Page 7 of #PhiThetaForever

7 Declan

The pounding won't stop. I groan and sit up—big mistake. The way of nausea hits me like a tidal wave, and I barely make it to the bathroom, sinking down to my knees, before heaving into the toilet. The smell just makes me vomit even worse. It's nothing but vodka and cinnamon. By the time I stop recking, my eyes are watering so bad I can't see, and my sides ache. Without lifting my head, I reach up and flush the toilet and then slowly sit back on my butt, my head hanging between my knees. I'm too afraid to hold my head up.

"Get in the shower, Declan. It will help with the hangover. Cool water. Not hot." Darcy's voice is exceptionally soft, but the venom and anger are still evident.

"Is that what this is? Ugh, God. This is terrible." I roll onto my knees and hold myself up on the side of the tub with my forearms, allowing my head to hang in the tub.

The shower kicks on, followed by the door clicking shut. What the hell is Darcy doing in my dorm room? I don't even know what time it is. More than likely, she found out about last night from Lena . . . oh, crap. Lena. When did she leave? How did she even get home? I can't even remember how I got home. I go to stand up, and my head spins. Damn it! Okay, shower first, and then I'll get to class and have everything smoothed over with Lena before the end of our first lecture.

I am never drinking again. Shit. We swore alcohol and drugs were off-limits. Bo just wouldn't shut up last night. It's like a nagging old lady on a mission. I figured if I had a few drinks with him, he'd shut up and leave me alone about it. I didn't mean to keep going. I don't even remember when I was technically drunk. All the events from last night are a little blurry. My teeth chatter as I stand under the cold water. I'm glad when the invisible fog clears, though, and I can think straight. I'm not as nauseous, and now, I feel guilty as hell.

What kind of guy gets drunk and forgets that his girlfriend is with him? Lena is going to kill me. I turn the shower off and reach outside the curtain to grab my towel off the hook. Stepping out, I notice shorts and a t-shirt on the edge of the sink. Looking in the mirror, I sigh and cuss under my breath. There are dark bags under my eyes, and overall, I look like trash. How the hell am I going to make this right with Lena?

Brushing my teeth, I turn and step out of the bathroom. I'm surprised at Jackson standing in front of the door. I walk toward him, planning to apologize, but just as I pass his bed, something hard hits me across the shoulders. The impact knocks me down to my knees, and the pain is almost unbearable. I turn my head to the side, but something hard that smells like vanilla connects with the side of my face. My body thumps to the floor, and a metallic taste fills my mouth.

She just bloodied my mouth. What in the hell?

"Jackson," I say in a grunt, getting up slowly on my hands and knees.

A boot connects with my ribs, and I fall to the side, clutching my mid-section. Damn, that hurts.

"Sorry, brother, but Jackson isn't here to help you." Darcy walks in front of me and kicks my legs until they're straight. Sitting up, I lean my back against the sofa in our living area and curl my arm around where she kicked me. A warm, thin trail of blood escapes the corner of my mouth, and the sting above my eye makes me think one of her rings cut the skin.

"What in the hell is the matter with you, Darcy?" My voice breaks a little, and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. The last thing I want to do is end up in tears, but I honestly don't think Darcy has ever hit me before. Even when we were at our worst. She's certainly never made me bleed before.

Straddling my legs, she crouches down so we are at eye level. "You want to hit me back, Declan?" Her voice is the kind of quiet that scares people. "Come on. You're a big college man now. You going to stand for a little-ass girl making your face look like that?" Out of nowhere, she slaps me—hard.

The entire side of my face stings, and I grit my teeth. "I've never hit a girl in my life, and I'm not going to start now."

"Oh yeah?" She slaps the opposite side of my face. "Until last night, you'd never gotten drunk and ditched your girlfriend either, but here we are."

So that's what this is? Punishment.

"I know, Darcy." My voice is barely above a mumble.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you." She slaps my face again. "What was that, dickless?" She raises her hand to hit me again, but this time, I gently grab her wrist, just enough to stop her from following through.

"I said, I know, Darcy. I fucked up, okay? I'm sorry." I can't stop the few tears that find their way down my cheeks.

She sinks down to sit on my thighs, and I let her wrist go. Less than gently, Darcy grabs either side of my face and forces my eyes to meet hers. "I don't know what got into you, but some drunk asshole trapped Lena up against a wall and tried to get sexy with her. Your friend Justus, yeah, you better thank him. He saved her ass and brought her home. And you . . . you decided to finally get drunk. Not that I'm against the occasional good time. But you forgot about your girlfriend at a frat party, Declan. She could have been assaulted. She could have been raped. Where would you have been? Doing shots in the kitchen to prove what?"

More tears fall down my face, and the lump in my throat won't let me speak.

Darcy sighs but doesn't let go of my head. "God allowed you to live through your accident, Declan. He has a purpose for you. This, this shit you're getting into with Sigma Nu . . . this isn't why He kept you around."

Darcy stands and grabs her bag off the table by the door. I watch with tears still in my eyes as she hugs Jackson, whispering in his ear before she heads out. When he shuts the door behind her, he sighs and walks over to stop in front of me. Surprisingly, he holds his hand out to help me off the floor. Standing actually hurts, thanks to Darcy.

"It's almost five in the evening, Declan. You might want to go get cleaned up and find your girlfriend."

I groan and head back to the bathroom. Darcy is right. I just messed up worse than I ever have, and I have no idea how to fix it.

8 Lena

I check my watch for the hundredth time since sitting down in the study cubicle with Justus and Candice. It turns out Justus and I have the same major, just him being two years ahead of me. Since he's taken most of the classes I'm taking, he offered to be my and Jackson's study buddy. Jackson was supposed to be here, but he and Darcy excused themselves like an hour ago and still haven't returned.

Justus's hand covers mine, his fingers curling around my hand. I look up, and my eyes meet his. "Lena, he'll show up. Relax."

I try to smile and squeeze his hand. I hope he's right. I haven't gotten so much as a text from Declan. I know he's okay because Jackson said he was dropped off, drunk as hell, at four-thirty in the morning by an even drunker Bo. I'm not sure which pisses me off more. Declan being that drunk, or Bo having the audacity to bring him home that drunk, that late at night. I sigh and remove my hand from Justus's to pick up my pen.