Bad Rep
Page 64

I seriously questioned why I was still apart of Chi Delta when it was so obvious I wasn't wanted there. When I brought this up to Gracie and Vivian, they both staunchly refused to hear what I was saying. “You are a Chi Delt! Don't you dare let them make you feel any different! Olivia is out of here after this year and next year will be all about us!” Gracie argued. Vivian had nodded adamantly.
“This will blow over. I promise you,” Vivian assured me.
That's what they always said. And so far, that day when it would all be behind me, had yet to come. Though, I never called them on their well-intentioned bullshit. Because, I didn't think Olivia would just get over what had happened. She and Jordan had been together for three years and I understood her feelings of hurt and betrayal. And I knew without a doubt that she loved Jordan. I just wish I could stop feeling like Kelly Taylor splitting up Dylan and Brenda. Oh crap, I was totally Kelly! I hated Kelly!
My own feelings of shame and guilt were burning a hole through my heart. I was ready to pull my hair out by Saturday night. I had promised Jordan I'd come to the Generation Rejects gig at Dave's Tavern but I was so anxious I felt like I would come out of my skin. Riley had agreed to come along so I wouldn't have to go by myself. Gracie and Vivian were busy doing sisterhood stuff. Sisterhood stuff that I hadn't been privy to. Gracie had assured me that it was just planning for the upcoming Ball Blast, the semi-formal Chi Delta hosted every November. Whatever, I knew I was left out on purpose.
So I found myself in my room, twenty minutes before we had to leave, trying to decide on what to wear. I was dangerously close to calling Jordan and plead some sort of illness that required me to spend the evening in bed, when Riley knocked on my door. “Come in,” I called out, throwing a pair of black heels across the room.
“Woah, Babe Ruth, watch it!” She dodged another pair of shoes that I hurled as she walked in. I sighed in frustration and sat down on the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest. “Is that what you're wearing?” Riley asked, indicating my sweat pants and torn t-shirt. I couldn't help but laugh.
“Why, you don't think I look hot in this? I thought I'd try and bring sleep deprived college student back as a legitimate style. What do ya think?”
Riley pulled on my ponytail. “Well, I guess the coffee stains and torn elastic could be considered trashy chic.” We laughed together.
“I can't find anything to wear, Riley. I mean what do you wear to a biker bar?” Dave's was a pretty rough place to go. I had heard of numerous stabbings there over the years. I had never dared to venture to Dave's myself, but I had been told it was pretty hard core.
“Come on, you've got to have some black leather in there somewhere.” Riley peered into my closet.
“Actually...” I got to my feet and dug around in the pile of clothes on the floor and pulled out a short red leather mini skirt that I had gotten for the Chi Delta “Biker Babes Bash” last spring. Riley gave me a thumbs up.
“That's more like it!” She enthused. I found a black halter top with a collar and open sleeves and then pulled out my black ankle boots to finish the ensemble. Okay, I felt better. Nothing like a killer outfit to pull me out of my doldrums.
“Now get dressed, the band goes on in thirty minutes. There isn't enough time for your marathon primping. Just hurry up,” Riley told me blandly. I waved her out of my room and went about making myself look bikerlicious. When I was done (in record time, I might add), I took in my reflection and had to admit that I looked damn hot. Hell, I'd do me if I could.
I had put my hair up in a teased ponytail on the top of my head and left some chunky strands around my face. I did my makeup a little heavier than normal, rimming my eyes in dark liner. My lips were a deep, but I thought kissable, red. The tight mini skirt and even tighter top made my body look awesome. The whole process of getting ready to go out had done wonders for my spirit. I found I was looking forward to my evening. Ready to go see my man's band and enjoy hanging out with people who weren't there to judge or look down on me for my choices.
Tonight was supposed to be my first time hanging with Jordan's band mates. Garrett was having a party at his house after their gig. Jordan warned that they usually got a little wild. I hadn't really met the band yet, but Jordan had assured me that they were nothing like his brothers in Pi Sig. These were a bunch of guys who didn't do the whole college scene. It was a little weird how Jordan had these two totally different lives. On one end you have Jordan #1. Mr. Pi Sig, the most popular guy at Rinard College. On the other, there was Jordan #2. The hardcore rocker who played music and went crazy with a bunch of townies. I wasn't sure what to expect with Jordan #2. But I was excited to find out.
Riley had promised she'd come too. That made me feel better. She and Damien had been attached at the hip lately and I was with Jordan constantly. Our friendship had its ebbs and flows, but we had never gone this long without spending time together. I missed her.
We got to Dave's with only ten minutes to spare. The place was packed. I had gotten my obligatory underage stamp on my hand. I intended to wipe it off using the small container of salt I had brought in my bag for such an occasion. This crowd was quite different than the ones I was used to. I didn't make it a habit of hanging out in biker bars and as I took in the scary looking dudes and even scarier looking women, I knew why.
Riley pushed her way through the crowd to a table near the back. Damien had saved us a spot and we sat down, taking it all in. “Hey ladies. Lookin' fine as always,” Damien yelled over the noise. Damien was cute in a math geek with an edge sort of way. He wore black framed glasses and had messy brown hair that fell nicely over his forehead. What was most important was the way he looked at my best friend. I knew love when I saw it and that was what was painted all over both of their faces. It warmed my heart.