Wicked (Somerset University #2) - Ruby Vincent Page 0,31

front door was cracked open.

Frowning, I edged closer, placed my hand on the door and pushed. It swung open and snagged on something. A t-shirt.

“Hello?” I stepped over the clothes strewn in the hall. “Chandler? Ty?”

I rounded the corner. “Sere—”

Wow. Living the life of young rockers is right.

The living room was a disaster area. Cigarette butts, bongs, traces of white powder covered the table. The white rug was stained with brown beer stains and ground-in chips.

The entire room reeked of sex and I put it down to the occupants. Ty and Chandler conked out on the couch, sandwiched between a naked guy and three naked girls, one of them Serena.

I cleared my throat. “Do you guys always leave the door wide open?”

Chandler tossed his head, face scrunched up.

“It’s a pretty safe neighborhood but you shouldn’t go tempting thieves.”

“Wha...?” Chandler blinked blearily at me. The lipstick smears on his five o’clock shadow warped with his frown. All of a sudden, his eyes bugged out. “Jaxson!”

“Get dressed and be outside in twenty minutes,” I said calmly. “You have a television interview.”

“We do? But— But—” Chandler shot up and knocked one of the women to the floor.

Serena wasn’t happy.

“What the fuck, Chandler?” She smacked his leg. “What’s your problem?”

“Serena, we have to get dressed,” he cried. “Ty! Wake up.”

I stepped back just as she caught sight of me. She faced me, not bothering to cover up her attributes. “Jaxson,” she said, lips curving into a grin. “You missed a fun party last night. You should join us next time.”

“Serena!” Chandler hissed. He tripped over his feet trying to get his pants on.

“Nope,” I replied. “But thanks for the offer. Twenty minutes or Rylan does the interview on his own.”

“Interview?” she repeated.

I walked out.

Rylan was still in the car mumbling to himself. I left him to it and relaxed in the seat to wait. The other guys stumbled out of the house with three minutes to spare. Impressively, they didn’t wear the activities of the night before. Chandler was fresh and clean-cut. Serena was effortlessly gorgeous in a sheer lace dress and black boots. They slid inside and swamped the space with cologne and perfume.

Chandler stuck his head between me and Rylan. “Jaxson, we’re sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Serena snapped. “We’re adults. Fucking older than him. We can do what we want.”

“We were just blowing off steam,” he went on, ignoring her. “I promise we take this seriously. If we knew about the interview, we would have been ready.”

“Dad snagged it for you last minute,” I said. “You’ll be on the Morning Melody show in forty-five minutes if we make it on time.”

“Are you serious? Fucking fantastic.”

“Let’s go over what you’re going to say on the drive.” I was skating right past what I walked in on. Serena was right, it was none of my business and I didn’t care anyway. The only thing that mattered was them smashing the interview and building buzz for the new album.

They clearly agreed because their attention shifted fully to the interview.

“What do you think they’ll ask?”

“Why us?”

“Are we going to make it? Drive, Jaxson. Drive!” This was from Serena, of course, but this time I was fine to comply with her orders.

I pulled out onto the road, riding the high of their excitement. Times like this I remembered why I put up with the early mornings, late nights, and abuse. I was a part of something most people watched from the sidelines.

Partway through, I turned on one of their tracks and we belted out the lyrics.

“Is it obnoxious singing to your own music?” Rylan asked, laughing.

“Yeah,” I said, “but I won’t tell if you don’t.”

We cracked up and sang even louder.

VALENTINA

“So that’s our new house mother,” Sofia said out of the corner of her mouth. “She’s not what I expected.”

I had to agree. The two of us peeked on her through the living room’s gossamer curtains. Jade Ortega was not the rosy-cheeked, beaming older woman with a twinkle in her eye that I pictured. The real Jade Ortega was a willowy, young thirty-something with shoulder-length dusky waves and cheekbones you could cut yourself on.

She and Mrs. Kessler were deep in conversation on the front lawn. Today was the day she moved in and we picked the new president of Zeta Rho Sigma.

“Ready for today?” she asked.

I sighed. “As ready as I can be. A good number of sisters agree with me and the changes I want to make, but even more are being cagey. I don’t know how this’ll