Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
But inside this huge frat house? Well, I’d heard that they worked hard and partied harder. And that worried me, but it wasn’t like I had a lot of options at this point.
“What about cleaning?” Bennett asked.
That was firmer territory for me. “I kept my grandfather’s house clean for the ten years I lived with him.”
“But you don’t live there anymore?” Grant asked.
“No.” He’d passed away five months ago. The house we’d lived in was a rental, and I moved out in February. Moisture flooded my lashes, and I looked away, trying to steady myself. The last thing I wanted to do was to cry in front of these polished, privileged men.
Looking anywhere but their direction, I took in the sheer size of the room. Dusting this common area alone would take hours. And the colossal house was three stories tall and likely had a basement. Probably upwards of twenty-five men lived here during the regular school year. Could I keep up with the work and still attend my classes? Then again, I had no choice. “How many guys are staying here over the summer?”
“Just a few,” Grant said, his blue eyes unfocused as he thought about it. “Six of us, really. Though others might stop by for a weekend or two.”
“Most of our brothers are traveling or interning this summer,” Bennett said. I frowned briefly. Grant was his cousin—how many other guys was he related to? Then I mentally kicked myself. He’d meant frat brothers. “We would’ve spent the summer in Washington, shadowing congressmen if it weren’t for the lectures.”
Bennett had a bossy air to him that made me think he was definitely the type to lecture. But it turned out that wasn’t what he meant.
“We’re political science majors,” Grant explained. “And there’s a famous Harvard professor giving a lecture series here this summer.” He didn’t sound resentful about not being in the nation’s capital doing rich kid stuff like Bennett did.
“What hours would I work?” I asked, trying to calculate how long it would take to cook and clean for six men plus whoever else showed up. It wasn’t like I had unlimited time this summer—people like me didn‘t have the luxury of having just one job. Plus there was my coursework, which always seemed to take me longer than my classmates.
“Well, you’ll be staying here, so you’ll be able to help out pretty much anytime, correct? Although not in the middle of the night, I suppose.” Bennett added that last part almost begrudgingly.
“We’re not going to work you 24/7,” Grant assured me with a lazy grin. He seemed more easy-going than his cousin, but neither of these men were on my side. Everything from their clothes to their posture to the way they spoke proved they came from wealthy, privileged families. And living in this huge house couldn’t have been cheap. The cars I’d seen parked out front were all top of the line.
“I’ll need mornings off,” I said.
Bennett’s face tightened, but it was Grant who spoke.
“For classes?” he asked.
His cousin scoffed. “Don’t be an idiot. No Langley student is going to take a job as a maid.”
Bennett’s voice was so confident that I hesitated to correct him. What he said was basically true. Students who could afford to attend a private college in an elite little town like Haverford weren’t hurting for money. Scholarship students, like me, were very rare.
But even among the rich and snooty classmates I’d had during my freshman year, the members of Rho Kappa Alpha stood out. They were the most powerful men among a sea of wealthy, upper class students.
What would they think of me if they knew I was a student who had nowhere to live? Who wouldn’t be able to pay for my textbooks next semester if I didn’t earn some money this summer? I didn’t want to work in a place where I was pitied and looked down on. Plus, I’d been turned down for jobs before. Most businesses in this ritzy mountain town didn’t expect students to also work, and both a bookstore owner and a restaurant manager had turned me down when they learned I was a student. Either because they thought I’d put my studies first or because they thought that a Langley student couldn’t possibly need a part-time job seriously.
“I’m not a student,” I said. The lie was surprisingly painful. I’d worked hard to get to where I was.
Grant smirked. “I knew it. Girls who go here know our reputation and steer clear. Well, except at our Friday night parties.”
Those parties were legendary all over campus, and not in a good way. I hoped, if I got the job, that I wouldn't be required to work them, but there was a more immediate concern. “I would need mornings off, though, because I have another job.”