The Scammer(58)

Twenty




It’s comical watching the Kappas prep for one of their parties. They slowly take turns loading liquor, cups, and bags of ice into the house, pushing their rickety furniture against walls, and setting up the DJ equipment. Nick is good for keeping things relatively organized. I offer to help and they put me on cleaning duty. Which I guess is warranted. Around eight p.m. people start trickling in, mostly other Kappas who don’t live in the house. By ten, the living room is packed.

I stand in the corner, empty cup in hand, tinkering with my phone, looking out of place, making it painfully obvious that I’m there with no one. Being alone with no friends should be a familiar feeling by now. But at a party, the longing can’t be ignored. I had something special once, the shadow of it still lingering in my hand. But if I can convince Kammy, then Loren, of who Devonte really is . . . we can have all of that again.

“Hey Jordyn.”

I almost jump out of my skin until I see Neveah standing beside me.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Girl, working homecoming was a full-time job!” She shakes her head, laughing. “But it was fun! I definitely want to do it again next year. And you stopped coming to our study group.”

“Oh. Yeah. Things just been . . . crazy.”

“Well, you better pop back in before finals,” she says with a grin. “Okay, question! Have you thought about running for office next year?”

I cough up a laugh. “You mean, like an official position?”

“Yeah! I heard you’re good with budgets. You should run for treasurer!”

“Really? I don’t know if anyone would vote for me.”

“Why not! Folks know you. Anyway, girl, think about it. I’mma go find my man!”

“Okay. Uh . . . thanks!”

Neveah waves, heading deeper into the house. Butterflies tickle my insides. She thinks I’m good enough to run for office? That people know me? I hope she isn’t just making small talk . . . because I would love to be an officer.

That’s if I’m still here next year. . . .

Across the room, I see Nick making his way through the crowd, his eyes locked on me. And for a moment, I forget that he’s not my real boyfriend, that he’s not really into me. But the way his eyes are peeling off my top, it’s hard to keep track of the truth.

“Hey you,” he says.

Nick threads his fingers through mine and pulls me close.

“Hey you,” I mumble.

He sniffs my neck and I shiver, a smile creeping across his face. This feels too natural. Too organic. Too damn good.

“You look really pretty,” he whispers.

I chuckle, glancing down at my plain jeans and simple black shirt.

“Uhhh . . . are you drunk?”

He shakes his head. “A little. I’ve cut back since that whole drugging fiasco.”

I almost forgot about that. If that cup was meant for me, what would’ve happened if I drank it? What would have happened if I was unconscious in the suite?

“Hey,” Nick says, studying my face, and sobers up. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just . . . tired.”

He nods, pulling me closer. “Want to call it a night?”

“But you’re having a party.”

He shrugs. “It’s fine. Besides, it’ll look like we’re hooking up. That we can’t get enough of each other. Plays well into the story.”

Is that what’s happening right now? We’re just playing?

I blink and manage to say, “Uh, yeah. Right. Good idea.”

Someone needs to drill it into my head that this is all a charade. But what happens when the charade is over? How exactly do we plan on going back to the way things were. And how am I going to— “POLICE! NOBODY MOVE!”

Nick’s eyes flare as he spins around, pushing me behind him. I let out a laugh. I always wondered why the police haven’t shown up to break up parties the Kappas threw.

But as I look at the door, I realize this wasn’t just two officers checking out a noise complaint. It’s an army of plainclothes, wearing bulletproof vests, guns drawn, storming in the house. Chaos erupts. Nick never lets go of my hand.

“Yo, what’s going on?” one of Nick’s frat brothers shouts. “Neighbors call or something?”

“We have a warrant,” the cocky officer sings, waving a piece of paper around in the air.

“For what?” Nick snaps, snatching the paper, and I read over his shoulder.

“Distribution of controlled substances.”

Drugs?

“What the fuck?” one of the frat brothers barks, while the others put their hands up, slowly dropping to the floor. An automatic response to cops that Nick doesn’t have.

“Wait, hang on!” Nick shouts, trying to stop the unnecessary pat downs. “Where are you getting this intel from? You can’t search without probable cause.”

The cop smirks at Nick, slapping the warrant against his chest. “We got an anonymous tip.”

My stomach hits the floor.

Devonte.





Twenty-One




There’s lots of yelling coming from the first floor.

I pace in Nick’s room, turned inside out after the police investigation, resisting the urge to run downstairs after all the times he’s saved me. But I don’t think my presence is going to ease tensions when I’m the one that’s started all this.