• • •

As Friday's shift draws to a close, I can see that Navya's totally checked out. Her head's not on the job, her eyes barely skimming the titles of the books she's replacing. In the end, I have to take them off her and put a broom in her hand instead. Her brain doesn't need to be engaged to sweep.

"Hey, you ok?" I ask when I notice she's been sweeping the same square meter of spotless floor for a full minute.

"Hmm? Yeah. Just worried about Gray." She gives me a small shrug and a weak smile. I know she knows everything; Gray explained it all so she'd understand why he's been so put out this week, but I know it's weighing on her mind.

"He's just working through a lot," I say. "He'll be ok, Navya. He just has a lot on his plate that he's trying to cope with."

She nods, her lips pouting in the exact way that I know means she's upset, on the edge of tears. When I offer my arms out for a hug, she accepts without question, letting the broom clatter to the floor. She's so tiny in my arms, short and slight; hugging her is like hugging a child.

"Sorry. I know he's your best friend and your brother and he and I have hardly been together long. I feel selfish, getting upset."

"You're not selfish, you're his girlfriend," I scoff, picking up the broom. "I know how hard it is, seeing him so down, but he's on the come-up."

I really hope so, anyway. The past couple of days, he's been ignoring calls and texts from his mom that I see piling into his cell after another blow-up when she called on Wednesday night. Since then, he's been acting like she doesn't even exist. Almost like before, but there's this undeniable energy in the air. He needs to let off steam, and tonight is the perfect chance for that.

Five hours ago, I had to leave him writing an essay we have due tonight. I gave him all my notes, an arsenal of top resources, and the essay I wrote, but I have no doubt that he could've whipped it out of his ass with no help at all. He probably finished all ten pages in a few hours, with time to edit before the party.

When Liam invited Gray, he accepted without hesitation. He needs this, to put this week behind him. My job is just to make sure he doesn't get too wasted before Navya will be able to sneak out. She's nearly twenty-one. It's ridiculous that she has to sneak anywhere.

"I'm looking forward to tonight," she says, reading my mind. "I'm still not sold on frat boys, but it looks like the one you've found is a decent specimen."

"He's a very decent specimen," I say, crouching to sweep everything on the floor into a dustpan. When I look up, Navya's regarding me with a cocked eyebrow.

"You've examined him a lot, huh?"

I give her my best attempt at a coy smile, but I'm no good at playing along. "To some degree."

"Had him under the microscope, have you?" she asks, and I splutter. I'm not quick enough to come up with a witty retort. "Don't worry," Navya continues, "you know what they say. It's not about the size of the boat but the motion in the ocean." She waves her arms and sways her hips like she's doing a Hawaiian dance.

"God, Navya." I almost drop the pile of dust and debris. "The boat is just fine and the ocean is calm."

"Just waiting for a storm, eh?"

"Navya!"

"You have to tell me everything when the ship comes into dock."

My whole face is hot, though I don't know why. I'm not embarrassed but I wish there was more to say that to sound like an awkward tenth grader when I say that we haven't passed third base yet. We've got close, but there's always some reason not to do it. There's a tiny voice saying Liam doesn't want to go all the way, but I try to smother it.

I throw a book at her. Just a flimsy paperback. I instantly feel bad Not for hitting her, but for throwing a book. Mom would be furious. So would Gray.

"What?" she shrieks. "I told you everything about my first time with Gray!"

She did. More detail that I needed, to be honest. I tut at her. "Because you're obsessed with sex. I didn't ask for a play by play of exactly how and when and where you lost your virginity."

She giggles, her mood turning up, and she races to the door we were supposed to have already locked when Gray comes through. He looks a little better, a little more color in his cheeks, and he's smiling when he pulls away after kissing Navya.

They're adorable together. Thanks to oversharing on both their parts, I have a very clear image of just how well they fit together, and I curse both of them for putting the picture in my head. I shake it out and put the broom back behind the counter, punching out when I see that it's ten fifteen.

"Ready?"

"So ready," he says, pulling away from Navya. "That paper really kicked my ass."

"How was it? Did you get it done?"

He nods, scratching the back of his neck. "Literally just submitted it," he says. He must be able to read my mind as I wonder why it took him so much longer than usual because he adds, "I would've been done hours ago if my mom hadn't kept texting."

Navya's face falls. "Did you talk to her babe?" she asks, somehow making the nickname sound sweet.

"I told her to leave me alone. Then she called, left a couple messages. I told her to delete my number from her phone like she deleted me from her life."

"Damn," Navya murmurs. "Are you ok? How'd she take it?"

Gray shrugs. "She cried. Said she's sorry and she wants to see me and she wants me to be a part of her life. Apparently, I need a mom and she wants another chance."

"Screw that!" Navya cries, vocalizing my thoughts. "I hope you told her to piss off."

He sort of nods and pulls her against him, pressing his lips to her temple. I've seen Tad do the same with my mom. Like father, like son. Thank God he's nothing like his mom.

"I told her I don't need her," he says. "I may have told her that my new mom's a million times better. She needn't know that Dad and Jen aren't married yet." He gives me a warm smile. "I'm fine, I promise. I'm just ready to drink my sorrows away."

Navya swats him but she's smiling when she pulls him in for a kiss. "Don't have too much fun without me."

"You'll be there before you know it," he says. "Or come with us. Tell your parents you're pulling an all-nighter at the library."

"I wish. Dad would come over to check on me, probably," she says with a snort. "I'll be there for midnight so save some of your sorrows for me."

He kisses her, murmurs something in her ear, and looks up at me. "Shall we?"

• • •

I feel good when we walk into the frat house, having changed into a dress that shows off my boobs and accentuates my curves rather than clinging to my lumps. It's a new one that Mom gave me yesterday, something when she went thrifting on her lunch break.

It's perfect. The navy blue fabric is flecked with black shimmer, the faintest hint of glitter, and the skirt flares past my hips, making my waist look smaller. Under it, I'm wearing my nicest underwear, the only matching set I own. The silky purple bra gives me a ridiculous cleavage without strangling me with my own breasts, and my tights suck me in all the way to my ribs.

"Have I told you lately that you're stunning?" Gray's fingers brush the skirt of my dress, purplish panels hidden in the pleats. "Like, off the scale. Off any of my scales. Liam's gonna die when he sees you."

"You think?" I ask, though that was the plan. I want to blow Liam away. As soon as w walk into the party, one of the brothers looks me up and down and lets out a low whistle.

"Looking good, Sovany," he says as he passes us with an empty cup. "Your boy's in there. Try not to give him a heart attack."

I'm getting used to the frat guys. At first, they either looked past me or saw me as a piece of meat. Several tried to get me alone, to persuade me upstairs. They seemed skeptical after Liam and I got together, but now they almost seem to respect me.

Except they all call me Sovany. Some part of that weird guy mentality, I guess, that everyone has to be referred to by their last name. Some shorten it to So, as though I'm supposed to instinctively know that's me when they yell it across a room.

My eyes lock onto Liam. He hasn't seen me yet but one of his friends does and I see him do a double take, hear him mutter, "Shit, So's not playing."

Liam looks up at that. He sees me. His jaw drops; his eyes light up. He peels away from his friends to meet me, draping his arms around my waist. "Holy shit," he says, his breath warm on my lips. "You look incredible."

He tilts my chin back with a crooked finger. It's a long, possessive kiss. A couple of guys cheer. One yells at us to get a room. There are a few comments I wouldn't repeat. Gray laughs and heads off to find something a drink after clapping Liam on the back.

"You," Liam murmurs, so quietly I can barely hear him over the music thrumming through my veins, "are the most beautiful girl."

I wait for him to finish. There's no quantifier. Not the most beautiful girl he knows, or the most beautiful girl in the room. Just the most beautiful girl. Clasping my hands at the nape of his neck, I pull him down to kiss me again.

When I feel a hand on my butt, I assume it's his, until he cups my cheeks and the hand stays. I freeze. Liam pulls away. He sees my expression, sees whoever's behind me, and before I know it a fight is about to break out.

"Get your hand off my girlfriend." His voice is low and icy. I feel awkward, standing behind him and wishing Gray had waited a minute before going to get drinks.

The guy raises his hands and laughs. "Dude, chill. I'm just messing around."

Liam's expression hardens. "Just messing around? Did Storie ask you to touch her? Did she want you to? I don't fucking think so. So get the fuck out before I report you."

I don't think I've ever heard him swear. At least, not when he's mad. But the guy is unfazed. I vaguely recognize him but I don't know if it's because we share a class or I've just seen him around. "Chill, man. It's all cool. It was just a joke."

"It's not cool, and it wasn't funny." Liam's voice is almost a hiss. The guy rolls his eyes and turns away, as though all this is done, and he yelps when Liam grabs his arm and marches him out of the house.

It all happens so fast, I don't know what to do but I'm shaken. While they're gone, Gray returns as though nothing happened with a couple of cups in his hand. He passes me one and says, "I got you Sprite."

I take the cup. My hand is shaking a bit. It doesn't escape Gray's notice. When he asks what's wrong, I tell him what he missed and his eyes darken with rage. I sip my Sprite but it's a little too sweet, not quite what I'm after.

"Want to try this?" He watches me take a tentative sip. "It's vodka orange. Just a double shot of vodka and the rest is orange juice."

It tastes good. The orange almost masks the vodka but I still get a strange, sharp hit. When I take another sip, Gray nods over at the makeshift bar across the room.

"Keep that. I'll make another," he says. "Don't move." He keeps an eye on me as he goes off in search of a drink and Liam returns, slipping his arm around me. I used to feel so self-conscious when he did that, like he wouldn't realize I'm fat until he felt it, but now I love having his arms around me as though he can't get enough of me.

"I'm so sorry about that, Stor," he murmurs, slightly swaying me in time to the music. "Are you ok?"

"It was just a shock," I say.

"Well, he's gone now. Asshole."

"Isn't he one of your brothers?"

"Doesn't make it ok to grab your ass," Liam says, frowning at me. "You're not, like, fair game just because we're dating. This is a frat, not a brothel."

I lean into him and swig my drink. "Thanks for sticking up for me."

"Always," he says kissing me slowly like we're the only ones in the room. Gray returns as we pull apart and he nudges Liam.

"Some of your friends are asswipes, you know," he says, gulping his drink down as though it's plain old juice. I realize I'm already half done with mine. It's surprisingly drinkable.

"That jerk isn't my friend," Liam says. "We don't tolerate shit like that."

"Really?" Gray cocks an eyebrow. "I thought frats were a hive of sexual misconduct."

"Not here," Liam says. "Zero tolerance. If you screw up, you're out. We've seen what happens when people get away with being assholes. It's not ok."

I think about everything Navya told me, about the guys who died and the ones who went to prison, all the awful statistics that plague Greek life. I wonder if things changed when too many girls suffered at the hands of the brothers, or when two of the boys died.

"You don't need to kick him out," I say. "He didn't really do anything." Liam gives me a funny look and I squirm when I say, "It wasn't as bad as what Davis did."

I hate saying it. We've already put that to bed. But it's true. Davis made me feel so much worse, and he's still here. He made me fear for my life; this guy just drunkenly touched my butt. Liam's face falls.

"Storie, I..."

"It's fine. I'm not saying you should kick Davis out," I clarify, "but you shouldn't have double standards just because he was your friend then, or because I'm your girlfriend now." I squeeze his hand so he knows I'm not mad. "Ok?"

He nods. "Ok. And I am so sorry, Storie. I wish there was anything I could do to make up for being such a fucking idiot back then."

I hold up my hand to stop him. "You already apologized; I already forgave you. It's ok. I only brought it up to make that point. It's in the past," I say. I can't hold onto something after I've forgiven him for it. It wouldn't be fair.

• • •

It's nearly midnight. I've lost count of how many times I've refilled my cup and downed another drink, my mind slowly loosening, and I've also lost Gray. I've kept an eye on him all this time, aware that he's had a hell of a week and he loves a drink, but now I can't see him. I need to find him. Navya just texted me: her dad caught her sneaking out and she can't come anymore.

Considering Gray's disappeared and is probably wasted, that might be for the best.

I catch a guy he was playing beer pong with ten minutes ago, and I yell over the music to ask where he went. The guy shrugs, sloshing his drink on the carpet.

"Asian dude, right?" He sounds drunk, looks it too. "I think he went upstairs. He was pretty wasted. Maybe he's getting lucky?"

No. Navya's not here. I squeeze my way through the crowded basement and make it to the door with a gasp, hurrying upstairs. It's mostly quiet away from the party, except for a gaggle of girls coming back from the bathroom. I hear yelling outside and spy Annika and Davis. Maybe she's finally done with him. More likely just one of their fights.

Gray is nowhere to be seen on the first floor. I check every single room, walking in on a couple of overly intimate scenes, until I get to Liam's room and I hear a voice. Of course. I should have checked here first.

Gray is on the floor, his back against Liam's bed, with his phone clutched to his ear. Tears are leaking down his cheeks. He sniffs. His voice is thick when he talks.

"You made your choice," he snivels. "It didn't include me. You rejected me and I wanted to die." He chokes on a sob and my heart breaks. "I hate that you made me hate you. You were my mom and I loved you but you're not my mom anymore and I hate you."

He's drunk. Too drunk to have this conversation. I sit next to him and try to pry the phone out of his hand but he holds on fast, leaning away from me and shaking his head. He nearly drops the drink he's holding, and he's tripping over his words, muddled by his tears.

"You made me feel like nothing when you left, and I felt like less than nothing when I saw you again," he says, really crying now as he clutches the phone to his ear. I can't bear it but when I try to wrestle the cell away from him, he cries out and wrenches himself away from me. "You win," he says, to the phone rather than me. "You're never going to see me again."

"Gray, please!" I cry out, eventually getting hold of his phone and ending the call before I can take him by the shoulders. He's an absolute mess. I feel awful. "Gray..."

I was supposed to keep an eye on him but I didn't and now he's a mess, crying his eyes out in a damp shirt where he spilled his drink. When I touch him, he breaks down even more, alcohol fueling his emotions. He sinks against me, sobbing his heart out until his tears soak through my dress, dampening my skin.

"You're ok," I say, on the edge of tears myself. I can't bear to see him like this. I thought things were getting better. "You don't need her."

His sobs are gut-wrenching, shaking me to the core when in a breaking voice, he says, "I feel so bad."

"You don't need to. She's a bad mom. Don't feel bad for telling her."

He shakes his head. "No, no. I feel bad about myself. She makes me feel like shit," he says. The word cuts me. Gray never swears. "I'm just a stupid mistake she wishes she never made and now she has the family she wanted."

"Don't say that," I say, crying now. "It's not true. Your mom's just an idiot who doesn't know what's good for her. You're the best thing to ever happen to me. You're my best friend." I hold him when he tries to stand and he drops back down. He's had way too much. It's all my fault.

"You're my best friend too," he says with a sniff. "I never had a best friend before you." He wipes his red eyes. "I never had a good mom before Jen. I love your mom."

"She loves you too."

"I wish she was my mom. She's the best. You're so lucky."

"She's gonna be your step-mom. That's nearly as good," I say, and he nods, taking a shaky breath. "And hey, your dad loves you more than enough to make up for your crappy mom."

He nods again. "My dad's awesome. I love him so much. I don't tell him enough. He's the best dad. I'm a bad son."

"Don't you dare say that." I surprise myself with the edge in my voice, which makes Gray sit straighter. "You're just going through a blip right now, but we all love you."

His phone rings. When I see that it's his mom, I make sure he can't grab it, and I let it ring out. "You're not talking to her. Not when she makes you feel like this."

A moment later, as the call rings out and the phone buzzes with a new voicemail, it dies. It's probably for the best.

We sit there for a silent forever. It's probably only thirty minutes but it feels like forever before Gray says, "I don't feel good."

"I know."

"No, I feel sick." He lurches to his feet, swaying as he stumbles down the hall with me hanging off his arm. He doesn't care how filthy the communal bathroom is when he drops to his kneels, grips the toilet seat, and heaves into the bowl.

I crouch next to him, my hand on his back as he throws up and cries from the effort. I can't bear the smell or the sight, so I just focus on comforting him. With each heave, his shoulders tense beneath my hand and he whimpers with pain. I hate this, but I'm not going anywhere. Tonight's going to be a long night.

• • •