Smash into You Read online

  Time to refocus my attention away from hot guys like Cole that would only pulverize my heart. Been there, done that. Right now, I needed a distraction from all the confusing thoughts regarding Cole Prescott swirling in my head.

  Standing, I moved away from the window and set up my easel and paints. I mixed the colors, then painted the moon. When I paint, it’s like revealing a bit of my soul. Colors and strokes conveyed my feelings when words failed. Deep-seated subconscious thoughts spring to life on the canvas, like a way of connecting with my true inner-self. And usually, I was always surprised by what I created.

  Across the way stood sorority row and I had a clear view of the Zeta Beta house. I caught sight of a young woman, super thin with refined features, smooth skin, and chestnut-colored hair that fell in a tumble of ringlets around her shoulders, sitting near a window and reading. The booklover wore a loose racerback tank with pajama bottoms and seemed entranced by the pages of the book she held.

  Another girl swooped into the room and seized the novel from her hands. The taller, darker-haired girl gripped the reader by the wrists and pulled her onto the bed. There she joined one more girl, laughing and talking. The tallest handed out fancy glasses filled with a crimson liquid.

  They were drinking alcohol right there in their room. Smiling and chatting and sipping wine in the candlelight as if the rules didn’t apply to them. Not the select few privileged enough to be living in the sororities and using semi-private bathrooms. Those three sorority girls seemed so much older—although they obviously weren’t much older than me—but every move they made appeared gracious and confident. The whole scene created a huge lump in my throat and only reminded me that I was alone in the world now.

  I set down my paintbrush and moved closer to the window.

  One girl had piled her brown hair atop her head in a messy bun and she wore a red silk robe over a lacy camisole. She was gorgeous, and pale with a lithe, willowy figure. The taller girl wore cute PJs and fuzzy slippers. She shook her thick mane back and took a sip of wine. The waiflike girl with chestnut hair stood and moved to the window. Suddenly, the girl froze with narrowed eyes. My heart caught. She was staring right at me.

  Heat flushed through my cheeks, and I quickly turned away. When I had the courage to glance out the window again, she held the curtains with both hands, still watching me.

  Like this wasn’t getting awkward or anything.

  For a moment, neither of us moved. Then she sneered and snatched the curtains closed tight.

  Geez. What a great way to make a creepy first impression with the one sorority I wanted to pledge. The same one my mom had joined when she’d gone to college here. I’d moved hundreds of miles away to start over and I’d already made an ass of myself.

  SORORITY 411

  Walking across campus, I zipped up my leather jacket against the chill winds. Part of the plan to reinvent myself and cash in on my dad’s offer to live abroad was finding a way to step out of my comfort zone. My dad would want proof that I was trying, so I needed to put some major effort into socializing again.

  And I wanted so badly to spend the summer in Paris and study art that I could taste the desperation on my tongue like sour candy. I figured the easiest and quickest way to go from social leper to well-adjusted college coed was to join a sorority. It was a win-win: get new friends, social acceptance, and make my dad happy. How hard could it be?

  I’d never been a member of any all-girls-only groups before, so I didn’t know much about pledging. Lucky for me, Vanessa knew someone who did, a girl who was also in Stevenson Hall with us.

  I took a steady breath and asked, “What can you tell me about the sororities around here?”

  “The only one that matters is Zeta Beta, but they’re extremely selective. All pledges have to meet certain requirements to even get considered for recruitment,” Raven Hamilton said, pointing at the biggest mansion on sorority row.

  Vanessa, Raven, and I made our way across campus to the cafeteria. The afternoon sunlight slanting through the trees dabbled the cement pathway with yellow speckles.

  “Like what? Endure a few weeks of hazing?” I asked, opening the cafeteria door.

  Without answering, Raven shouldered past Vanessa like a queen entering her court. Vanessa and I followed and joined Raven in the food line.

  The scent of Eau de School, a mixture of fried foods and mingled fragrances overwhelmed my senses. We shuffled forward with our trays, Vanessa smiling at the yummy selection of food. I took in the room with its dull beige walls and crowded tables. A couple of students donned pajamas with various degrees of bedhead and five students in trendy clubbing attire seemed hung over, but the majority of people wore normal college garb: jeans, shorts, and wrinkled T-shirts.

  “What’s the big deal? Besides midnight wake up calls to sing the pledge song and dashes across campus in my underwear? That’s a no-brainer to pull off,” I said

  “It’s not just getting through recruitment, you also need to have either academic or athletic excellence,” Raven said in a nasally voice. “If you meet their requirements as a potential, you get a bid. It’s a formal invitation from the president of the sorority.” She gave me a long look from head-to-toe. One that said, someone like you will never get one.

  I’d just met Raven, heiress to the Hamilton Cosmetics fortune, through Vanessa this morning and already I felt like throttling her. Raven had auburn hair cropped in a severe chin-length bob and a voluptuous figure that she’d squeezed into a Betsey Johnson dress that appeared one size too small. She stood a foot shorter than me, with a piglike nose, and freckles dotting her arms and legs. Apparently, Vanessa and Raven had been friends at boarding school and their families knew each other.

  “What type of requirements?” I asked.

  “Most girls have to be an integral part of the community to even be considered by the Zeta Betas,” Raven said. “You know, like the deb’ sort.”

  She said it in a snotty way like I wouldn’t know what a debutante was. Sheesh, what a beeeyatch.

  Vanessa adjusted her glasses. “Why are you suddenly so interested in joining a sorority?”

  I shrugged with forced casualness. “I’m not suddenly interested. I never had a chance to pledge at my old school and I feel like I missed a great opportunity.”

  “You don’t actually seem like the…” Raven made air quotes with her fingers as she added, “Sorority girl type.”

  Raven was getting on my nerves. Maybe I just felt irritable because I’d skipped breakfast this morning and had low blood sugar, but what she said pissed me off. Just because I was focused on art didn’t mean I followed any particular social “movement.” I crossed my arms over my chest and silently grumbled. While I didn’t typically hang out with super tan girls with fake boobs, or ones who wore sweatpants with words printed on their ass while they flashed bedazzled iPhone covers, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be friends with them.

  And I liked being me. I was an artsy girl with ink-stained fingers who saw the world through dark-rimmed glasses. What was so wrong with that?

  It didn’t mean I couldn’t pledge a sorority like any other girl on campus. And I loved a challenge. I was not only going to get a bid—I would survive recruitment and win over the Zeta Betas—for nerdy, artsy girls everywhere!

  “Well, I am now,” I said, as if daring anyone to challenge my motives. “And I really hate the whole stereotyping thing.”

  Raven shrugged, and Vanessa made her food selections. I pushed my tray forward, grabbing a sandwich, a soda, and a bag of chips.

  “Levi thinks Greek life is for hacks who can’t handle the difficulties of college,” Vanessa said, playing with one of her braids. “He has this strict no-fraternity-pledging policy.” Today she’d dressed in a nerdy-hip style: fuzzy striped sweater with a denim skater skirt and a pair of brown oxfords. Her pink polka-dotted tights added a surprise pop of color to the outfit.

  “Are you always this stupid or are you making a special effort today, V
anessa?” Raven rolled her eyes. “Joining Zeta Beta would be life changing—not to mention—you could dump a nerd like Levi once you had access to those yummy fraternity guys.”

  Vanessa turned beet red under her makeup. “I-I like geeks.”

  I balled up my fists. “That’s a little harsh, Raven.”

  Raven glanced at me with another eye roll. Normally, I wouldn’t have even bothered talking to someone as snobby as her. But Vanessa told me that Raven’s two older siblings attended Beaumont and pledged sororities on campus. And if I wanted the inside scoop on the Zeta Betas, I needed to play nice.

  Vanessa seemed sweet and it wasn’t like I wanted to upgrade, but we had nothing in common, so I didn’t see a long-term friendship developing—not without making serious investments in quality headphones or duct tape. And I had a deal with my dad that I was determined to live up to.

  Going to a new college seemed scary enough without knowing anybody. A brand-new school, with hundreds of unfamiliar people, and I had no idea how to make new friends. Until now. Zeta Beta—here I come!

  We walked out of the lunch line with our trays. Raven strutted ahead of us, and pushed out her chest as if making sure her huge boobs entered the main area of Beaumont’s cafeteria before the rest of her did. You’d think a girl with a snout like that wouldn’t have the nerve to act so stuck-up, but she succeeded in looking down that nose at everyone she passed. We took seats at an empty table.

  Raven untwisted the top off her water bottle. “You never said why you changed schools and moved to Northern California.”

  An immediate tenseness slipped over me. “No. I didn’t.”

  “I gotta use the bathroom.” Vanessa set down her tray, then rushed out the side door, leaving me alone with Raven.

  Oh, joy.

  She took a bite of an apple. “I have to hurry. I have a psych class in thirty minutes.”

  Sneering, I said, “You’re taking a Netflixer?”

  “What? Those are not easy classes!” Raven straightened her shoulders. “I’m a business major and I plan to help Daddy run the company as vice president when I graduate. What about you?”

  I shrugged. “Liberal arts. But I’m undecided.”

  “Do you have your schedule?” Raven asked.

  I pulled it from my pocket and handed it to her while silently praying we didn’t have any classes together.

  She scanned it, then pushed it back toward me. “We’ve got European History with Professor Grossman together. I’ve heard the guy’s a real hard-ass.”

  “Just my luck,” I mumbled.

  More students filtered into the cafeteria and took seats. A group of frat brothers dominated an area in the back and tossed a football over three girls’ heads, which made them squeal and duck.

  “You never answered my question. Why’d you leave SoCal?” Raven asked.

  I blew out a breath. “It’s a long story.”

  She sat back. “I’ve got time before my next class. So spill.”

  Once a person fully committed to their lies, a snowball effect began. Now I felt like I couldn’t stop. And I figured these harmless white lies made me seem more like a tragic heroine, than the embarrassing truth.

  “Well, my parents actually died in a house fire when I was fourteen,” I said smoothly. “After I won a partial college scholarship as a champion ping-pong player in high school, I worked part-time as a Walmart greeter to help pay the bills.” I sniffled. “After I was laid off and my brother got fired from his job at the lumber mill, he robbed a bank. I had no choice but to turn him in when I found the money. It was terrible. The press wouldn’t leave me alone, so I changed schools…”

  Life would be a so much easier if conversations had a delete button, like email. Or if a person could ask people to disregard what they’d just said, like in a courtroom drama. Please strike from the record all uncontrollable lies by Serena about her past. But this was real life and I was an awful liar.

  Raven stared at me for a long moment, then said, “I think I heard about that on the news last year. Some crazy brother who pulled a bank job to help support his little sister. No wonder you moved away.”

  Thankfully, I was saved from making up any more outrageous stories by my roommates’ return. Vanessa took the seat beside mine and pushed her tray closer. She asked Raven about her psych class, which took the focus off me.

  Conversations echoed in the cavernous room, accompanied by the steady drone of chewing and the clanking of silverware hitting plates and bowls. Several RAs sat at a large table with their food and laptops. I couldn’t help scanning the room for signs of Cole, but he wasn’t here.

  Vanessa bumped her shoulder with mine. “Sooo, are you going to pledge a sorority, Serena?”

  “Yeah, I think I am,” I replied. “My mom was a Zeta Beta.”

  “You’re a legacy?” Vanessa sipped her orange Vitamin water. “Then you can clearly get a bid and pull some serious rank!”

  “Are you delusional?” Raven asked. “You don’t just decide to pledge. Get a clue.”

  Boobs for Brains was just asking to be punched.

  “Nice attitude,” I said.

  Raven laid her napkin across her lap. “Whatever. The point is, not just anyone can get into Zeta Beta. I’m all for going Greek, but you have to be extraordinary.”

  “Yeah, but once you’re accepted, you’re set for life.” Vanessa cleaned the lens of her glasses with a napkin. “They’re all overachievers.”

  Raven sighed. “The Zeta Beta is based on academics, athletics, and philanthropy. They do a lot for the community and volunteer charity work. With them, it’s all about the bonds of sisterhood and supporting one another more than anything else. Sure, some of them can be snobby, but most girls are genuinely nice. Anyway, that’s why they’re the most popular sorority on campus.”

  “They get recommendations from all the alumnae and every single one of them ends up in some kickass job,” Vanessa said. “The women who become Zeta Beta sisters have gone on to be senators, lawyers, and even CEOs.”

  My brows crinkled. “You’re serious?”

  “I shit you not.” Raven nodded. “Their reputation is blemish free.”

  “For real.” Vanessa put her glasses back on and squeezed out a packet of ranch dressing over her chicken salad.

  “They do rushes every fall and spring. The next one should be sometime this month,” Raven said.

  “I thought you had to be invited,” I replied.

  “I will get an invite. I’m a legacy,” Raven said. “One of my older sisters was a Zeta Beta. So I might not even need to pledge.”

  I fought the urge to stab her with my fork. The fact that someone like Raven could automatically get into a top-notch sorority like Zeta Beta just illustrated everything that was wrong with the world.

  Vanessa giggled. “Which basically means they have to take your obnoxious butt.”

  Score one for Vanessa! Maybe she didn’t entirely suck.

  “Well, since my mom was a Zeta Beta,” I said. “Maybe they’ll have to take me, too.”

  “Hey. Check it out.” Raven lifted her chin. “See those girls over there? They basically run the Zeta Beta sorority.”

  Three young women strode into the room toward a table in the center of the cafeteria. Leading the gang was the tall girl I had spied from my room the other night, with long black hair, wearing a printed Lilly Pulitzer blouse paired with designer jeans and Kors wooden-heeled clogs. She spoke to the shorter, curly-haired girl who walked beside her, and tugged at the hem of the floral Laura Ashley top she wore over a knee-length denim skirt and leather boots. Behind them, the stunning brunette, whose hair was styled in a messy bun again, wore a short-sleeved tee with skin-tight Guess jeans. She walked with her shoulders back and her chin up—runway style.

  Raven rested her chin on her hand. “I would kill to be friends with Jade Goodwin.”

  “Which one’s Jade?” I asked.

  “Tallest one,” Raven said, envy dripping from he
r lips. “She’s a senior and Zeta Beta’s unofficial queen bitch of the chapter. Until she steps down next year or gets voted off the island.”

  “Rumor has it that Jade’s going to marry Kellan Young after graduation,” Vanessa said, glancing over at the center table. “I think they’ve been engaged since they were toddlers.”

  A big guy with buzzed light brown hair sat beside Jade and wrapped his muscled arms around her waist. She tilted her head back, her black tresses falling over her chest, and he kissed her. Or should I say, he examined her tonsils with his tongue?

  “Their families are old friends and they come from major money,” Raven explained. “Evidently, arranged marriages aren’t as outdated as you might think.”

  “You mean it’s more like a financial merger?” I joked, taking a bite of my sandwich.

  “I guess it’s a good thing they’re in love. I doubt anyone could force Jade to do anything she didn’t want to,” Vanessa said.

  “Who’s the booklover?” I asked, gesturing toward the petite girl reading a paperback.

  “That’s Claire Davenport,” Raven replied. “Claire is the brains of the operation. She’s literally a genius. I heard that Claire’s from Florida where everyone basically wears sandals and fanny packs. After she moved to Beaumont, she overhauled her image and became just another trendy fashionista. And the ultra-beautiful one is Brooklyn Van Allan. She’s modeled for a ton of mags like Vogue, Cosmo, Seventeen...”

  “Omigod! Her face is on the billboard outside the Starbucks,” Vanessa exclaimed.

  “Omigod!” Raven shot back, mimicking her. “Keep your voice down, you freak.”

  “Brooklyn’s an actual model?” I asked.

  I glanced around and noted that at least half the male students were gawking at Brooklyn, and two were even drooling. I quashed the urge to pass out napkins because I didn’t think it would win me any points with the Zeta Betas.

  Raven massaged her temple as if feigning a headache. “Are you two planning on getting her autograph or what?”