The Scammer(41)

She shakes her head and I’m too desperate for food to turn down the offer. I rush into the ballroom, straight to the platters, most of them untouched as waiters walk around with appetizers and mocktails.

The moment I walk in, Nick spots me, but doesn’t acknowledge. He goes on chatting with the adults.

I pick up a small plate and pile it with grapes, strawberries, and a few chunks of cheese. Maybe I should sneak plates back for Loren and Kammy. Vanessa doesn’t seem to mind our new diet. Probably used to it.

I catch a whiff of his scent before a hand squeezes around my forearm. My plate of cheese and grapes falls on the floor, scattering away, as I’m yanked and dragged into the hallway.

Devonte. He’s out of place in his jeans and T-shirt. His locs aren’t even tied back. He leans inches from my face, nails digging into my arms. How did he know I was here? Who told him?

“This isn’t a party,” I whimper, scrambling to explain. “It’s a mixer for the board members. No one’s even drinking!”

Devonte grumbles. “After all I’ve done. All I sacrificed . . . for YOU. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Devonte . . . it isn’t what you think. This is for student government.”

“Don’t you think what we’re doing, what we’re trying to accomplish, is more important than this shit? Don’t you—”

“Hey, hi. I don’t believe we’ve met, formally.”

Devonte drops my arm, stepping back. I’m too in shock to fully realize that Nick has slid in between us.

“I’m Nick. School of Arts and Sciences president.”

Devonte scowls at his extended hand in disgust. He doesn’t take it. Doesn’t even answer him.

“Okayyyy,” Nick says, with a chuckle. “So, are you a student here? What’s your major? We have all kinds of alum in there.”

Devonte narrows his eyes at him before switching his glare to me. Nick is nothing but an invisible wall.

“Uh, Jordyn. You think you can help me with the gift bags? I don’t want to have security help with them instead. They’re just LOOKING for something to do.”

Devonte heard the inflammatory word: security. He may have security at the dorm wrapped around his finger, but not here on the main campus. He stares at me with a smug smile and shakes his head.

“See you later,” he hisses.

We watch him stroll off in the same lazy, unbothered pace he always walks, bouncing down the steps.

Once he’s out of sight, Nick turns to me, eyes flaring. “What the hell was that about?”

“Nothing!” I insist, my voice squeaking, lip quivering.

“Nothing? What was he doing grabbing you like that? In front of everyone? Did he hurt you?”

For a change, I can’t fight back the tears from the humiliation. My eyes swell, and I bite my lips to hold in a sob.

Nick straightens and quickly springs into action, leading me down the stairs and into the back FUSA office. He closes the door, so we’re alone, and offers me a box of tissues. I plop on the desk, hot tears dripping into my lap.

Nick faces me, hands in his pockets, his expression softening.

“Jordyn,” he begins. “If you’re in trouble . . . if he’s abusing you . . .”

I wave him off. “He’s not my boyfriend. I’m not in an abusive relationship.”

“You sure? Because, Jordyn . . . I’ve seen guys like this. It doesn’t . . . end well.”

Why does it feel like he’s begging me to believe him?

“What do you mean, ‘guys like this’?”

“Older guys . . . who are trying to take advantage of . . . younger girls.”

I sniff and in an instant, my defenses go up.

“You mean young STUPID girls, right?”

His mouth gapes. “No, I don’t think you’re stupid at all. Anyone could be taken advantage of!”

I slam down the tissue box. “Seriously . . . can we NOT do this? I’m fine.”

“You’re not FINE! This isn’t FINE!”

I hold up a hand with a sharp nod, closing my eyes to regain composure. “Nick, I need you to mind your own business. Everything is under control. I can handle this myself.”

Nick is struggling with the words. “Jordyn, this is . . . fucked up. You know it is.”

He’s right. But I can’t let him know that. So much more is at stake, and I can’t risk him involving himself.

“Good night, Nick. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I run out of the Malcolm Center, heading back to the dorm, letting the tears fall.



* * *




Music thumps out of Vanessa’s room as I run into the suite, heading straight into the bathroom. Tears mixing with the little makeup I wore have created a sad drip painting down my face.

I have to quit FUSA. I can’t risk another run-in and public embarrassment.

Outside the thin bathroom door are more strangers, sitting among Devonte’s other fans in our tiny living room. With all these people, why did Devonte have to come and find me tonight? Doesn’t he have others to worry about? Where are Kammy and Loren?

As I toss my tissue in the trash, I spot medicine bottles and tiny jars at the bottom of the bin. My heart sinks. I grab them and burst out of the bathroom.