Four years ago . . .

Saturday nights are great money at the Pretty Kitty, but for once I’m glad for a night off. I’m hurting and stressed and want nothing more than to lose myself in a good, old-fashioned college house party. I can hear the music and smell the stale beer even before I come in the front door.

I’m still pissed at Nic for the way he wrote me off today. “Stop thinking this is some fairytale, because there’s nothing between us anymore.”

I’m still pissed at myself for telling him that Clarence came around. Maybe on some level I’m disgusted with myself for considering Clarence’s offer. I contemplated a line I swore I’d never cross.

I need this party because I can’t stop asking myself where I’d be tonight if Nic had wanted my help. I can’t say I would have gone to Clarence easily, but it eats at me to know I wouldn’t have rejected the idea outright. I would have considered it. And what does that say about me? Am I so close to whoring myself out?

“Bailey’s here!” a girl shouts as I push my way through the crowd to the drink table. She’s in my history class, but I can’t remember her name. “Tequila?” she asks, and she takes a swig from a bottle before offering it to me.

I shake my head and point to the keg. “Beer’s more my style.” Actually, I think beer tastes like piss, but if I start chugging tequila from the bottle like that chick, God knows where I’ll end up at the end of the night. I do my best to reserve hard liquor for smaller gatherings, where I know and trust everyone in attendance.

I find a red cup and stand in line to fill it. The chaos around me quiets the anxiety that’s been gnawing at me since last night. This is exactly where I need to be.

My confession? The truth that I would never tell Nic? I love college. I was worried that I might not fit in with all these rich kids because, let’s face it, aside from the students here on athletic scholarship, the only people who can afford BHU without getting into lifelong debt are those who come from some serious family money.

Personally, I fall into the lifelong debt category. I wanted a chance at a life outside of Blackhawk Valley and at a career that doesn’t involve shaking my ass in front of strange men. I didn’t want to become my mother.

Any apprehension I had about going to BHU has faded with the realization that I have as much right to be here as the next girl. It’s not just the parties. I love the challenge of the classes and all the endless clubs and organizations. I even love living in the dorms—it beats Mom’s trailer, where there’s too much clutter and no AC.

Mia can’t come out tonight. She got a babysitting gig, and she likes to take any opportunity she can to pick up extra cash. I’m not going to let that stop me. After seeing her brother today, I need to let my hair down and dance—just not topless on stage.

I’m halfway through my first beer and swaying my hips to the music when I feel someone watching. Turning, I spot a guy across the room looking at me with unabashed appreciation. He has intense green eyes, dark skin, and a smile that might have made my stomach flutter if I was a little less jaded. He looks vaguely familiar, so I’m guessing I’ve seen him around campus.

After meeting my gaze, he waits, as if he’s sure I’m going to go to him. With those broad shoulders, thickly muscled arms, and big hands, it’s a pretty safe bet that most girls would. But I’m not most girls and my heart still belongs to the biggest bad boy I know, so I just smile and return to my drink.

After a few minutes, he appears next to me. “You live with me.”

I arch a brow. “Pretty sure I don’t.”

“Not with, near.” Grinning, he takes one hand off his red Solo cup of beer and offers it to me. “I’m Mason from the quad down the hall from you.”

“Hi, Mason from the quad down the hall. I’m Bailey.”

“I know.” His smile reaches his eyes in the most charming way, and when his gaze slides over me, warmth swirls in my belly.

“How do you know?”

“I asked your roommate about you. I’ve been nursing a crush on you since the day I saw you move in.”

That surprises me—not the crush, because whatever—but that a guy like him would admit to it. I’d expect him to play it cool and maybe be attracted to me but act ambivalent about whether I was interested in return. I like that he comes right out with it. It’s refreshing, even if I don’t have the time or emotional energy for cute boys with intense eyes and big hands. My life is way too complicated for crushes and feelings. “If you had such a crush, why didn’t you introduce yourself before now?”

His lips quirk. “The day you moved in, you were wearing short white shorts that stole my capacity for speech.”

“And after?” I’m surprised to hear the flirty cadence to my words. That’s not like me. Maybe I should blame Nic and the way his words made me feel today. I deserve a fucking minute to flirt with a cute boy who makes me feel good. Hell, after Nic’s speech, I deserve a whole damn month.

“You want to know the truth?” he asks.

“I always prefer the truth.”

“I was hoping you’d notice me. You know, so I’d have a better chance when I finally introduced myself.” He draws in a long breath. “But that wasn’t working, and I’m not that patient, so . . . here I am.”

My gaze snags on the guys walking in the front door, and my smile falls away. Clarence and the boys from last night. Fuck. Are they here for me?

A boy in a tailored shirt and tight jeans saunters over to Clarence and smacks something into his hand. He’s here for business.

I hope it’s too crowded in here for Clarence to see me. Maybe he doesn’t care—that would be best—but I no sooner have the thought than his gaze sweeps across the room and lands on me. I react instinctively, looping my arms around Mason’s neck and tilting my face up to his. “So are we going to dance or just stand here and make small talk?”

He blinks at me in surprise, but a beat later, a slow, sexy grin covers his face. “If the girl wants to dance, then I’ll dance.”

We ditch our cups and he settles his hands on my hips and holds me against him so the dance feels like something much more erotic. He’s a good dancer. He knows how to move his body without resorting to that awkward side-to-side stepping most boys do.

I’ve almost forgotten about Clarence when he taps Mason on the shoulder.

Mason doesn’t let me go, just arches a brow at the guy.

Clarence nods at me before looking at Mason. “Gonna need you to back off so me and my girl can go outside for a minute and talk.”

Mason looks at me, and he must see the fear on my face. Or maybe he feels it in the way I grip his shoulders. “If she wanted to be outside talking to you, that’s where she’d be. Why don’t you get out of our way?”

Clarence’s eyes narrow. “Do you think I’m afraid of a nigger?”

Mason stiffens, and he squeezes my hip and whispers, “Just a sec, okay?” before releasing me and turning to Clarence. I knew Mason was a big guy, but when he rolls his shoulders back to stare Clarence down, I swear he looks a foot taller and a foot broader than before. I don’t miss the way he steps in front of me, as if he’s creating a wall between me and this asshole.

“Everyone at this party knows why you’re here, and I imagine the cop parked in the alley out back knows, too. Why don’t you leave before somebody tips him off?”

Clarence shakes his head. “No pussy’s worth this shit.” He crooks a finger at his goons—never far behind—and leaves. Mason keeps his eyes on them until they’re out the door.

I deflate in relief.

When Mason’s attention returns to me, he watches me for a beat, and I wait for him to make some excuse to get away. I obviously come with trouble, and who wants to deal with that?

He touches my chin with two fingers. “I hope that was okay. It felt like you were afraid of him.”

I shrug. “He makes me uncomfortable.”

His green eyes search mine. “You okay?”

I nod. “Embarrassed that you had to deal with that, but otherwise okay.” He probably doesn’t even know I work at the Pretty Kitty and will run in the other direction when he finds out. I take a breath, preparing to rip off the Band-Aid. “I know him from work. The Pretty Kitty doesn’t exactly have all the classiest clients.”

“I heard you work there,” he says, as if I just admitted I work the drive-thru at McDonald’s. “I’m sorry you have to deal with assholes like that.”

“They’re a dime a dozen where I come from.” I’m still waiting for him to realize that I’m not like him. Still waiting for a sign that he understands what I do and why guys like Clarence think they have some sort of ownership over me.

Instead, he looks around the party. “Can I take you to a late dinner or something? It’s too loud in here.”

Maybe he’s a mind reader, because after seeing Clarence, I don’t want to be here anymore, and I was already thinking up excuses to leave. I love college because it feels like a different world, miles away from my old life and the world that’s got Nic in its claws, but tonight those worlds collided.

I smile at him and run my gaze over his toned biceps, broad shoulders, and narrow hips. “For some reason, I’m guessing you probably don’t eat the same foods I do.”

He shrugs. “I’d eat slugs if you’d keep looking at me like that.”

And just like that, my vague affection for this clean-cut college boy turns into a full-on crush. “I’m not really in the mood for slugs, but I’m always game for tacos.”

He takes my hand and laces our fingers together. “Tacos just became my favorite food.”