I…did not expect that, somehow. I mean, I should have. It’s a party, so naturally she dressed up. But from the pictures in her background check, and how she was dressed the two times I saw her, I figured her idea of dressing up was a knee-length Sunday dress. Instead, she’s wearing a tiny little shiny black pleated skirt that shows off her amazing, long, toned legs, and a shirt that while outwardly appropriate—a button-down with sleeves—is also incredibly suggestive. The outer layer is transparent. There’s a top underneath, but it’s still taunting.

I didn’t count on her making me want to grab her and pin her to the closest surface like a savage in two seconds, dammit. Tonight is supposed to be subtle. The girl is taken. She messages her boyfriend daily, FaceTimes him a few times a week. Of course, she doesn’t realize he’s been screwing a cheerleader on the side since sophomore year of high school—a girl his family wouldn’t approve of, and who’s not really interested in him other than the occasional lay, in any case. He started college two weeks back and already has three girls calling him “baby” in his inbox. But as far as Claire’s concerned, she has a boyfriend she’s committed to.

Tonight, the plan is moving one pawn up the board, not shooting for the damn queen right away.

I surprise myself when I realize I was this patient and strategic with someone I’d just met. It shouldn’t matter if I fuck it up. I should just shoot my shot, then move on, whether she says yes or no. I don’t quite get why I’m so very taken with her. Maybe it’s how she handled Octavia. Maybe it’s just that she’s exactly my type: formal, uptight, so damn pure. There’s something fascinating about immaculate, pristine wholesomeness. Makes one want to get it dirty.

Still, I didn’t expect her to make me half hard in three seconds.

I don’t immediately approach her, watching from a distance. She’s greeted curiously, cautiously. Everyone knows security checks unfamiliar faces at the door if they’re not accompanied by legacies. It’s impossible to fake our invites; they include a hidden code our guys scan for. So no one wonders if she belongs here, but they’re curious about who brought her in.

I should say them. My gaze only follows her while I get another drink and circle the room, pretending to chat with a few acquaintances, but eventually I make myself notice the other chick. She’s pretty enough, I suppose.