, nine, eight...I’d reach one, and look for an object in the mirror, but she was farther than I thought. Just not there at all.
    There’d been something weird about DeAndre since the moment I met him. It was the kind of feeling I usually got from guys that were creepy or weird, but he was suave, charismatic. He wasn’t the kind of guy that could really be a rapist, right?
    So I had to ask him.
    “Is it true what those guys said, that you raped someone?”
    “No, that girl was fucked up, don’t worry,” he said.
    “What?” I didn’t really get it at all. DeAndre had more to drink than me that night and two drunk as fuck people didn’t really equal a combo for conversational success.
    “Listen, she was a bitch, but you’re not, okay?” He pulled me back in to make out some more. I could taste the sharpness of the alcohol on his tongue. He’d gone for shots of hard liquor, I’d gone for sweet girly drinks to wipe away the taste of pills, and I wanted to pull away, but at the same time, knew that I had to make this right for Kim. She’d been the one who’d had me come out to the limo in the first place.
    “Stop, please,” I said gently, pushing his hand away.
    “Why, you on your period or something?” Of course that was the first thing he thought of. Of course.
    “No, I just don’t want to,” I said, and as