Broken Elite: An Angsty College Romance

Chapter One

    

Everly

Showing up at a Phi Delta Theta party in Care Bear pajama shorts isn't my proudest moment, but here I am. I don't know where to begin looking in the massive house built for the pride and joy of Darlington University. They've trashed it for the night, but a crew, paid for by the college, will be around tomorrow to clean up after them. I squeeze through the first floor of drunken students looking for anyone I recognize. I curse my cousin Zach's name as I catch an elbow to the ribs from an extra enthusiastic beer pong player. My cousin is the whole reason I agreed to move across the country to attend college in Colorado. My parents have been busy traveling for their property investment endeavors since I can really remember. If I'm honest, Zach feels like only family I've ever had, even if that's been ruined too now.

"Everly!" I whip toward the sound of my name over the thumping music, and my eyes settle on Tommy. He's standing on the brand new steel staircase leading up to the bedrooms, the toes of his pristinely white sneakers flexing against the maroon tread. His smile is fake, but the understanding in his grey eyes is authentic. With a red solo cup clutched in each hand and a blonde hanging off of each of his arms, all he can do is jerk his head toward the stairs behind him.

"Trick's with Zach," he says flatly, but his thick New York accent is front and center. He's Hispanic and Italian, and depending on his mood, he can inflect whatever accent he chooses. The way he uses Patrick's nickname, the one he got from their coach for using trick shots during games, brings me a little comfort. I ignore the judgment in the blondes' eyes as they appraise my attire. When Zach calls me, there's no time, and I knew that when I decided I would be there for Patrick no matter how he feels about me.

Tommy is on the hockey team with Patrick and Zach. At this university, a coveted spot on the team automatically means a mandatory induction into the Phi Delta Theta fraternity. It's a package deal, both or nothing. At one time, I was close with all of Patrick's best friends. And I'm not delusional enough to think that Tommy is being friendly to me now for any reason other than he's plastered and heading up to his bedroom with two puck bunnies. Aside from Zach, the rest of his friends avoid me like 8AM classes. As far as I'm concerned, Zach doesn't have a choice other than to acknowledge me because at one time, we only had each other. His mom is originally from India, but they moved to the States when he was young to get away from his abusive father. My uncle quickly became infatuated with Zach's mom when they met at work, and it didn't take long before they got married.

I follow Tommy and his harem up the staircase to the third floor, turning sideways in the hall to avoid grinding couples that couldn't find anywhere more private to grope each other. I'm not shocked, I'm actually used to this by now. For the last month, I've been getting these calls from Zach, always after 1AM.

I lift my fist to knock on Patrick's door, but I'm cut short by a hand gripping my sweatshirt covered bicep, whirling me around. Zach glares at me, through messy black hair. He's drunk, which is the only time his hair isn't slicked back in perfection. I don't have to question his anger, I already know. He thinks this situation is my fault, and despite the bravado they all put on of being tough as nails hockey players, and fraternity brothers who don't give a shit about anything, they really do care about each other. He's worried about Patrick, and this is his way of showing it. The only thing I can do is yank my arm away from him to establish that I have some sort of control in this.

"You called me," I say, glaring right back. I know he's on Patrick's side, and that's fine. I want him to be.

"He's in my room. He trashed his whole room already. Shit's everywhere." Zach sighs. His light hazel eyes are anguished. The anger is gone, and all I can distinguish is genuine concern. "Are you sure..." he trails off, his hand sliding over the top of his head and down the back of his neck.