Slammed #4 (The Slammed Romance Series - Book #4) Read online

  SLAMMED #4

  (The Bad Boy Frat Series)

  By Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams

  Get Each of My Newly Released Books for 99 Cents By Clicking Here

  Read Slammed #1 By Clicking Here

  Read Slammed #2 By Clicking Here

  Read Slammed #3 By Clicking Here

  Like me on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Claire-Adams/547513332025338

  Newsletter: – Click here to get an email as soon as the next book in the series is available.

  Get your free copy of my never released book when you sign up for the authors VIP mailing list.

  Click here to get your free book

  CHAPTER ONE

  For what felt like a long time, I stared at the newspaper that Jess had given me, looking at the picture as my stomach churned. I’d had no idea that the morning was going to bring anything like this. My mind swirled around, alternating between fear and worry for Zack’s position—the possibility that he might be suspended from the team—and growing anger at the sight of a woman grinding up on him. The alcohol didn’t bother me in the slightest; I knew that Zack had started drinking before he even came to college, and the whole point of the frat he belonged to was to party as much as humanly possible.

  “I don’t understand,” I said finally, looking from the paper to Jess. “I mean, I really just don’t understand.”

  Jess sat down heavily, shrugging. “The school has to look like they’ll only tolerate a certain level of partying, and someone I guess turned Zack in.”

  “But…” I shook my head, staring at the picture once more. Had I seen the girl before? Was she one of the girls that seemed to always be around Zack? Had he slept with her? When was the picture from—it had to have been recent to have been included in the article. “Who the hell is that and what is Zack doing letting her be all over him like that?”

  Jess shrugged again. “I’d seen Zack around a few times before, and I mean, he’s sort of always been like that—wild, partying, hitting up whatever girl would pay him the least bit of attention. I mean, until you showed up, at least.”

  I bit my bottom lip and put the newspaper down. I felt hot and cold all at once, my heart pounding in my chest, my head already starting to ache. Zack had been like this before I came back into the picture. He had fooled around with girls, let them grind up on him—well, in fairness, I thought, he and I had danced just like that the first time he had seen me in years; why should I be surprised? I shouldn’t. But it still hurt; especially since I had no idea if the picture was from long before I had come back into his life or if it was from earlier in the night during the party I’d gone to find him at. I couldn’t think straight—my head was spinning.

  “Do you think I made a huge mistake getting back into his life?” I asked Jess. “I mean, that’s not the kind of person I am—do you think…do you think that’s the kind of girl he wants?”

  Jess shook her head. “He knows what kind of girl you are and he clearly wants you. What are you so upset about, Evie?”

  I swallowed against the tightness I could feel growing steadily worse in my throat. “I’m upset at the sight of the guy I like being dry-humped by some girl!” I said, standing up and pacing across the living room floor. “I mean, yeah, sure, whatever, double-fisting beers is an old hat trick, I’ve seen him doing that before. It’s not news. But what if he’s doing this…what if he’s still going after any girl who’ll pay attention to him?”

  I thought of seeing him in the dining hall line with his arm around a girl, just a couple of days after we’d had sex for the first time in years. I thought of him telling me it was just sex.

  But he’d acted differently since, hadn’t he? He’d asked me out on a proper date, he’d declared he was hung up on me in front of everyone. I’d been humiliated by the way he acted, but he was just showing off, just trying to get my attention. If he was really serious about having a relationship with me I could forgive him for what he’d done. But if he was dancing and flirting with other girls while keeping me on the line as a steady lay—if all I was to him was a reliable piece of ass—then I couldn’t stand that.

  “Is that what you think is happening?” Jess asked me.

  I shrugged, throwing my arms out wildly. “I have no fucking clue!” I ran my hands through my hair, trying to decide what I thought. “I just…he’s right there, some slut grabbing on him, and they probably slept together, and I don’t know whether it was from months ago or last year or last week!”

  “Last week, if it was then, you were freezing him out.”

  “What if it was the night of the party? What if he was grinding on that girl and hooked up with her and then got rid of her before I got there to talk to him.”

  “Busy guy, then,” Jess said, smiling faintly.

  “This isn’t funny, Jess!” Jess’ smile fell and she nodded. “On top of all that he might be getting suspended from the football team, and I don’t know how to feel about that…” I threw myself down on the couch. “What do I do, Jess? This is just…I can’t even handle everything going on in my brain right now.”

  “First, take a chill pill. If Zack gets suspended from the team then I sure as hell hope they have a backup plan because I can’t think of any way they’ll manage in the championship without him.” Jess paused a moment to think before continuing. “As for the rest of it, I mean, are you really not okay with him drinking and partying? You’re worried about the kind of girl that he wants you to be—but are you okay with the kind of guy he is?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “If he’s the kind of guy—still—who would let girls get all up on him and rub up against him even if he’s with someone…with me…then no. But I don’t know.”

  “You need to figure out what kind of guy he is, and you need to figure out if you’re okay with the kind of guy he is. I mean it. I can see you’re serious about him, but if he isn’t serious about you, you’re never going to be okay with that.” I nodded. “So figure it out, Evie, and do what makes sense from there.” Jess stood up, stretching. “Try and get some breakfast in your system before class.”

  I went into my room, still shaking with anger and upset. I should change out of my pajamas and get to the dining hall, get ready for the rest of my day. I should just put the picture I had seen and the article I had read completely out of my mind until I could talk to Zack about it. But my heart was pounding in my chest and I couldn’t take my mind off of the picture. I couldn’t stop thinking about the lurid details that the article had featured, the highlights of the frat’s history. “In 2004, the fraternity was the subject of a long investigation by the administration when an early-admission student, aged 15, told her parents that she had had sex with one of the members of the frat…In 2010, the frat was once more temporarily suspended pending the verdict in allegations of underage drinking and public lewdness, with several students alleging that public sex occurred during at least one party…” Zack hadn’t been a member of the frat for the worst of the infractions, but the frat’s reputation lent itself well to encouraging someone like Zack to do whatever he wanted.

  I pulled at my hair, groaning as I buried my face against my mattress. The thought of seeing Zack with another girl—both the way I had in real life, just a few short days after we had first reunited and then in the picture—made me angrie
r and angrier. I couldn’t put it out of my mind; it was impossible. I stood up and took a deep breath. I would have to actually confront him about it. There was just no two ways about it. I had to do it before I could psych myself out, before I had a chance to make myself miserable during my morning classes dwelling on it.

  I strode out of my room, stepping into a pair of slip-on shoes and grabbing up the newspaper that Jess had brought in from the coffee table where I’d let it fall. I made sure to grab my keys and card so I wouldn’t be locked out of the dorms, but I didn’t make time or take time for anything else. As I walked down the hall to the stairwell, I considered where I could actually find Zack. It was early enough in the morning that my first thought was that he would be at the frat house, still asleep. But then I corrected myself; Zack had told me about his training routine in our interview together. He and the team would be in the school gym, in the weight room, working out.

  I walked across campus, ignoring the chill in the air that cut through my pajamas and barely looking around me. It was early enough in the day that there weren’t very many people up and about; there was no one to see how upset I was at the whole situation. I caught sight of a few people rushing to early-morning classes in their pajamas, or heading for the dining hall, but anyone who was out of the dorms and the frats that early in the morning was focused entirely on themselves. As I walked I got more and more upset; how could Zack have led me on, if this was the kind of playing around he did? He and I—I thought—had had something special. The words from one of his frat brothers, the first night we had seen each other since we’d broken up in high school, filled my head. Zack was one of those guys, the kind I had started to avoid. All I was to him was a piece of ass—and that’s all I was to his frat brothers; another one of Zack’s conquests.

  It was easy to get into the gym; the card that let me into the dorm building was just as effective on the locked doors in the rec center. As soon as I got into the nearly-vacant building, I could hear the hard workouts going on in the weight room. The entire team would be there. For just a moment I checked, remembering just how much I hated making a public spectacle of myself—and how much I had hated Zack for making me a public spectacle the two times he had done it. But I knew I couldn’t wait. If I waited and let myself cool off, I’d accept any explanation from Zack and never get to the bottom of the situation. I plunged into the weight room and looked around.

  It wasn’t just the football team on the machines and using the free weights; the basketball team was also in the room, going through their own paces—some of them on treadmills, some of them on bikes, most of them lifting weights heavy enough to daunt me. I moved through the room as quickly as possible, ignoring the eddying pause of conversation all around me as I looked around for Zack. He was lying on a bench, a heavy weight hooked on a bar over him, getting ready to do presses.

  “Zack!” I called out, intending only to get his attention before he started; but my voice was shriller, sharper than I wanted it to be. Zack started, pulling his hands back from the barbell as if it was hot. Looking around, he spotted me and grinned.

  “Hey, Evie,” he said, slipping out from underneath the bar and standing up quickly. “I can’t really talk now—but I can hit you up right after class.”

  I shook my head, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel everyone looking at us, but I couldn’t make myself stop long enough to calm down and think about the best way to do what I needed to do.

  “What the hell is this?” I asked, waving the newspaper in front of his face. Zack grabbed at it, looking at the picture and article. He went red, and then white.

  “This is just some bullshit about them wanting to suspend me, it’s no big deal, Evie—”

  I let out a little shriek. “I don’t care about that! If you get suspended it’s your own fucking fault!” I pointed at the picture hard enough to almost rip the paper. “That. That. What is it?”

  Zack looked at the picture and frowned. “Evie, this is from a long time ago, I don’t even know…”

  I closed my eyes. I was shaking with rage, my eyes stinging with tears that I couldn’t let myself shed in front of half the school’s athletics department.

  “You don’t even know who she is, do you? Do you even care? Is that all I am to you too—just another girl to grab and fool around with?” Zack’s face got redder and redder and I saw him looking around at his teammates, at the members of the basketball team watching avidly.

  “That’s not what I was going to say and you know it,” Zack said, his voice dropping low. “I don’t know who took this picture, but it’s from forever ago.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe you. I thought you were different! I thought you gave a damn—I thought…” I shook my head again. “You’re just a stupid asshole like every other guy I’ve ever dated. Well, I hope you enjoyed it, because I’m not going to be your piece of ass anymore.”

  I turned around quickly. My heart was pounding and my eyes were burning, and all I could think of was getting out of there before someone saw me breaking into tears. I hurried out of the weight room and through the rec center, swallowing down the tightness in my throat and trying to keep my trembling to myself.

  I nearly ran across campus, slowing down only when I started to get a stitch in my side, avoiding looking at anyone that might be around as the tears started falling from my eyes before I got to the safety of my room. I couldn’t believe that I had actually thought Zack thought I was special, that I had let myself get suckered into falling for another guy who was just going to take whatever piece of tail came his way without any concern at all for my feelings. My hands shook as I tried to swipe my card to get into the building; it took me three tries before I was finally able to get the reader to scan my card properly.

  I stepped onto the elevator and hit the door close button over and over again; the last thing I wanted was to have to deal with someone riding with me, watching me as I tried to hold myself together. I sagged against the wall of the elevator, against the railing, shuddering and still angry, still hurt. I tried stalling the tears that were already starting to spill out of my eyes. When the elevator finally managed to make it up to my floor, I hurried off, towards my room, not even bothering to tell Jess what I’d done or that I was back—she’d hear the door. I threw myself onto my bed and gave into the sobs that were pushing up through my chest, burying my face in my pillow. Hot tears flowed into the fabric and I shook with anger and depression, not quite wanting to scream in my frustration.

  I lost all track of time, lying there and sobbing my eyes out, punching the mattress and grabbing at the pillow I’d buried my face in. After a while it finally started to dawn on me that before I had seen the newspaper article featuring Zack, I had been waking up, getting ready to go to class. I had class to get to.

  I pulled myself up and looked at the clock; I had been crying for almost an hour, and now I only had ten minutes to get to class, all the way across campus. I had no time to get dressed. I sighed, grabbing up my backpack and shoving my journalism textbooks into it. At least, I thought, half the student body went to class in their pajamas, especially the morning classes; no one was likely to notice that I wasn’t fully dressed.

  I hurried across campus, trying to focus my thoughts down on the class I was going to; I had missed my window for grabbing breakfast, so I would have to hope I had a little bit of time to get something to eat from one of the vending machines between morning classes or by the time lunch rolled around I would be totally useless. I hoped against hope that my face wasn’t too red, that my eyes weren’t too obviously bloodshot. My little spectacle in the weight room would already be making the rounds among the campus gossipmongers—the last thing I needed was for everyone to see me cried out, panicking that I wasn’t getting to class on time, and thinking that the whole reason for my upset was Zack.

  I took my usual seat in class, feeling oddly conspicuous in spite of the fact that half the people in the room with me were also in thei
r pajamas. Professor Grant came in a few minutes late, apologizing and looking around with a faint grin curving his lips.

  “I can see that everyone’s starting to get a little less formal now that we’re past midterms,” he said, looking at the other people in the room, but not—fortunately—at me.

  During the lecture, I tried to take notes but my mind kept going back to Zack. Why had I thought that he was any different from any of the guys I had ever dated? Because he’d been my first? I was an idiot. I should have known that Zack didn’t belong to the Phi Alpha Kappa group for no reason—he had loved to party even when we’d been in high school together, and clearly he’d just gone on doing that, getting more and more outrageous as he went. Hooking up with an ex-girlfriend wasn’t going to change that about him. I remembered Jess’ advice that I should figure out what kind of person Zack really was and decide if I was okay with it. I thought to myself that I had been acting like an idiot the whole time leading up to seeing that picture. I had believed that sure, Zack was rowdy and liked to get drunk and hang out with a bunch of guys who viewed women as conquests—but why would he hang out with people like that if he didn’t agree?

  Zack had never really seen me as anything other than another girl to get with. The thought of it made me sick. I had let myself start to think of Zack as really special—as someone who wanted me because of who I am, who knew me and who wanted me. In reality he was just the same as any guy; he just wanted a girl he could convince to sleep with him on the regular, who he could toss aside when it was inconvenient. How much longer would I have kept going with him if I hadn’t seen that article and that picture?

  I thought about everything that Zack and I had been through in the previous weeks, and I couldn’t make sense of it. If he really didn’t care about me, why had he performed so poorly when I had ignored him? He could have easily just moved on to someone else. But what if it was just a coincidence? If he had performed poorly because he’d had some other girl distracting him—and not because of me at all. Part of my brain argued that he had tried really hard to get in touch with me even when I was ignoring him, working hard to avoid even seeing him on campus. But had he really? He’d sent me some texts and made some phone calls, and had left a note on my door. I’d been avoiding him, but I had still kept to my usual routine; if he had wanted to find me, he could have gone to the Library, or the dining hall, any number of times and tracked me down.