I Hate You - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,44

as tall as they are. “I’m sick and you’re taking me to the bathroom. Remember freshman year and that dance club we wanted to get into—do that, got it? Go with it!”

My head falls down to my chest and I force out a retching sound. It’s loud and gross. I have my brothers to thank for that—I’ve heard them barf plenty of times.

The crowd moves as Margo and Penelope support me, pushing through the people and carrying me straight to the front where ID Girl is at a podium, a little clipboard and earphones in her ear. Shit, they’re miked. Super cool. She’s talking into her headpiece as a guy in a Kappa Sig shirt stands there waiting, annoyance on his face.

“Girls! Get in line with everyone else!” she yells.

Penelope’s words run together. “She needs a restroom stat, please, plus we’re not twenty-one, don’t need a band, ’kay? Gotta go!”

“I’m gonna puke!” I call out in a Southern accent.

“Gross!” someone shouts as I make myself gag. People jerk away, some muttering and pushing closer to the podium to put distance between us.

Headpiece Barbie looks at us and frowns as the Kappa Sig gets a frustrated look on his face and pushes his ID at her.

She tightens her lips and looks down at the long line of people waiting to get in. I feel her gaze on us and push forward, dragging Pen and Margo with me as I mumble, “Move it, girls. Don’t give her time to say no.”

“Just come back when you’re done, and let me check your ID! I’m keeping a tally so we don’t break fire code,” she calls as we make our way down a hallway and then come to a stop a few feet away and out of her sight.

I straighten up and laugh, fixing my hair. “Works every time. It’s like telling a guy you got your period.”

We chuckle as we leave the hallway and walk through the crowded den. Masked people roam everywhere, wall-to-wall students. God. I needed this night out. It’s been three days since the talk with Blaze at the library, yet I can’t get his words out of my head.

Pfft. He said I have walls up, but his are bigger than I ever imagined.

Forget him.

“Let’s check out the bar,” I say, and we brush past co-eds, loud music drifting up to our ears from their party room in the basement. They have a DJ. Margo won’t be happy.

I chance a look, and she’s scowling behind her mask, her eyes bouncing over the black balloons and streamers, the banner on the wall displaying their Greek letters. She curses, her hands clenched.

“Madame President, let it go! Alcohol!” I say with my fist raised. “Let it be so!”

“Fine!” Margo blazes a path for us until we reach the makeshift bar set up on a granite-top island in the spacious kitchen. Shiiiit. They’ve redone their house, and the space is airy and bright with sparkling stainless steel appliances and pretty white cabinets.

The bartender, a handsome fellow in a Theta shirt—boyfriend to some collegian, I assume—leans in.

“I need to see your bands if you want a drink.”

Margo pouts. “We lost them.”

“True story,” Penelope adds. “Some girl grabbed all three when we were in the restroom. You know how those underage kids are.” She makes a tsking noise and shakes her head.

“Uh-huh.” He arches a brow. “Move along now. Go back and get some new ones.”

I push them aside and look up at him. I know him from one of my design classes, Theo something.

“Look, Theo, we have an upper level design class together with Mrs. Owens. She’s a real ballbuster, right? I still haven’t done that website design she wants us to do.” I give him a big smile, my red lips curving up. Tonight the color is Red Hot. “Please, have some sympathy for us. Besides, it was nerdy Chi-Os who stole our bracelets. They’re probably drinking all your good alcohol right now. Bitches.”

Margo elbows me.

He grins. “I ain’t got a thing against Chi-Os. Sorry, can’t serve you.”

I lean down farther until my cleavage is more visible. “Sure, but come on, you know me. I’m of age. You even got an A on that last font project. Sharp and original. I dig your use of bold color. I want to be like you.”

He cocks his head. “Yeah, that was a good one.”

“Spectacular! Give us some drinks…please.” I smile.

His gaze brushes over my face and lingers on my breasts before coming back up. “Ah, I