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  Hope

  By Sydney Lane

  For the girls with the secrets... may you find peace.

  Copyright @2014 by Sydney Lane

  Cover image designed and owned by Melissa Storm Allen

  Edited by Erin Giblin, Kathy Krick

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  6 Months Ago

  I watch as she walks across the room, searching the crowd nervously. Is she looking for me? For him? I don’t really care. All I know is that I have to talk to her, to see her... it's been too long.

  Jenna has a firm grip on her hand, pulling her through the crowd as if she's afraid Quincy will run away. I wait for the perfect opportunity and step into her path. She's so close to me, I can smell her familiar vanilla scent. Searching her eyes, I can see that she has changed. She looks the same, but this isn't the Quincy I knew and loved.

  “Hey, Quincy.” I want to kick myself because that was lame and because I should've left well enough alone. My eyes search hers, and instead of seeing love, I see truth. Her eyes brighten as her shoulders relax. Her decision has already been made.

  It isn’t me.

  It was never me.

  “Hi. It’s good to see you.” Her voice, so sweet and familiar, cuts me. Is this what we’ve been reduced to? Strangers, acquaintances, and stilted conversation?

  “Just here to catch up with everybody before school starts.” I hesitate, hoping but knowing there is nothing I can say to change her mind. “Quince, how are you?" She looks fragile, like she’s working really hard to keep that beautiful smile on her face.

  “Doing good. Better than good, you know?" She falters, as though she wants to say something but changes her mind. "Good to see you. Jenna and I are….” Her eyes move to Jenna and back to me. She’s looking for an out, and dammit, I give it to her. I nod and step to the side, watching her fade into the crowd.

  I find myself searching for her, unable to walk away. Instinctively, I move toward the bar. She's talking to Jenna, obviously reluctant to be here. I notice him the moment her shoulders stiffen, as if she can sense him before she sees him. Brody.

  It’s like a train wreck. I don’t want to watch, but I can’t help myself.

  When she turns toward him, he takes her by the shoulders and shakes her. He’s saying something to her, and she's becoming more and more upset. Just when I decide to intervene, he abruptly releases her and walks away. I’m shaking, my hands fisted at my sides. I should've kicked his ass a long time ago.

  I consider going to her, but before I can move, she yells something, and he stops. He turns back, taking purposeful strides toward her as he pushes people out of his way. To an outsider, he may look like a drunk stumbling through the crowd. But me? I see a man on a mission to get his girl.

  My girl.

  And when she runs into his arms, he pulls her close, lifting her feet off the ground. His mouth slams into hers, and I finally turn away. There's only so much a guy can take.

  There is nothing here for me.

  Seeing her again hadn’t been as painful as I had thought it would be.

  Nope.

  It had been worse.

  Chapter 1

  Declan

  I let her go. Hell, I practically told her to go to him. So why does it feel like someone kicked me in the stomach every time I see them together? Every. Damn. Time.

  I could always try to avoid them, but eventually, I'd have to face reality. I just wish I didn’t have to be on the front row of the Brody and Quincy show.

  He’s one of my best friends, my fraternity brother, and the guy I’d love to hate.

  She's the girl I love. Dating my fraternity brother. So close yet so far away.

  The music is loud, and the lights are dim. I will myself not to look, but it's as if my eyes are drawn to them, unable to turn away. There are just so many things left unspoken, apologies never accepted, and hearts broken. People say that time heals all wounds, but as I look across the room, I'm ripped wide open again. A new wound reopens the previous one, leaving invisible scars that cut deep.

  Too deep.

  Every weekend, it's the same old thing.

  According to the brotherhood, a brother should never fall for another brother's girl. He should never touch another brother's girl. He should never want a brother's girl. But it happens. It happens more than most of us care to acknowledge. I guess it makes sense. We spend so much time around each other that if you're attracted to one of the girls, and you get thrown together enough, the line between right and wrong becomes blurred. Add alcohol into the mix, and it's a disaster waiting to happen. We're all just one big, happy family like that.

  The music blares in my head while I search the crowd for Brody. I don't bother comparing myself to him. I know girls like me, but they want him. Even now, he's standing with a group of girls who are pressed against him, batting their eyelashes, like they can't get enough. They have no idea.

  Quincy stands nearby with her friends, smiling at him over her shoulder. God, how can she stand there and watch that? I never would have disrespected her that way. I would've treated her like the princess she is- sweet, innocent, and every guy's dream girl. The type of girl you marry. Quincy Priest is everything I want.

  Turns out, you can't make someone want you back.

  Brody talks to the girls, giving them his infamous panty-dropping smile while watching Quincy from afar. A cute blonde lays her hands on his arm, leaning so close to him that her tits rest on his arm. A brunette smiles up at him, placing her hand on his other arm. All in all, there are four girls surrounding him, vying for his attention. Well, all except a tall blonde standing to the side. She appears to be with the other girls, but her eyes roam the room, looking at everyone but Brody.

  Something stirs inside of me as I watch her. She's totally hot in a badass sort of way. Her hair is pale blonde with some sort of streaks through it, maybe black. It falls just to her shoulders, where a tattoo peeks out from behind her ear. She's wearing a short leather skirt and a sexy, red tank that barely covers her stomach. If she raised her arms, I wouldn't be surprised if her shirt rode up to reveal a navel ring. Her eyes are astute, and I'm betting from here that they are as blue as an October sky. Her lips are painted the most luscious red color, and I marvel at exactly how beautiful the whole picture is... even though she is the complete opposite of Quincy.

  I love how she doesn't give Brody the time of day. The more he talks, the more she rolls her eyes, appearing restless and bored, instead of jumping on his fan wagon. I have no idea who this girl is, but if she can resist Brody, she's my kind of girl.

  She doesn't exactly seem to be looking for a nice guy either. And, right now, I don't have a problem with that. I've been the nice guy. I'm tired of being that guy. You know, the one girls love to share their secrets with, love to snuggle up and watch movies with, but never give their hearts to? Yeah, that guy. I'm tired of being him.

  Being the nice guy sucks. It ranks up there with other double-edged compliments like "gentleman", "reliable", "adorable", and "sweet". Sweet. Like cotton candy sweet? Or like the little old lady you met at the park sweet?
Because I'm not so sure I like either anymore.

  Apparently, I'm easy to talk to, a good listener, a... friend. My mom raised me to be all of those, and yet, I find myself wishing I were more like the dickhead standing a few feet away from me.

  There's something to be said for being the one who gets the girl.

  Sexy, cocky, dangerous... words that would never apply to me. But that seems to be what girls want. Tattoos and all, only adding credibility to the "bad boy" image.

  I continue watching the girl with Brody, expecting her to finally wake up and start falling all over him like her friends are, but she never does. She continues to shuffle her feet, her hip swaying to the beat of the music, while she remains immune to his charms.

  Intriguing.

  I stand, willing myself to go upstairs to my room, to put an end to this miserable day. I can't resist walking past the blonde, my eyes drawn to her long legs and striking figure. It's not every day a guy like me meets a girl who could lay her head on his chest. At 6'4", it's hard to find a girl who "fits". This one? I don't even have to touch her to know she would be a perfect match.

  I have to admit, I'm mildly interested. As she turns and her wide eyes fall on me, following me as I walk by, I envision myself stopping to talk to her, maybe even getting her number or kissing those perfect red lips. A guy could get lost in a body like that.

  If I were that kind of guy. Well... who says I can't be?

  I don't even try to pretend I'm not looking at her when our eyes meet over the heads of those between us. In that brief moment, I imagine a connection, something familiar reflected in her stare.

  Yep. She's broken, too.

  Chapter 2

  Eliza

  I don't even know why I came here. Fraternity parties just aren't my thing, and I sure as hell don't hang with this crowd. Guys looking for an easy piece of ass and girls who are trying way too hard. Sometimes, I'm afraid of solitude but surrounding myself with a bunch of pretentious assholes does nothing for me. As a matter of fact, I feel lonelier surrounded by these people than I do when I truly am alone.

  That's the way it is when you've learned things the hard way. I started at the very bottom, and I'm clawing my way out of the hellhole I've been in. College is my last chance to prove myself, to prove that I'm a survivor. I'm not lost.

  I repeat the words over and over in my head- my mantra- as if saying it enough will make it true.

  I came with my friends, Corrine and Whitney, but I'm already thinking of ways I can ditch them. All I need is a drink and a guy, something or someone to take me far away from here, even if it's just for tonight.

  Whitney is shamelessly throwing herself at Brody, a guy she used to hook up with. It's pretty pathetic to watch, actually, because it's plain to see that he has eyes for one girl and one girl only. She's a tiny little thing with long brown hair, and she looks at him like he's her salvation. There's something foreign in that look, something I'll never know or understand.

  I've been let down too many times in my life to start believing in things like that. Whatever that is. I think I know love. You know, the kind your parents have for you? But that's only because they're obligated to love you, right? Since they're your parents and all.

  Secretly, I wish I had terrible parents. Like maybe if they didn't love me so damn much, I could let go of this life. I could just pack up and leave, take my ass somewhere far, far away from here. It's a constant struggle, a futile war, one that makes me want to stay and want to run. It's so damn exhausting.

  My eyes are still on the girl, maybe I'm even wishing that I was more like her, when she casts a worried look over her shoulder. I follow her line of vision to a tall, well-built guy across the room. He's wearing a polo shirt neatly tucked into his belted waistband and khaki cargo shorts. Short, black hair and smoldering eyes- fills the order for tall, dark, and handsome.

  Nothing like the guys I take home from Bliss. We meet, we hook-up, and we leave without goodbyes. Then, I pray like hell I never run into them on campus. It's a glamorous lifestyle.

  His eyes search the room, falling on the brunette. For a moment, their eyes lock and something passes between them. He looks away first. He's conflicted, his eyes caressing her- like he's memorizing the details, even as he sets his jaw and averts his gaze.

  I get it.

  He wants something he can't have.

  Well, welcome to my world, where things don't come easy and dreams don't come true. Where somebody else is in charge and the boogie man is real. I should know.

  I've met him.

  I'm beyond bored, wishing Whitney would give up and call it a night, when I feel a tingle run down my spine. It's that feeling you get when someone's looking at you, and it makes me totally uncomfortable. You never know what people might see if they look long enough.

  Shifting from foot to foot, I grow more uneasy by the second. I fidget, looking around, and my gaze crashes into a stone wall with the darkest eyes I've ever seen. It's the tall guy across the room. He's staring at me as if he's picking me apart, analyzing me, and it makes me want to bolt. It's what I do best. Cut and run.

  It's so easy that way.

  I look away because I already know this guy isn't what I'm looking for. He's a lover, someone who has real feelings and lets his emotions get involved. I can see that from his perfectly displayed heart right there on his sleeve. Exactly why I need to avoid him. Guys like him scare the shit out of me.

  I feel an intense need to escape, to hide from his prying eyes, but then, he's walking toward me, his eyes holding me captive. This time, I stare back. It's a challenge. Maybe pretty boy likes to take a walk on the wild side every now and then.

  Maybe he needs to forget sometimes, too.

  Pain recognizes pain. But I'm not in pain anymore. I'm numb, drowning a little more each day and trying to forget how I ended up here.

  For an instant, he hesitates, and I think he's going to speak to me. His lips part, ever so slightly, before he seals them in a grim line and continues walking. I feel the heat emanating from his body. He smells clean, freshly showered, and absolutely delicious. His arm brushes against mine, intentional or not, without so much as a backwards glance.

  I should have known.

  I'm not good enough for him.

  Guys like him may scare the shit out of me, but girls like me aren't good enough for guys like him. Something that feels a whole lot like disappointment settles in the pit of my stomach.

  Fuck this. Without thinking, my feet begin moving, following him into the crowd. I stumble and almost slam into his back when he stops abruptly in the doorway. His shoulders droop as he turns around, his eyes once again finding her, the girl he obviously wants but can't have.

  This time, when he walks away, I don't follow.

  "Hey, Whit, I'm outta here." I walk past my friends, not even slowing down to hear her response. All I know is that I have to get out of here before I freak and really get some attention. Putting one foot in front of the other, I walk until I'm breathless. Across campus, through the quad, to my dorm. Campus security warns us about walking alone at night. "Call for an escort." "Call a buddy", they say. Yeah, well, I'm not afraid of the dark. Evil doesn't live there.

  Evil lives in plain daylight, right where you least expect it.

  I struggle to breathe, willing the tears pressing at the back of my eyelids to stay where they are. If a single tear escapes, I might just shatter into pieces.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Why now? Why tonight?

  I know the answer, but I don't want to. I refuse to accept it. It has nothing to do with that guy. He wasn't even my type.

  It was his eyes.

  In that last look- I recognized something there, something raw and painful and haunting.

  I take it as a warning.

  Because something I know, without a doubt, is that two broken people can't put each other back together.

  Chapter 3

  Declan

  I've learned to disappear.
Over the last few months, I've perfected the art of avoidance. Quincy wants to apologize. Brody wants to apologize. Everybody's sorry about what happened.

  Apology not accepted.

  There's not a damn thing, not one word, either of them could say to make me feel any better. The old me would have pushed the pain aside, ignoring my own feelings, to do whatever it took to make things right. Well, I'm not that guy anymore.

  I can't stomach the pity on Brody's face, misplaced concern that is too little, too late. I don't want his pity. I just want to punch him in the face, but it still wouldn't be enough. Accepting his apology would allow him to breathe a little easier, and he doesn't deserve it.

  And Quincy. Just thinking about her twists the knife in my gut. It's not that I don't believe her when she says she's sorry. It's just that I don't need her apology. I need her.

  I came to Bliss to get away from them, but lo and behold, here they are- the perfect couple. Even I can see the irony in that. It seems there's no place to hide anymore.

  My fraternity brothers have a table in the corner, and I take a seat in the darkest spot, facing the dance floor. I immediately regret it.

  When Quincy dances, it's like she goes to a different place, somewhere deep inside herself. It's the only time I've ever really seen her let her guard down, and it doesn't hurt that she's a great dancer, her body moving fluidly with the beat of the music. The only thing that ruins the picture is Brody moving behind her, their bodies perfectly matched for one another. I turn away, distracting myself with the conversation around me.

  "Hey, Dec!" Seth, my loud and overly boisterous fraternity brother, doesn't allow me to stew in my self-pity too long. "You drivin' tonight?" More times than not, I volunteer to be the designated driver, and I'm happy to do it, but I came here to get away from everything, and I'm going to do just that.

  I shake my head. "Nah, man, not tonight." I take a long swallow from my beer, wishing it was something stronger, something strong enough to temporarily fill the gaping hole inside of me.