Chapter 3

The dorm door swung open, and my best friend, Marty Jenkins, walked in.

"What won't you need?" he asked, clapping me on the shoulder.

"Nothing. Just a package I'm returning."

I pushed his hand away and turned around, but Marty sidled up to me again with a grin.

"So, Shane, how was the concert? You took Natasha today, so next time you have to take me. You promised you'd never ditch your bros for a girl."

He sounded so sincere, as if he had no idea what had happened at the concert. I stared at his smiling face, and for a moment, was not sure what to believe.

An hour ago, someone in the group chat had written, [Shane acts like some rich kid without the bank account to back it up. Only Natasha could knock him down a peg. So satisfying.]

Was that really him?

Marty and I had been friends since high school. His family was poor, so to protect his pride, I had never mentioned my own family's wealth.

That habit carried over into college. No one knew that the Corwell in Corwell Group, the most prominent company in the area, was the same Corwell as Shane Corwell.

While I was lost in thought, my phone buzzed with a message from Natasha.

It was the address of a karaoke bar, followed by [10 pm. It's my best friend's birthday. Don't be late.]

Her tone was so matter-of-fact, as if she were certain that nothing that had happened today would stop me from catering to her every whim.

I was about to delete the message when Marty jumped up excitedly.

"This is great, Shane! Natasha's introducing you to her friends. That means she's serious about you! Come on, let's head over right now!"

"I don't want to go," I said coldly.

Marty refused to let it go. "Shane, don't be like that. You're crazy about Natasha. You finally got this far, so how can you give up so easily? Besides, I heard the Stanwicks are a big deal around here. As long as you lock Natasha down, you'll be set for life!"

With that, Marty dragged me out the door and called a cab to the karaoke bar.

When I pushed open the door to the private room, I saw Natasha sitting with Lincoln.

The little princess who had never lifted a finger in her life was carefully peeling a tangerine for him.

She meticulously picked every white string of pith off each segment before bringing it to Lincoln's lips.

Lincoln seemed to be sulking and turned his head away, refusing to eat it.

Natasha hooked her arm through his and pouted sweetly until he finally turned back and ate the segment.

She smiled as if she had accomplished something incredible, pride written all over her face.

Only after she had fed Lincoln the entire tangerine did she notice me standing in the doorway.

"You're here. Have a seat." She gestured carelessly to a spot in the corner.

I turned to leave, but Marty stopped me again.

"Shane, don't be like that. It's your first time meeting her friends. Take it slow. There’s no need to rush."

Marty pulled me down into the corner, where we watched the crowd party in front of us.

Lincoln stood at the center of it all and joined every game, yet he lost every round and racked up a pile of drinks.

"Linc, hurry up and finish your drinks, or we can't keep playing!" someone urged.

Before he could say anything, Natasha picked up a glass. "Linc's stomach is bothering him today. I'll drink for him."

Everyone was used to it and shouted, "Tash always looks out for Linc!"

Natasha downed several drinks in a row, and her face turned a little pale.

Lincoln wrapped an arm around her in concern. "What's wrong?"

"I feel a little sick." Natasha blinked up at him.

Lincoln took the glass from her hand. "Then stop. Someone else can drink instead."

His gaze swept the room and landed on me. "Hey, Shane-something. Aren't you Tash's boyfriend? You drink for her."

"I don't—" Before I could finish refusing, Marty shoved me forward.

"Shane, this is your chance. Make it count!"

I stumbled into the middle of the crowd, and one of Natasha's friends held a glass right up to my mouth.

One drink became ten, then 20. When I could not take any more and waved them off, someone threw an arm around my shoulders, grabbed my arm, and poured it straight down my throat.

Lincoln smiled as he watched me struggle. At some point, Marty had slipped over to his side, and the two of them were laughing and chatting.

In the end, they forced 50 drinks down my throat, and my stomach burned as if it were on fire.

I slumped to the floor, my clothes half soaked through, a complete mess.

Natasha looked down at me and said coldly, "That's enough, Shane. Look at yourself. Go clean up and stop embarrassing me."