Fate Book

“I’m sorry, but it has to be this way.”

“What way?” I asked.

“Like I said, you weren’t supposed to know, but I suppose it’s better you found out. Otherwise, you might think something’s the matter with you.”

No, no, no. I didn’t like the sound of this at all. “What’s going on?”

“Your name and picture have been circulated to every fraternity on campus. No one will go near you, at least, not in a nonacademic way.”

He’d put the kibosh on anyone dating me?

“Well!” I threw up my hands. “At least you left me options in the non-Greek world.”

He winced and then shook his head no.

He’d gotten the word out to the non-Greeks, too? But how? There were dozens of clubs, sports teams, and academic associations. It was impossible to get to every guy on campus. Wasn’t it?

“How could you?” I fumed. And more importantly, I asked, “Why?”

“It’s easier this way.”

“Oh. I get it.” The tequila kicked in, and my body felt surprisingly strong. I felt surprisingly courageous. I felt…angry! “You want to control me, own me. You sick…stalker!”

“My interest in you is purely…”

He was about to tip his hand. “What? Scientific? Professional? Extraterrestrial?”

He crossed his meaty arms over his chest.

“Okay. Well, I’ve had enough. You said you came back because I wished it. So now I wish you away. Shoo! Shoo!”

“Doesn’t work like that. I’m not a genie—are you drunk?”

“Not yet, but as soon as the rest of that drink absorbs into my bloodstream, I sure the hell will be! And do you know what I’m going to do?”

The porch wobbled under my feet.

“Do tell, little girl.”

Son of a—I slapped him hard. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. You…monster.”

I stomped inside and charged through the kitchen into the overcrowded living room where I found Bridget dancing with that blond guy. I threw my arms into the air and let out a “Woo!” that was echoed by the rowdy crowd. The tequila made a warm home inside my chest and urged me to do many things I’d regret in the morning. Like kissing that really hot guy with the big blue eyes who’s watching you dance?

I beckoned him with my index finger, surprised when it actually worked. He was even cuter up close.

“Hi. What’s your name?” he asked, rubbing himself against me to the beat of the music—it was impossible not to, given how crowded the room was.

“I’m…Jane!” Dakota was, after all, blacklisted. But not Jane.

“Mike.”

“Hi, Mike. I hope you don’t mind, but I really want to kiss you.”

Yep. That was the tequila speaking.

“Okay by me.” He dipped his head and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let ’er rip. But instead of seeing Mike, I only saw my sexy ghost.

God, it felt so wrong. So sinful. But I knew it wasn’t the real thing, and that just made it even better. It was only safe when Santiago remained in the confines of fantasyland. I leaned into Mike and savored the feeling of his hands running over my body.

I expected at any moment to feel Santiago’s real hands prying us apart. But that didn’t happen. When I broke the kiss and looked up, I merely saw Santiago leering from across the room. He lifted his beer in my direction as if to say, “Enjoy the day.”

I nodded at him. I intend to.

Then he disappeared.

Bastard.

Surprisingly, the rest of the evening did not turn into that cliché of a college freshman girl away from home for the first time with access to unlimited alcohol. In fact, I felt quite proud. I kissed. I danced. I drank an incredible amount of water. I did not vomit on anyone’s hydrangeas or pass out. I didn’t end up in some strange guy’s bed. Nope. I walked out of the party with my chin held high, a giant blister on my toe, and a sober chauffeur, Bridget, to take us home.

As Mike and that blond guy from earlier—Eric—walked us to my car, I kept flashing glances over my shoulder, expecting Santiago to jump out from the bushes and beat the crap out of them. Or bark orders at me. Or throw me over his shoulder like his prized kill. No, I hadn’t seen him for hours, but I still felt his eyes on me, watching from somewhere. Or maybe it was simply a really bad case of paranoia. A completely justified case of paranoia!

Bridget and Eric talked and giggled quietly before she loaded herself into the driver’s seat. Mike was about to kiss me when Eric said, “Dude. No. Don’t kiss her.”

Mike looked at him as if he were asking for an ass whooping.

“Dude,” Eric said, “that’s Dakota Dane.”’

Mike looked down at me. “But you said your name was Jane.”

“I—I don’t know what this blacklisting crap is, but it doesn’t involve me.”