Goddess Rising Read Online Free PDF Page B

serious all the damn time! Mirar , Jesus partied more than you with the wine and shit. I will not endure another year where it’s all books and ROTC and drills all the time. I know te crees muy muy , 3 but girl, you gotta lighten up—live a little,” Rita told her, eyes pleading. “Besides, what are you going to do? Leave me hanging to go to these parties by myself? If you don’t go, I can’t go. You know that.”
    Sam chewed her lip. Rita wouldn’t back down. And Sam really didn’t want her going to any of the frat parties on her own. That was just an invitation for trouble, especially the first big party weekend of the year. She and Rita had made a pact freshman year they would never got to parties alone. Too many opportunities for mishaps, too much potential for danger. She was in between a rock and a hard place, and Rita knew it.
    Sam crossed her arms. “I will go with you to one party—”
    “Three,” Rita rebutted.
    “ Two ,” Sam replied firmly. “And we are out of there by no later than eleven.”
    “Two a.m.”
    “Midnight,” Sam countered. “And that’s my final offer.”
    “You’ll wear a dress?” Rita asked hopefully.
    “Simmer down, hot sauce.” Sam rolled her eyes. “I’ll wear what I usually wear— jeans .”
    “Then I get to do your makeup.”
    “Dear God, fine ,” Sam sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”
    *
    August—Friday Night, a Few Hours Later
    Sigma Tau Fraternity House, College Station, Texas
    S A M A N T H A
    The Sig Chapter House was a massive brick structure with gaudy neoclassical touches that would have horrified the true Greeks. It was jam-packed full of sweaty, writhing, beer-soaked underclassmen scented with body spray, patchouli, and several layers of smoke—some layers pure nicotine, and others, well, not . Sam wondered briefly if she’d be getting a contact high.
    Music blared from big, black speakers stacked on top of each other like robotic towers, and the house was covered in enough strobe and blinking Christmas lights to induce a seizure. People flowed in and out of the building, spilling drinks, pawing at each other, laughing, and shouting greetings as they squeezed passed people dancing inside or mingling on the deck outside.
    Sam never understood the appeal of frat parties. She’d rather drink good shit under the stars any day of the week than have some jackass rub up against her like a frisky dog. But she loved Rita, and there was no way in hell she was leaving her alone in this frenetic, pheromone-induced debauchery. She glanced down at her watch. First party down; this one was the last to go. She’d give Rita maybe another twenty minutes before dragging her out.
    “Dance with me.”
    Sam suppressed an eye-roll before turning around to shut down whatever drunken idiot was propositioning her now. But the tall blonde grinning at her wasn’t drunk. Plus, she recognized him.
    “Chris Fields,” he introduced, blue eyes hopeful. Chris had the even-featured good looks of a farm boy and the adorable aw-shucks grin to match. Even his blonde hair stuck up adorably, like he had a couple of cowlicks he couldn’t quite tame.
    Sam tilted her head back as she considered him. She had to. He was a big beast of a boy. Easily 6’5” with broad shoulders and hands the size of dinner plates. Made sense for a guy who could be drafted into the NFL one day. A linebacker, for sure.
    “We’ve got Criminal Psychology together,” she said by way of introduction, surprising him. “You’re a football player, right?”
    His smile moved from damn-you-make-me-nervous to yeah-right-baby-that’s-me . Chris stood a little taller, reflecting his pride at being recognized off the field. “You’re Samantha Wyatt, right?”
    “Got it in one,” she nodded, a little surprised he recognized her. She wasn’t exactly known for being social. “You a member of this house?”
    “Nah,” Chris shook his head, moving closer. “Just know a bunch of them. We