Fate Book (11 page)

“You should come with us tonight,” Bridget said to Christy, and I immediately wondered what she meant by “us.” “There’s a welcome cocktail at the Kappa House. And let me tell you, fifty of the hottest guys on campus will be there. Dakota’s going.” She looked at me. “Aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, but more of an affirmation.

I suddenly felt nervous. Downright panicky. My experience with guys hadn’t been so positive.

Shut it, Dakota. This is what you’re here for. You can do this.

“Absolutely,” I replied. “You should come.”

Christy made an awkward little chuckle and promised she’d go next time.

As soon as she left, Bridget looked at me. “Poor thing. We’ll have to help her come out of that shell.”

I was about to say how me helping anyone was ridiculous, but I squashed that little self-deprecating thought. “Sure. Just as soon as I’m done helping you.”

She laughed. “If I became any more extraverted, I’d explode.”

I could tell that Bridget was going to be a good influence.

“All right.” She clapped her hands. “Time to get ready. Our destinies await!”

Oh God. I hope so.

~ ~ ~

10:00 p.m. Kappa House

Though we’d scored a spot the next street over, parking was impossible. Cars piled up for ten blocks, with fifty more circling the neighborhood. And now, approaching the giant beach house, bursting with students, couples hooking up, and a multitude of dudes pounding beer on the enormous porch, I felt my pulse thump away at an unhealthy pace. “Are you sure we’re invited?” I asked.

Bridget laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

I’d never been to a party-party, unless I counted the time Mandy’s mother threw a champagne fund-raiser. I didn’t drink, but I did get pretty wild with the karaoke.

“And we’re not too late?” I asked.

“You’re joking. Right? It’s just getting started. My sister was a Tri Delta, and let me tell you, the parties she took me to last year never got going until midnight.” I’d learned that Bridget grew up in L.A., but spent most weekends with her sister—a very recent UCSD grad—at the sorority house. Like me, Bridget had a working mother and absentee father, but a very cheery, pragmatic outlook on life.

I nodded. “Good to know.”

Bridget stopped and leaned in, squinting in the dark. “Are you okay, Dakota? You look…kind of pale.”

Welcome to Dakota-land. No tans. Only varying degrees of paleness
. “I’m fine.”

“Well, setting aside your terrified expression, you look hot. Hotter than hot. I’d give my right arm for that silky red hair. By the way, are those real? Not that I want to pry, but they’re huge.”

I glanced down at my chest. “Well, yeah. But they aren’t that big.”

She crinkled her brow. “Yeah. Whatever, Ms. Double D.” She snorted. “Get it? Dakota Dane? DD?”

“Cute.” I laughed politely, but what was all the fuss? They looked like normal Cs to me. Perhaps it was my strapless black blouse? A gift from Mandy. I hadn’t really felt like unpacking yet, and it had been on the top of the pile inside my suitcase, as were my jeans. Add my favorite strappy, silver, platform sandals, and this was just about as good as it got in my fashion world. God, I missed Mandy already. Sadly, she was in New York enjoying the Manhattan life without me.

I followed Bridget up the crowded steps into the large, two-story house. It was what one might expect a well-financed frat house to look like: big wraparound porch, white. Other than the loud music and Greek shit hanging in the windows, it was picture-perfect.

I passed the threshold and gazed in wonder at the lively scene—laughter, dancing, drinking. It was exactly as I’d hoped my first college party would be, except…

My eyes immediately gravitated toward a familiar face in the crowd, and I instantly knew nothing would ever be right in my life again. Not for me. Not now. Not ever.

My dream of moving on would not be fulfilled.

“Santiago?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Santiago stepped from the crowd wearing a navy-blue blazer, red tie, and tan pants, just like the other fraternity brothers who greeted guests—well, greeted girls mainly. With his messy, chin-length, almost-black hair, broad shoulders, and stubbled, angular jaw, I had to blink several times. Was he really there? This version looked older, more masculine, and more beautiful than before.

I stepped back, counter to the flow of the masses pouring inside.

“Don’t be nervous,” Bridget whispered, pulling my hand. “I know plenty of the sorority sisters who’ll be here.”

Santiago’s feral gaze pierced through the crowd like a wolf that’d just spotted a juicy rabbit. I watched helplessly as he wove through the densely packed bodies.

This can’t be happening
. “Bridget, I left something in the car.”

“It’s not safe to walk alone…” Her voice trailed off as I bolted for my car.

I would call her later and pick her up. Or something. I didn’t know. I just needed to get the hell out of there.

I glanced over my shoulder, but there wasn’t anyone other than a few people walking into the party.

“Shit, shit, shit. This can’t be happening.” I got to my car, my hands trembling wildly as I dug for the keys in my purse. “Why me? Stupid Dakota. Stupid. You’re going to ruin everything.”
He can’t be real. He can’t be.

Found ’em.

I slid inside the car, and my cell rang at the exact moment I started the engine. It was Bridget. “Hello?”

“Where did you run off to?” she asked.

“I…I…I’m not feeling well. I’m going back to the dorms to lie down. Call me when you’re ready, okay? I’ll come pick you up.”

“Dakota.” I jumped in my seat. Santiago’s dark eyes studied me through a messy mop of dark hair. “Nice to see you again,” he said in a menacingly low voice.

“Where did you come from?” I hadn’t even heard the passenger door open.

He pushed back the seat to make room for his long legs and large frame. “You should listen to your roommate, it’s not safe to walk alone at night.”

I didn’t know what to say. Was he real? Or had my mind decided that dreaming about him every single night was no longer enough. I dreamed of him standing guard outside my house, leaning on his gleaming chrome motorcycle, staring at my window while I watched him watching me. I dreamed of him kissing me, and of the heat of his body. I dreamed of him in my bed, blanketing me with his naked, hard muscles, and…

“Please tell me you’re not real,” I whispered.

He smiled in that arrogant kind of way. “Miss me that much, did you?”

Where had he gone? “Why are you back?”

He reached out and cupped my cheek, forcing me to look him straight in the eyes and triggering a flood of twisted, unwelcome emotions—fury, exhilaration, confusion. “Because you wanted me to come.”

“No. No, I didn’t.” I could feel it, the hysterics building like a geyser about to explode. “I wanted to forget about you.”

He tilted his gorgeous face to the side and studied me. His unshaved jaw worked a bit, before he parted those full lips and said, “I can see you’re going to cause me problems again.”

“Me? Cause
you
problems? Do you have any idea…”

Hell.
I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t a scared little girl anymore. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he couldn’t waltz into my life and ruin it. It was my life. “Get out. Get the fuck out of my car before I call the police.”

Completely devoid of emotion, he bowed his head. “As you wish.” He opened the passenger door and then paused. “You should know, however, that I’m not leaving you alone. So you can either make this easy or make this hard.”

No, no, no. Not again.
“What do you want?”

“To keep you safe. To make sure you live a long and happy life.”

Safe? Long and happy life. Such bullshit!
“Who are you?” I screamed.

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Have you forgotten the rule already? No questions.” He slammed the door shut.

“You think you can come floating back into my life,” I screamed at him as he stood there staring back through the window. Maybe he couldn’t hear me, but it sure felt good. “But you can’t. I have no idea who or what you are. But leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone!”

He simply stared, a condescending look on his face.

Okay. This was ridiculous. This guy had to be some crazy stalker. I picked up my cell and dialed 911. I was going to report him.
Let the police figure out who he is!

But when the phone rang, the dial tone changed from a ring to a beep and then disconnected.

I redialed and got the same result.

I stared at the phone, my mind completely boggled. I looked up, but Santiago wasn’t there.

Okay. He’d done something to my phone with his psycho-stalker powers. Fine. But he couldn’t stop me from going to the station.

I pulled out and headed toward the main avenue. Where the hell was the police station? I came to a red light and quickly searched on my phone.
Ha! Three blocks away!

Within minutes, I was turning into the lot. I grabbed my purse and…

Holy shit.

There, standing in front of the station, leaning against a signpost that said Police Parking Only, stood Santiago.
Son of a bitch! He’s a demon from hell!

Well, he couldn’t stop me from going in. I wouldn’t let him control me. No, not again.

I marched straight for him, glaring with every step. Three steps from the door, a uniformed officer stepped out. The officer handed Santiago a large white envelope and shook his hand.

“Next time, don’t wait so long to stop by,” said the officer. “You know the door’s always open.”

My mouth hung open, and I stared with disgust. He had the SDPD in his pocket, too?

“Hey, John. I’d like you to meet Dakota Dane. The young lady I told you about.”

The officer looked me over. “Is she all right? She looks a little pale?”

Santiago snickered under his breath. “She’s a bit overwhelmed with the new campus, and it’s her first time away from home.”

“Well,” said the officer to me, “just stick with Santiago here, he’ll make sure you stay out of trouble.” He slapped Santiago on the arm. “See you later.”

I couldn’t believe this.

I headed back to my car, refusing to turn around and look at those dark eyes. Likely he was smiling. Oh yes, with that mouth I wanted to punch.

I got into my red VW, put on my seat belt, and sucked in a breath. This couldn’t be happening. It just…couldn’t.

Back on the road, I ground my teeth and clenched the steering wheel so tightly that my palms burned. My rage had me completely unable to think straight. I wanted to kick that man. I wanted to jump on him and throttle his neck. I wanted him thrown in jail.

I thought about returning to the dorms, but I didn’t want to hide in my room like a prisoner in my own life, so I headed back to the party.

A night like this called for shots.

~ ~ ~

Confession time. I’d never had a drink before. Not a beer, glass of wine, or even a sip of a pink froufrou drink while my mother wasn’t looking. That’s why when Bridget handed me her red plastic cup, instructing me to wash the horrible tequila taste away, I chugged.

“Oh no, Dakota! I said wash it away, not down the entire cup.” She reached into my jean pocket and snagged my keys. “Guess you won’t be needing these.”

“Why? I only had one shot. I’ll be fine to drive in a few hours.”

“Right. You have the look of someone who’s just warming up.”

Not really. Something that tasted so bad would have no way of making the situation better. Bottom line, either I was crazy or Santiago was some sort of super-stalker with mystical powers.

Worst of all, he was right. I
had
wished him back. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, writing about him. His face. His body. His voice. Every night I dreamed of him, and no matter how angry I felt, no matter what my rational mind told me, the little part of my body that ruled my fantasies couldn’t be shut off. Now, seeing him live produced some sort of Pavlovian response. I smelled him, my mouth watered. I saw him, my body tensed in places that had no business tensing. I heard his voice, pinpricks exploded over my skin.

Yes. I knew this wasn’t normal in any way, shape, or form. I had found his picture online, claimed he was my boyfriend, and then he appeared in my life for a few days and promptly disappeared. Now he was back, and within seconds, my reality had turned into a hot, scrambled mess. Mentally and physically.

Judge me all you want, world, but there is no dancing around this. I am fucked. And no…
“A tequila shot won’t save me,” I added to myself.

“You didn’t have just one shot, you had six.” Bridget laughed.

“Huh?” My mind bounced back to the here and now, but wasn’t following.

“That cup you drank was pure tequila mixed with grenadine and a splash of pineapple.”

Oh. So I’d just chugged down an entire semester’s worth of shots. Great.

“Hey. Your cup is empty. Can I get you another?” A blond guy appeared at Bridget’s side. He looked like an eager little puppy waiting for a treat.

“Let’s dance,” she said and grabbed his hand. “You don’t mind, do you, Dakota?”

The blond guy looked at me. “You’re not
the
Dakota, are you?”

What was he talking about?

My lack of response prompted him to say my last name.

“Do I know you?” I asked.

He chuckled. “No. But we all know
you
. By now every guy in school does.” He wiggled his brows.

Oh great. I hadn’t made it past the first day, and I was already the center of a sex scandal. For the record, I’d never even made it to first base. Pure as a boring patch of snow.

The blond guy patted me on the shoulder. “Oh. It’s not that bad. I’m sure four years will go by quickly.”

“Are you drunk? What are you talking about?” Bridget asked.

“Dakota here has made the blacklist. The first girl in, like, a decade.”

“What?” I said.

“I think that’s enough, Eric.” Santiago appeared out of nowhere. “Why don’t you take Bridget to dance.”