A Higher Education Read online

  But not tonight, apparently.

  Will watched Charlie approach the women, the one on the right—the one he seemed most interested in—noticed him first. She flashed him a smile and extended her hand to his.

  “Jane,” he heard her say. “Pre-law.”

  “Of course you are!” Charlie boomed enthusiastically. “Excuse me while I take the fifth on everything.”

  She laughed, and it was a sweet, pleasant sound that seemed authentic, as though his joke was actually clever.

  “What year?”

  “Third,” Jane replied, beaming wider still. “You?”

  “Same. Though in nothing as exciting as law.” He looked to Jane’s friend briefly, then flashed the same smile that had gotten him laid throughout high school. “Business.”

  “That’s exciting,” Jane said.

  “You’re sweet to say so,” he replied, grinning at her.

  Finally, Jane’s friend stepped forward and decided to insert herself into the conversation. “I’m Elizabeth.”

  “Of course you are!” Charlie boomed again. “Elizabeth, I want you to meet a friend of mine.” Then he turned and grinned at Will.

  Don’t do it. Don’t—

  “Will, stop being antisocial and get over here.”

  There was every chance he would murder Charlie when they were alone again. Will drew in a deep breath, tried to resurrect the polite smile he’d always worn at his parents’ various functions, and marched over with all the enthusiasm of a man headed toward the gallows.

  “This is Will,” Charlie said loudly, throwing an arm around him once he was within arm-throwing range. “Now, don’t let his soulful eighty-six year old eyes fool you. He is only a bit older than me…” His voice dropped conspiratorially. “And a freshman.”

  If ever a hole were to spontaneously appear beneath his feet, now would be the time. Either to drag him into the pits of the underworld or provide him some sort of weapon with which to bash over his so-called best friend’s blond head—either would be appropriate.

  “I am too, actually,” Elizabeth said. “Glad to know I won’t be the oldest freshman in the class.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Will said immediately, his mouth acting of its own accord. “How old are you?”

  Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow. “Pretty sure that’s one of those questions you’re never supposed to ask, isn’t it? How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  She blinked. “Wow. You are an old freshman.”

  Yes, like he needed a reminder of that.

  She looked at him expectantly, the way everyone did when they learned he wasn’t a doe-eyed recent graduate of a preppy high school. Of course, once they learned his name, most people were smart enough to keep their stupid mouths shut. Somehow he didn’t think that tactic would work on her.

  Finally, Will realized the conversation wasn’t going to change without help, and cleared his throat. “There were circumstances.”

  “What kind?”

  The none-of-your-business kind. “My mother died.”

  That was actually just the tip of the iceberg, but he didn’t need to say more. Elizabeth looked rather abashed. Served her right for prying.

  “Do you live on campus?” Charlie asked, his gaze pinned on Jane. The guy had never once learned how to be subtle.

  “Yes,” Jane said, a pretty blush staining her cheeks. “Elizabeth and I are roommates, actually. We’re at the Longbourn dormitory.”

  They might as well be rooming on the moon. That proclamation alone told Will everything he needed to know.

  Meryton had a reputation—the sort of reputation grounded more in truth than gossip. It was twenty miles outside of New Hertfordshire, where some of the oldest families in the damn country still called home and the income discrepancy was dramatic. Many of the families, particularly those set in tradition and slow to adapt—had lost everything as the world around them changed. After the housing bubble had popped, those who had been struggling to remain ahead, or spending extravagantly with money they didn’t have in order to look like they still belonged, had long-since crashed and burned.

  But those families still sent their kids to Meryton. Some riding the school’s scholarship program, if their children were bright enough to qualify, and others taking out exorbitant student loans to keep up appearances. Second and even third mortgages taken out on old estate homes just so the neighbors didn’t gossip.

  Pride didn’t have a price for these families.

  Because Meryton was a family legacy for most of New Hertfordshire. Because more US presidents had graduated from Meryton than any other college. Because that was where the money was.

  Where New Hertfordshire’s elite still sent their eligible sons.

  Where New Hertfordshire’s struggling but prideful poor sent their daughters.

  And that was the exact reputation Longbourn dormitory had. Right or wrong, fair or not. It was the catch-all dorm for students who didn’t have rich parents to pull strings.

  “Longbourn,” Will said shortly. He tried to catch Charlie’s eye, but his friend was too enraptured with Jane.

  “Yes,” Elizabeth replied. “Why? Where are you guys?”

  The question was enough to peg her as a scholarship student rather than someone relying on loans. Student loan recipients at least knew enough to try and fake it for the first few days.

  “Netherfield Heights.”

  Something flashed in Elizabeth’s eyes. “Ah.”

  Will arched a brow. “Ah?”

  “Yes. It’s a noncommittal sound people make when they have something they want to say but aren’t sure it’s appropriate for polite company.”

  Jane’s jaw fell. She elbowed her friend hard enough to earn a croaky wheeze. “Lizzie!”

  “Ow.”

  “That was rude.”

  “So was trying to pry apart my ribs with your elbow.” She made a face and rubbed at her side. “Remind me not to panic if we ever lose the can opener. Your bones can cut through steel.”

  “What inappropriate comment did you want to make about Netherfield Heights?” Will asked.

  “Nothing,” Jane said. “She’s just kidding.”

  Elizabeth, though, wasn’t paying attention. “You guys are snobs.”

  Charlie burst out laughing, and Jane followed with a nervous titter.

  “You’re funny,” Charlie said, slapping Elizabeth hard on the back and flashing a good natured grin. “Isn’t she funny, Will?”

  “Hysterical.”

  “You guys should talk more.” Charlie seized Jane’s hand and she didn’t put up a fight. Not that Will had expected her to; if she did, she’d be the first. “Come on,” his friend said, tugging. “Let’s let them talk.”

  Jane nodded, her face brightening—either at the prospect of leaving the conversation or getting some alone-time with Charlie, or both.

  Elizabeth watched her friend disappear into a mass of people, a small smirk playing with her lips. It was, he conceded, a pleasant smirk, and a pleasant set of lips. But then, he’d known that across the room.

  What he hadn’t known when he’d been across the room? She was a pain in the ass.

  Not surprising. Somewhat disappointing. Overall, a blessing in disguise. Because if she wasn’t a pain in the ass, he might be tempted to do something stupid like ask for her number or follow Charlie’s example, and the last thing he needed was another goddamn complication.

  “I haven’t known Jane long,” Elizabeth said after a long moment. “Just long enough to understand she’s one of the nicest people on the planet. So I’m not sure if your friend is just dicking her around or not, but she isn’t the casual fuck sorta girl.”

  Will’s jaw became entangled with a sudden, embroiled battle with gravity. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m just saying. Your friend hurts my friend in any way and I’m going to become his least favorite person in the world.” She favored him with a smile. “I’ve been away for a while, but I
do remember that trust-funders rarely had anything to do with us mere mortals unless it was to get their dicks wet. And I really have no patience for that kind of thing anymore.”

  Heat flared and began straining up his neck until he thought his ears might blow steam. “Are you always this crude?”

  Her eyes—perfect, almond-shaped eyes—narrowed. “Do you always have a stick up your ass?”

  “Well, I suppose that answers one question.”

  “I’m just looking out for my friend.”

  “They’re just dancing.” Though, from the glance he stole across the room, their version of dancing was apparently simulated sex. He’d never understood how two people could go from not knowing each other’s name to ready to fuck in the span of ten minutes. Perhaps why he’d never fit in here, even with his last name credentials. “She doesn’t look like a hostage, does she?”

  “Again,” Elizabeth said, her tone annoyingly measured. “I’m just looking out for my friend.”

  “By implying mine’s an asshole.”

  “Rich boys used to getting what they want and damn the consequences. Sound familiar?”

  Will swore hotly under his breath. He needed to get away from this woman. Now.

  Though the thing that really pissed him off was that she wasn’t too far off the mark. Charlie liked everyone. Hell, he was an equal opportunity man-whore. He fell in and out of love faster than a hormonal teenager, and while he never meant to cause anyone harm or heartache, there had been the notable scorned ex or two who didn’t realize his attention was on the fleeting side. He was just so damn nice that people rarely called him on it.

  But truth had nothing on loyalty. Charlie was the best friend a man could ask for, and Will would not stand by as anyone, especially a woman he’d just met, dragged him through the mud.

  Except when he opened his mouth to fire back at her, his eyes connected with hers and his stomach dropped. He saw his own fire reflected back at him—the same drive to protect and defend—and the part of him that was hard with anger began to soften.

  He didn’t think he’d ever meet a girl here who wouldn’t go out of her way to kiss his ass.

  It didn’t help when she released a long sigh and seemed to deflate. “Look,” she said. “I’m really not some psychotic mega-bitch. Not that, you know, you’d know it from this conversation. I’m just…” She trailed off, seeming to consider her words, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

  Will forced a small smile. “I don’t think anyone could blame you for being protective.”

  “As long as protective isn’t mistaken for rabid.” Elizabeth smiled, and this time it lit up her face. Brown eyes had never stood out to him before, but there was something both mischievous and sincere in her look, more expressive and telling than anything he’d seen before.

  Elizabeth waved at the throng of writhing coeds. “You wanna…”

  “Ahh, no,” Will said shortly. The words came before his brain could catch up, so it occurred to him after the fact that he might have sounded more clipped than he intended. He couldn’t help it—it was a visceral reaction to the suggestion of entering any swarm of sweaty, half-naked people. He’d been groped a time too many, thank you very much.

  The smile that had begun to brighten Elizabeth’s face fell just as quickly. “Oh. Well, I’ll just…” She waved magnanimously. “Leave you to it, then.”

  A thousand synapses in his brain began firing at once, screaming at him to do something, say something, to clarify what he’d meant. His tongue, overwhelmed with options, was rendered motionless. He wound up staring at her as she turned and disappeared into a sea of people.

  For a few dumbfounded seconds, Will stood completely still, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Though he regretted not being more eloquent in his refusal, he couldn’t help but feel that perhaps his brain’s lack of preparation had been for the best. Because the last thing he needed—the very last thing—was to get involved now.

  His father had known returning to college would be an issue after the funeral, which was why he’d stubbornly made Will’s education a stipulation of his inheriting the Darcy Media empire. Still, the old man hadn’t known the funeral would be the easy part. He couldn’t have.

  Now that he was here, Will needed to remain focused.

  And something told him that Elizabeth, or any woman like her, would not help with that goal.

  In the end, this had to be for the best.

  2

  Ugh. She really hated this party.

  Elizabeth didn’t know who she was angrier with—herself for getting into a situation in which she could be rejected—or Will for doing the actual rejecting. It was the third random surge of uncontrollable emotion she’d experienced since Mr. Charming Pants had decided to insert himself into her conversation and begin his quest of charming the pants off Jane. Hence his name. Mr. Charming Pants.

  But that Charlie guy had at least been personable. His friend, Will, had looked like he’d rather be getting a root canal sans Novocain. His holier than thou expression throughout their entire conversation had given Elizabeth the distinct impression that he was a massive tool. Something in the way his chin seemed gravity-resistant.

  And that would have been fine—she could have laughed at that had the guy not been so much fun to look at. Elizabeth had a natural mistrust of pretty men, but Will was a step beyond pretty. He didn’t have the new penny shine that Charlie exuded, or the rather, the puppy-like enthusiasm. No, he looked…older, if not physically then certainly in spirit. Like he hated this scene even more than she did.

  He also wasn’t built like a brick-house, which was a small thing, but something she couldn’t help but admire. Elizabeth had never been the type to go gaga over beefy dudes. Muscles she liked, but not the sort that made her think the guy lived at the gym. More like Will, whose shoulders looked firm and arms defined without being obnoxious. He also sported killer cheekbones, a strong jawline, and deeply intense brown eyes that made the verbal sparring almost worth it. His hair was not super short or shaggy, and had just enough wave in it to make her think about running her hand through it.

  Which was an impulse she didn’t need or want, so she’d lashed out. But hey, at least she recognized her own bad behavior enough to try and walk it back. Even if the gesture ended up failing in a big ole way.

  It wasn’t even that he’d turned her down—Elizabeth wasn’t one to shake her groove thang anyway. Not at parties like this. Give her a hairbrush and a mirror and she could karaoke with the best of them. And she wasn’t allergic to fun, but she did have to try a bit harder when pressed from all sides by sweaty, therefore smelly, naked man-flesh. Still, she’d been known to kick back, imbibe a few, and even adapt an if you can’t beat ‘em attitude—every now and then.

  Yeah. She was a certified fun-haver.

  The crux of the insult where Mr. Tight Ass was concerned was that he hadn’t made an apology or even attempted to look rueful. It had been quick and curt, and damn her, she was human. That much did hurt.

  The jackass.

  Elizabeth got about twenty feet before realizing what she really wanted was a drink, and she’d just left the place where she might get one. Thankfully, being that it was a college party—another table wasn’t too far off.

  A few grunts, shoves, and several unwanted touches later, and she was pouring herself a liberal amount of beer, which promptly went down the pipe. Then she poured herself another.

  Perhaps she should just call it a night. After all, she’d done what she said she would. The Greggii House welcoming party was everything she’d thought it would be, and yet she’d come anyway because she liked Jane.

  Only now Jane was gone, likely in some dark corner with Charlie’s tongue stuck down her throat, and Elizabeth had polished off a beer and was considering the virtues of drunkenness.

  Yeah. Perfect way to restart her life.

  What she needed was a moment away from this party to collect herself.

  Eli
zabeth looked around for an exit point and spotted one almost instantly—a door tucked into a corner. Hopefully one that led to a room that wasn’t occupied with people fucking.

  Only one way to find out.

  She managed to get to it without getting trampled in a sea of hormones, announced herself with a tentative knock, then pushed the door open. The space behind it turned out to be a coat closet.

  Elizabeth heaved a sigh—one that she felt all the way to her toes—and pushed herself into the confined space. Shutting the door muffled some of the noise, but not enough to matter too much. She had just enough space in her brain to think.

  And pull her phone out of her bra to see if it was late enough to bail without looking like a killjoy.

  There was a text waiting for her. One from Mom.

  I don’t know how you could do this to me. You’re a hateful child.

  Elizabeth inhaled a sharp breath, hating that her first instinct was still to cry. She should be numb to this sort of thing.

  But there wasn’t enough numb in the world to soothe this ache.

  It took a moment longer to compose herself than she would have liked. Elizabeth wasn’t a fan of breaking down in public, and though most everyone on the other side of the door was too drunk to notice and unlikely to remember her if they did, the threat of being seen emotionally compromised had her combating tears longer than normal. After she was certain she wouldn’t dissolve into a blubbering mess, she stuffed her phone back into her bra, straightened her shoulders, and grabbed the closet doorknob.

  “No, Will, I’m not leaving yet.”

  And promptly froze.

  “You have a seven a.m. class,” came the reply from Snooty McSnoot. “Don’t give me that look. You all but commanded me to drag you out of here after two hours.”

  Their voices were surprisingly clear, given all the sound competition. They must have stopped right outside the door. Elizabeth held her breath.