Corrupt Me

Chapter 11

Sam's cure turned out to be the first frat party of the year. I couldn't say I was in the mood to put on actual clothes and makeup, but as Sam suggested, it would be a way to meet people—people other than Tristan.

Ugh.

For my best friend, I got out of my comfy clothes and showered before heading out on campus. We didn't have to go far.

The 30A was known to throw some killer parties, and with Sam as my best friend, I was no stranger to everything from a beach bash to a house party. A college block party wasn't all that impressive. Same shit, different people. I never would have gone without Sam. But I had to admit there was something cool about being able to go from block to block and seeing the streets full of students drinking, laughing, dancing, singing, and generally having the time of their lives. Each corner we turned down, someone handed me a different drink. I felt like I was taking a booze tour.

It was nice to forget about Tristan and Preston. Or try to.

The White Claws and Jungle Juice definitely helped. As did the warm buzz contributing to not a single thought about the Malone brothers. Until Preston decided to remind me he existed.

My phone buzzed as Sam and I sat on the curb. A voice in my head told me not to check my phone. The only person I wanted to talk to was beside me. I didn't listen. Seeing Preston's name on my screen still with a stupid heart beside it instilled an instant sinking feeling in my gut.

"Who is it?" Sam asked.

"No one," I replied, shoving the phone back into my pocket.

She raised a brow but didn't say anything else, guessing I didn't want to talk about it. And I didn't. Not about Preston. And not about Tristan. I'd said all I had to say about them earlier today.

But Preston was persistent, especially because he was used to getting his way. He hated to be ignored.

A cute guy with shaggy dark hair pulled Sam onto the street to dance. She tried to coax me to join them, but I shook my head, needing a breather. We'd been walking, drinking, or dancing for the last two hours. My feet wanted a rest. Content to sit on the sidelines and watch, I sipped on my White Claw. Out of habit, I pulled out my phone to see if I had missed any messages.

Fuck, had I.

A string of unread texts and unanswered phone calls lined my notifications. Every single one of them was from Preston. There were only two times he ever blew up my phone. When he was horny or when he was drunk. The two often coincided.

I knew I shouldn't, but I skimmed through the texts. All the same messages. Ever, call me. Why won't you return my messages? Blah. Blah. Blah. It wasn't that I was insensitive to his broken heart. I just wasn't convinced he truly loved me. I'd been more of a convenience to Preston. There had definitely been a friendship between us, and I missed that part more than I missed being his girlfriend. We had been friends beforehand. And honestly, I was ignoring him. At least for the time being until I trusted myself to hold my ground and found out what the fuck Tristan was up to.

Frowning at the screen, a shadow fell over me. I was no longer alone on the curb.

I sat on the side of the road, wondering how long I could ignore their looming presence. It became clear this person was not leaving, and my curiosity finally got the best of me. Lifting my head, an internal groan rumbled through my chest at the sight of Tristan glaring above me. In a block party full of hundreds of college students, how the fuck had he found me? Did I stand out that much?

The displeasure on my lips deepened. "Tristan, what do you want?" I hated the way my voice sounded defeated as if I had already given up.

"If you don't like what's on your phone, why don't you turn it off," he stated. The ominous darkness of his features made me want to shudder.