Bad Neighbors (Loved by Three #2) 1st

Edition Evie Rae

Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://textbookfull.com/product/bad-neighbors-loved-by-three-2-1st-edition-evie-rae/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Bloodwood Academy Semester Three Exiled World Bloodwood

Shifter Book 3 1st Edition Rae Foxx Foxx Rae

https://textbookfull.com/product/bloodwood-academy-semester-
three-exiled-world-bloodwood-shifter-book-3-1st-edition-rae-foxx-
foxx-rae/

a Little Bad Big Bad Wolves Book Three 1st Edition

Queenie Wise [Wise

https://textbookfull.com/product/a-little-bad-big-bad-wolves-
book-three-1st-edition-queenie-wise-wise/

Three Little Graves the Big Bad Wolf M M Crumley

https://textbookfull.com/product/three-little-graves-the-big-bad-
wolf-m-m-crumley/

Puppy Love A small town romance 1st Edition Evie

Mitchell Mitchell Evie

https://textbookfull.com/product/puppy-love-a-small-town-
romance-1st-edition-evie-mitchell-mitchell-evie/
Smokin Cowboys Loved By Three 1 1st Edition Poppy Flynn

https://textbookfull.com/product/smokin-cowboys-loved-by-
three-1-1st-edition-poppy-flynn/

Staying Alive 1st Edition Toby Neighbors

https://textbookfull.com/product/staying-alive-1st-edition-toby-
neighbors/

Genie and the Shadow Kings Claimed By Three 1 1st

Edition Gina Manis

https://textbookfull.com/product/genie-and-the-shadow-kings-
claimed-by-three-1-1st-edition-gina-manis/

Finn Noel The Bloodwood Academy 3 5 1st Edition Rae

Foxx Foxx Rae

https://textbookfull.com/product/finn-noel-the-bloodwood-
academy-3-5-1st-edition-rae-foxx-foxx-rae/

Curves By Demand Big Girls Love Bad Boys 1 1st Edition

Summer Rose Rose Summer

https://textbookfull.com/product/curves-by-demand-big-girls-love-
bad-boys-1-1st-edition-summer-rose-rose-summer/
 For Chelley Schultz and her amazing eyes.
This book would be in File 13 if not for you.
 AUTHOR NOTE

Hello, lovely readers,

As a multi-genre author, I love dipping my toes in many different

genres. I love exploring different tropes, and thinking about how I
can handle them differently from things I’ve read in the past. I’ve
had a particular fascination with reverse harem for years, ever since
reading my first ones (Tate James, Jaymin Eve, B.L. Brunnemer, Jane
Washington… I’m looking at you), and am so excited to be working
on a couple right now.

The dynamic of a single woman with several men is such an

intriguing perspective on the ability of women to rule… not with iron
fists or weaponry, but with their very female-ness. To me, these
stories celebrate feminism in a unique and powerful way. I hope to
see them continue to evolve and develop.

May you all enjoy exploring RH as much as I did! I hope to hear

from you in my reader’s group and in reviews.

Love,
Evie Rae
 Bad Neighbors
Copyright ©2021 by E.R. Whyte
All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written
permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it
to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission,
except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters,

and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s
imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
events or localities is entirely coincidental.
 Bad Neighbors
A Reverse Harem Romance

By E.R. Whyte
 Also by the Author
As E. R. WHYTE: Contemporary
RECLAIMING HEAVEN SERIES
Say You Love Me
Say You’ll Be Mine
In Lies We Trust

Irish Heir (releasing soon)

Remember Me

As EVIE RAE: Reverse Harem

Bad Neighbors
Beastly Bullies

As ELLE RAE WHYTE: Contemporary Sweet

Romance

ONLY IN OCRACOKE SERIES

Just a Crush
Just a Neighbor
Just a Friend
 Loved by Three is a 7 book collection,
featuring Poppy Flynn, Evie Rae, Crimson Syn, Sarwah Creed, Karine
Saint Jacques & Debbie Hope

A collection of Contemporary standalone novels in a variety of

tropes:
Romantic Suspense |Cowboy | Romantic Comedy | New Adult | High
School | MC | SEALs | Bully | Neighbors | Sports

There is something for every reader in this amazing reverse

harem series!

Smokin’ Cowboys
Buy now! - getbook.at/smokin_cowboys

Bad Neighbors
Buy now! - books2read.com/BadNeighbors

Triple Puck Players

Buy now! - https://books2read.com/u/mvnEyX

Tangled Web
Buy now! - https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08TP962K7

Sexy SEALs
Buy now! - https://geni.us/3Wxor

Beasty Bullies
Buy now! - books2read.com/BeastlyBullies

Wicked Stepbrothers
Buy now! - https://books2read.com/u/mBoYLk
 Chapter 1: Jude

My feet pounded on the gritty country road, bright pink shoes

blurring against the gray of the pavement. I had woken this
afternoon determined to clear my head of the shit storm my life had
become, but not even the endorphins created by my exertion were
doing the trick.
I couldn’t outrun all the problems that plagued me.
Up ahead, the turnoff for the small farmhouse I was currently
living in came into view. I slowed to a walk, pausing to grab the mail
from the dented box posted beside the gravel driveway. From here
to the house it was another half-mile walk, perfect for a thorough
cool-down.
I slogged along the rutted drive that was more a trail than
anything remotely acceptable for a vehicle, enjoying the feel of the
late autumn sun on my skin. The days were already starting to grow
shorter and darker earlier; it wouldn’t be long before fall and then
winter set in with a vengeance. I’d have to find somewhere to run
inside when that happened. My asthma made running in cold
weather an exercise in pain.
As I walked, I flipped through the envelopes in my hand. Bill.
Magazine—they obviously didn’t know we weren’t paying the
subscription any longer. Letter from Dad’s attorney. That one made
me grit my teeth. I was so sick of hearing about Dad, from Dad,
from his lawyer… he needed to leave us alone and let us try to pick
up the pieces, already. He’d done enough damage.
The next envelope paused my forward motion. Chandler
University’s housing department. I’d applied for grant housing on
campus to go with my academic scholarship; this would be the
notification one way or the other. I held the envelope tight to my
chest, and closed my eyes.
God. It’s me, Jude. If you’re still up there, I could use
something good right about now.
Finished with my impromptu prayer, I opened my eyes, fixing
them on the house standing several yards in front of me before
walking forward slowly and sitting down on the top porch step.
Up until around six months ago, we’d lived in our family home in
Manhattan. I’d been about to start my final year at Columbia and my
sister Eleanor had been enrolled as a freshman in one of the city’s
finest secondary academies. We’d lived in a penthouse and had a
driver and a cook. We had taken it all for granted.
Until, that is, our Wall Street mogul father ended up being
indicted for money laundering and embezzlement, and the city of
New York taught us a thing or two about the fleeting nature of
wealth and the longevity of a New Yorker’s memory.
Dad went to prison, Mom disappeared, and since tuition hadn’t
been paid, Eleanor and I were both relieved of our school
acceptances. I had lucked out enough to find this place, which while
short on glamour was good enough to be considered ‘home’ by child
welfare services when the time came. Eleanor was currently being
fostered by an uncle that gave us both the heebie-jeebies, but I
knew I needed to get her out of that place as soon as possible.
Despite this place being a dump compared to the luxury my
sister and I had come from, it was home sweet home at the
moment, and something about its rough edges appealed to me. It
reminded me of an aging woman in dishabille. Still beautiful, but
timeworn, with wrinkles and scars to testify to the life she’d lived.
I wanted to restore it to its former grace, make it a home. Make
the kitchen its heart, fix the wraparound porch so there was a place
to sit in the evening and watch the sunset. And I’d need to find
some routine pest control. Just this morning I had come face to face
with one of those huge wolf spider creatures hanging out on my
kitchen floor. Apparently they liked to come inside when the
temperatures at night grew cooler and the days were still pleasant.
No. Just… no.
 Jude Tiernay didn’t do spiders.
Spiders were evil, wicked, creepy looking things and just
thinking about the one this morning made me shiver in repulsion. I’d
looked for a blow torch to kill it, but since none were handy I’d had
to use a shoe attached to the end of a broomstick. I’d stood on my
kitchen table and brought the shoe down upon it as though I were
spear-fishing a shark, gagging when I heard the crunch. The shoe
was currently in my yard and I wasn’t planning on bringing it back
anytime soon.
Even with the spider, I loved the potential of the little house. I
sighed and tapped the envelope on my knee, afraid to open it and
read its contents. I only wished it was closer to my new university.
The envelope in my lap basically held my future. I had
transferred to Chandler to be near Eleanor. It was both the closest
university to where our uncle lived and the only one offering me a
scholarship. It was still, however, more than an hour away. For the
past month, I’d been driving three hours daily to go to school in the
morning and my nearby waitressing job at night. I arrived on
campus early in the morning for my first class of the day, stalked the
cafes and library all day, went to work at Sugar Babes, then returned
home late at night, usually arriving well past midnight. Then I’d get
up the next morning and do it all over again.
I gripped the envelope tight in my hand. I couldn’t keep it up
for much longer. The grant would make it feasible for me to live on
campus during the week and come to the farmhouse on the
weekend. I wouldn’t be available to Eleanor as much during the
week, but we could make that work.
My fingers trembled as I slid one beneath the flap and peeled it
up. Nausea roiled in my belly, the product of a chronically nervous
stomach. damnit, I was going to puke before I read it at this rate.
Determined, I opened it all the way and removed the single
sheet of paper, scanning the paragraphs swiftly.

Dear Ms. Tiernay,

 We are pleased to offer you the Chandler University Housing
Grant for school year 2021-2022.

Yes! My fist shot into the air and I happy-danced my feet on the
wooden step beneath them. I’d gotten it! Relieved tears spilled over
to my cheeks.

This grant provides for housing in the Bueller Dorm

consisting of a private room within a quad with the roommates
listed below. The grant is contingent upon grades remaining
consistently in the top ten percent of all university attendees,
standards for which are listed on the reverse.

There were several other paragraphs concerning my access card

and amenities, but I skimmed over those to study the names of my
roommates.
Galen . Ezra . Baron .
Was it just me, or did these look like guys’ names? A low throb
of anxiety started in my chest. Nononono…there had to be some
mistake! Why was I in a men’s dorm?
The answer struck me almost as quickly as I asked myself the
question. My name. Jude was not a typical name for a female. The
housing department had just… gotten their wires crossed. Easily
fixed.
Right?
I bit my lip and looked out across the fields that were owned by
my nearest neighbor. Mr. Chester had acreage totaling somewhere in
the five hundred acre ballpark, he had told me, with some of the
prettiest views in Cold Spring. I wasn’t seeing his acreage at the
moment, though. I was seeing this grant disappearing as quickly as
it had arrived. Should I call the school to alert them to the mix-up?
It could go one of several ways. If they cared about a woman being
in the men’s dorm, they could transfer me to a women’s dorm. But
what if there were no spaces available in the women’s dorms? The
application and vetting process had taken months, compounded, no
doubt, by the fact that we were already a month into the school year
and most of the grants had already been awarded. What were the
chances that another dorm would be available? Would I lose the
grant?
I stood up and walked inside the house. It wasn’t a risk I was
willing to take. I would just have to convince my new roommates
that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Glancing down at the names once more, I took a deep breath.
How hard could it be?
Inside, I headed for the shower. I had three hours before I had
to be at Sugar Babes for work, and I wanted to call Eleanor and give
her the news. I had to pack, too, because tonight would be the last
time I’d be driving the hour back home at midnight. Tomorrow
morning when I woke up far too early to make the trip back to
campus, it would be with the knowledge that I’d be sleeping there
that night. It was fast, but since the semester had already started
the letter had stated I could move it whenever I was ready.
Excitement gripped me at the idea.
I showered swiftly and threw on a pair of panties and tee shirt
to pack in. My uniform at Sugar Babes was a variation on the
naughty schoolgirl look, with a short navy and green plaid skirt that
hung low on my hips and just barely cleared my ass, and a top that
was basically a bra masquerading as a white button-up. I wouldn’t
put that on until I absolutely had to.
While I packed the essentials that would be going to Chandler
with me—clothes, books, a quilt and my treasured silky blanket—I
put the phone on speaker and called my sister.
“Hey.” Her voice was a whisper. “I’m in class, doof-ass.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry, Lens. I’ll text.”
“K.”
She hung up and I sat cross-legged on the bed to message her.

Grant came through. Official resident of Bueller Dormitory

starting tomorrow!

LensBaby: OMG! Can you have a party and invite me?

 No fewer than thirty praying hands accompanied her reply,
making me snort.

Not a snowball’s chance, babe.

LensBaby: [crying face emoji]

Everything okay with the uncle?

LensBaby: I’m fine no worries

I chewed on my lip. She wasn’t fine. Uncle Rick hadn’t done

anything overt yet, but the hair on my arms stood up when he was
near. I’d learned to trust my instincts, and those instincts said he
was not a good man.
I’d done all I could at the moment, though, without getting
myself arrested. Eleanor had an aluminum Louisville Slugger beside
her dresser and a can of mace beneath her pillow. I had to trust that
she would take care of herself if the time came.

Get back to work. Love you.

LensBaby: if you loved me you’d invite me to a frat party…

I’m not in a frat, doof-ass

The texts stopped, indicating that Eleanor had put her phone
away as ordered.
I looked at my Apple watch, one of the few items of any value
other than my car that I’d kept after we’d lost our home and virtually
every other thing we had. I had planned on selling the car and
buying something cheap, but then realized that with the constant
driving back and forth I would need something reliable. Thankfully, it
had been in my name and hadn’t been seized with most of our other
possessions. The remaining odds and ends—some photos, a few
family heirlooms, some seasonal clothing—were in storage until we
needed them.
 The watch was a necessity with my asthma and running,
monitoring my blood oxygen level and sending nudges when
something was off. Right now it was telling me that I needed to get
my butt dressed and on the road, or I would be late for work.
And as much as I hated the whole naughty schoolgirl thing, the
money it earned was very, very nice.
 Chapter 2: Baron

Sugar Babes was insane tonight. I shouldered my way through to

the table the hockey team had commandeered, wondering what the
hell was happening to make it so busy. It was a Sunday, for shit’s
sake. I rarely hung out at bars, but I was forcing myself to tonight,
for the sake of my thesis project. It was still in the early stages of
development, but I was doing something on the psychology of
dating in a modern age—very interesting since I was an utter failure
at it. I just needed to make it unique and compelling in some way.
The crowd parted easily for my wide frame. “Yo, Baron.” Adam,
our left defenseman, hailed me with a raised hand. With a grunt of
greeting, I dropped into the seat he had held empty and glanced
around.
“What the hell is up with this place tonight?”
He took a swallow of his beer and leaned in closer. “I heard
there’s gonna be a bar dance or something. You know, like in that
cowboy movie?”
It was before my time, but I knew what he was talking about.
My boyhood nanny had a fascination with it, and I remember
sneaking in to watch the scenes where the girls stomped and kicked
on top of a bar. “Yeah, that’s good stuff.” My eyes roved the room,
filled with college-aged guys and waitresses clad in skimpy
schoolgirl-style uniforms, and my mouth curled in a smile. I didn’t
party too much, but I’d picked a good night to hang out. It was a
shame Ezra and Gale were busy; they’d have appreciated the sights
as much as I did. “Where’s our waitress, man? I need a beer.”
Adam looked around and pointed out a woman a few tables
away. “That’s her.” I wasn’t sure how I’d missed her. She was tiny in
stature but, like most of the women that worked here, she was built.
She had blond hair with pink tips, and was holding a tray above her
head while nodding at something a guy was saying to her. The tray
was loaded with several drinks, creating a swell of muscle in her arm
and along the strip of torso turned towards me. Her expression was
annoyed, and I realized the guy holding her attention was speaking
to her chest instead of her face. As I watched, she held her free
hand, index finger extended, in front of her chest. When his eyes
snagged on it, she lifted it slowly up to her face, his dazed eyes
following.
I snorted out a laugh. She walked off a few seconds later,
placing the drinks on her tray down at the table beside ours before
coming to us.
“How are you guys doing? Need any refills?”
I held up a finger. “Something on tap, please.”
She nodded and began placing empties on her tray, working her
way around to where I was seated. “I.D.?”
Shifting in my seat to tug my wallet from my back pocket, I let
my eyes travel down her form. Up close she was all stunning
Icelandic beauty, pale skin and hair, icy blue eyes. I felt interest stir,
surprising me. I hadn’t been genuinely attracted to anyone since
Skylar dumped me last year after I’d made it plain I had no interest
in the money my parents kept putting in my bank account. “Haven’t
seen you around here before.”
Adam coughed into his hand. “Lame.”
“I’ve been here a few months now,” she replied, ignoring Adam
and taking the license from my hand to study the date. “…Baron.”
She handed it back to me, eyes cool. Not unfriendly… just…
disinterested. “House IPA okay?”
“I’m easy.” The double entendre, coupled with the stare I hadn’t
turned off, didn’t go unnoticed. She leaned a bit closer, as if she was
having trouble hearing me. This close, I could smell a subtle vanilla
scent as her hair brushed my cheek and swallowed as my dick
twitched.
“I’m not.”
Beside me, Adam heard and groaned. “He crashes and he
burns,” he murmured.
 The waitress was straightening when someone stumbled by and
bumped her, either inadvertently or on purpose, I couldn’t tell. I was
too busy catching her when she fell solidly against me, her arms
outstretched to grab the tray of empty glasses and bottles that
careened in slow motion to the floor behind me.
I grabbed a boob. Didn’t mean to, but there it was, in my face
and in my hand. My other hand was on the skin of her waist bared
by the top and skirt. Hurriedly I moved the hand on her boob, but
only managed to place it on her ass. Intentional? Even to myself, I
pleaded the fifth. Her hands dropped the tray and pushed against
my shoulders in a frantic bid to right herself, but with me holding her
all she succeeded in doing was falling more completely against me.
I held her there for a minute as chaos reigned around us,
breathing in her heat and fluster as she struggled for release. Then I
stood and set her gently down, noting once again how short she
was. She barely came to my pecs. She glared up at me, tugging her
skirt down in an attempt to cover that ass.
“Very gentlemanly of you to grope me,” she hissed.
“Very ladylike of you to climb me like a tree,” I shot back,
amusement warring with indignation. I’d caught her, damnit.
Another waitress came over and began picking up the mess
behind me. “You okay, babe?”
“Fine. Thank you,” she said, and squatted to help. The view
when she did so…sweet baby Jesus. My dick was a steel pipe in
seconds. Her ass was a dream, and I could just imagine my
handprint on it. Biting my knuckle, I turned away.
“I’ll be back,” I muttered to Adam, and strode away toward the
bathrooms, ignoring his chuckle.
Bypassing the bathrooms, I exited an employee entrance into
an alley and breathed deeply of the crisp air and quiet. I hated
crowds. If this project hadn’t been hanging over my head, I wouldn’t
have even come out tonight. It was the perfect place, though, to
observe customary dating rituals.
Templing my fingers, I held them to my forehead and tried to
pace my agitated lust away. When a random girl got me twisted up
with only a few snarky words and a tight body, it was obvious I’d
gone too long without sex. Girls always wanted a relationship, and I
hadn’t wanted to bother with any of that bullshit after Sky, but my
need now was making me feel faintly ridiculous. It didn’t help that I
wasn’t entirely… vanilla… in my tastes. I was a nice guy, but I
enjoyed my sex a little dirty, and it wasn’t always easy to find the
right partner for that sort of thing.
The door opened and I paused in my pacing to watch as the
newfound object of my obsession backed into the alley, pulling a
trolley stacked with flattened and tied boxes. Not noticing me, she
wheeled it in the opposite direction a few feet, then started to push
the boxes from the base of the cart, struggling a little with their
weight. I stepped forward to help, because despite her benign
neglect, my mother had raised me to be a gentleman. Or, at least,
the nannies had.
“Here, let me.”
She startled, her mouth forming a perfect O of surprise, before
gathering herself. “I’ve got it, thanks.” I ignored her and toed the
boxes off and against the wall. She looked at me and the quiet,
empty alley. “What are you doing out here? This is an employee-only
spot.”
I grunted. “It’s an alley.”
“It’s Sugar Babes’ alley.”
“What’s your name, Pinky?” I changed course. She was an
argumentative little thing.
“Nunya.” She started to walk back inside, and I grabbed her arm
before I thought about it, releasing her when she gave me an icy
look.
“It’s only fair,” I said, shoving my wayward hand in my pocket.
“You know mine.”
“Occupational hazard.”
My lips twitched reluctantly, and I allowed her to leave when
she turned again to stalk away, watching the twitch of her skirt
broodingly. I guessed Pinky would have to do for now, but I
comforted myself with the knowledge that there would be a ‘later.’
As much as I hated the idea, If I had to come sit in this bar every
night for the next month, I’d learn her name.
 And once I learned her name, I’d learn how she liked to be
kissed, and then I’d move on to how she liked to be touched. And
then I’d show her how I liked to kiss, and liked to touch. Because in
the space of minutes, between one evasion and the next, this pink-
haired creature had started an itch that she was going to have to
scratch.
 Chapter 3: Gale

“I can’t believe Housing is sticking us with a new fucking roommate

nearly two months into the semester. What the hell is that all
about?” Baron yanked a pair of sweats from his pile of laundry,
sniffed, and started pulling them on. “I hope they don’t expect me to
fucking chat and shit.”
“Just grunt as per usual,” Ezra said. Baron’s reserve was an
ongoing joke between us. The only people he really talked to were
us. We’d used him as a buffer with the occasional girl who couldn’t
take a hint several times. After an hour of talking to his stoic,
disinterested face, even the most obtuse figured out they were
done. “God, you’re disgusting.” Ezra shook his head at Baron from
where he stood in the doorway of his room. “Do you ever wash your
clothes?”
“I’ve only worn these once, Martha Stewart.”
I rolled my eyes against their bickering and sank deeper into the
sofa, pulling my headphones over my ears to drown them out. It
was nothing new. They were like an old married couple, which made
sense considering we’d been in high school together and then had
been sharing a quad dorm since we were freshman here at Chandler
U. We’d only ever had a fourth roommate in that first year, and the
dude hadn’t lasted long. No one wanted to be stuck with the three
of us.
We tended to be assholes.
Although, if I were honest, it was just me that was the asshole.
Baron Elias Whitmore was the classic benignly neglected child of
American royalty, the product of actress Susannah Redmon and
Texas oil privateer Jonah Whitmore. He’d grown up with nannies and
in a series of private schools while his parents worked to get richer,
everything he wanted provided as long as his reasons were valid.
His parents were pretty damn cool, on the whole. They’d
trusted and valued his opinions enough to allow him to attend public
school when he made that choice, and later to adopt me when we
were juniors, giving me safety and all the creature comforts I could
imagine.
And Ezra Titus Moore didn’t mean to be an asshole. He was just
in his head all the time, solving equations and inventing more to
solve when they were finished. The son of a wealthy trust fund
gambler and a hooker who had died when he was a baby, Ezra had
cut his milk teeth on poker matches and had been banned in every
casino on the east coast for his frightening ability to count cards. He
was brilliant.
But me… I was a legitimate asshole, mostly because I’d been
fostered to be one. My parents had likely been decent people, but
since I didn’t have enough good memories of them, I got to choose
who I modeled myself after. Every foster family I’d been part of from
the age of seven had been built by negligence and fueled by greed.
Until I met Baron and he convinced his parents to adopt me, I hadn’t
had a real friend or someone who cared about my welfare since I
was little.
If I was into that kind of shit, I’d say it was almost fate that we
had met at all. Baron’s parents were rich as Croesus, but almost
hippy-ish in their handling of it and their son. Provided he had well-
argued reasons, they allowed Baron to make his own decisions for
the most part. Baron had no desire to be set apart by his wealth. He
wanted to live in the ‘real world,’ as he put it, and be around ‘real
people with real problems.’ So he had argued for public school
instead of upper crust private, and ended up in my world.
We’d been tight from the start.
And now Chandler U. was going to toss fresh meat our way. I
smirked to myself. At least the rest of the year would be
entertaining.
“Gale!”
 The sound of Baron’s shout filtered through vintage Springsteen
vibrating through my headphones and I pulled one side away from
my ear. “What?”
“Get the door.”
I pushed myself up from the couch, seeing that while I’d been
zoning Ezra had shut himself in his room and Baron in the bathroom
for his morning shit. A knock came on the door, loud and impatient.
It had to be our roommate. Everyone else on our hall knew not to
fuck with us. I strolled over and pasted a nasty expression on my
face before flinging it open. Might as well start this off on the right
foot. Which would be the wrong foot.
“Hold your fucking horses, I’m—” The words died in my throat.
This wasn’t our roommate. “Can I help you?”
A tiny female—seriously, she only came up to my pecs, and
Baron was even bigger than me—stood in front of me, one hand
raised to knock again. She was wearing a hideous baggy sweater
over a pair of jeans tucked into a pair of black combat boots, and
pale blond hair with pink tips poured from beneath a gray beanie
plastered to her head. As I stared in confusion, she lowered her
hand and swept the beanie from her head, leaving her hair standing
on end. “Took you long enough.”
With that statement, she picked up a duffel that I’d only just
noticed and pushed past me into the dorm. “Who the fuck are you?”
I looked past her into the empty corridor. Maybe she was our new
roommate’s girlfriend?
I shut the door and turned to her. She was looking around with
curled lip, taking in every red solo cup, takeout container, and piece
of clothing strewn about. Just like a female, I thought, annoyed. If
she thought we were going to start cleaning up after ourselves to
suit her hallowed presence, she and her boyfriend could make
themselves at home somewhere else. This was our dorm, not hers—
“Jude Tiernay,” she was saying. “Which room’s mine?”
It took me a minute to catch up, and when I did the bathroom
door swung open and Baron stalked out, stopping short when he
saw the small woman standing in our common area. “Who’s—you?”
he asked, the words tripping over his tongue.
 “That’s what I said.”
The girl poked her tongue in the side of her mouth and dropped
her duffle, which was at least as big as she was. “And I answered
you, genius. Jude Tiernay. Hello, Baron. I guess we meet again.” She
drawled the words out as though we were slow, then put a finger
beneath her nose. “What is that stench?”
Baron ignored the last question and crossed his arms over his
chest, which he hadn’t bothered to cover with a shirt quite yet. He
looked strangely invigorated, his morning sluggishness boiled rapidly
away. He spoke her name slowly. “Jude Tiernay. What are you doing
here?”
She looked around again, one eyebrow raised behind a pair of
librarian glasses that I liked more than I should. “Apparently, I live
here.”
Baron and I exchanged a look. “The hell you do!” The words
flew from my lips, and Ezra’s door flew open.
“Could you please keep—oh. Who might you be?” He eyed the
girl with interest.
She bared her teeth. “Ask your buddies.” Then, ignoring us, she
went to one of the several doors off the common area and opened
it. Baron’s room.
“Excuse me, Pinky—” Baron started.
“No. You are not calling me Pinky. And sorry—obviously not my
room. If someone would just tell me, I wouldn’t have to guess.” She
opened the next door.
“That’s mine,” I told her. “Look, I’m not trying to state the
obvious, but there must be some mistake.”
Moving past Ezra to the last door, she swung it open and poked
her head inside before tossing the duffel to the floor. She looked
back at me, one hand on a narrow cocked hip. “Well, duh, there’s
been a mistake. I’m a female and you all are Neanderthals. I’m quite
certain Housing didn’t stick me here because they were feeling
romantic.”
Ezra stepped forward. “This seems like a simple matter to set
straight. We’ll just call Housing and —”
 The girl—Jude—waved a hand. “Don’t bother. When I saw dude
names on the paperwork, I called Housing and asked about what
would happen if we didn’t like the room assignment. They said since
it’s so late in the semester we would need to suck it up if that were
the case. I assured them that it wouldn’t be a problem. We’re all
grown-ups, right?”
Baron grunted, his eyes touching on her ass. I crossed my arms
over my chest and narrowed my eyes at her. She seemed a lot less
worried about this than I would have expected. She averted her
eyes. “Look, I’m not going to hex you with my female-ness or
otherwise impinge upon this little bro love nest thing you have going
on. I’m going to eat, and sleep, and occasionally go potty. Okay?”
She swiveled to enter her room.
“Hey.” I could only think of one thing to say to stop this steam
engine from rolling right over us. Flattening us.
“What?”
“Don’t be leaving any of your feminine products laying around.”
With a roll of her eyes, she disappeared behind her closed door.
The guys and I looked at each other. Baron released a laugh
and threw himself down on the couch. “There goes the
neighborhood.”
“At least she’s pretty,” Ezra murmured.
“Oh, no. None of that,” I told them both. “That’s… that’s like the
highway to hell, right there. No—” I raised my hand as Baron started
to interrupt. “And she’s lying about calling Housing. I can tell. We
need to work, instead, on getting her out of here. This is not how
we want to end our senior year.”
Baron and Ezra exchanged looks. “Dude—” Baron began.
I shook my head, stopping him. “No. We cannot do this. One,
we have a good thing going here. It’s been us for years—just us. I
don’t know about you, but I don’t want to screw with that, not now
in our senior year. And two… ” I rubbed the back of my neck. “She’s
too fucking hot to be here and not cause problems. Especially with
how busy we all are, with no one dating anyone. We’d be fighting
over that easy access in no time.” It was crude, but it was true. We
all had a type and Jude Tiernay was it for each of us in different
ways. She had the rebellious thing going with the pink hair, which
appealed to Baron’s sense of independence. Her ass appealed to
him, too, from the way he’d been checking it out. Ezra had no doubt
zeroed in on the size of her tits beneath that sweatshirt. And me...it
was her mouth that had done me in almost immediately. A perfect
oval, plump with a pronounced bow.
I had a thing for mouths.
Ezra and Baron looked at each other doubtfully. “Brothers?” I
pressed, raising my eyebrows and demanding their agreement in the
only way I knew how, by referencing the pact we’d made years ago
to be true to each other before chicks or anything else.
They hesitated only seconds before giving it to me. “Agreed.”
 Chapter 4: Jude

Inside my room with the door securely closed, I checked my watch

and took a restorative puff on my inhaler. I had done it. I had bullied
my way in here, faked the perfect amount of confidence, and had
gotten my room.
Now I just needed to keep it.
The one that had opened the door was going to be a problem, I
knew. I hadn’t asked their names, although I already knew Baron’s.
And wasn’t that a kick in the pants.
His eyes had positively gleamed with wickedness, secrets, and
promises. I would have to stay away from him if I wanted this to
work. I couldn’t afford to get involved with one and then have the
others aggravated. Boys were just as stupid as girls with shit like
jealousy.
I’d have to stay away from all of them. Curse my ovaries,
though—they were hot and I’d have to be blind not to notice. Baron,
with his huge muscly body, broody blue eyes, and sulky mouth... he
did things to me that I’d rather not contemplate. Made me aware of
how small I was next to him; wonder how well we’d fit together.
Then there was the tall, leanly built one who had hung back, with
his golden-brown hair and pale brown eyes that twinkled with
humor. His was a sneaky kind of appeal. One minute you were
friends watching Netflix, and the next… bam. You were fucking on
the couch and wondering when things had gotten so out of hand.
And then there was the third, the one who had answered the door.
Dark hair, tall and big, although not like Baron. His eyes were dark—
a deep blue, I thought—and he had scowled the entire time he
spoke to me. He seemed to be an asshole, so staying away from him
shouldn’t be an issue.
 He also seemed to be the leader of their little man posse, which
could be a problem. He did not want me here. Don’t leave your
feminine products laying around… puhleeze.
Dismissing the thought, I unzipped my duffle and began pulling
things from it. I would just have to deal with it.
The room was small, with a narrow bed in one corner, a single
window covered by a set of slatted metal blinds, a nightstand, and a
small desk. A key for the dorm laid upon the desk and I picked it up,
testing its weight in my hand before adding it to my key ring. The
action felt heavy with import. I had a key. I belonged.
As I made the bed, I couldn’t help comparing it to the off-
campus apartment I’d shared with a friend in New York. It had been
a corner unit in a proximal building, with big windows and high
ceilings. The light was the thing I remembered most, light that
flooded the rooms when the floor to ceiling drapes were open and
made everything feel open and airy and clean.
The quad I’d stepped into was nice, with a central space
combining kitchen, bathroom, and common area, but it couldn’t
compare to the luxury or sophisticated design of my former
apartment.
I was one hundred percent okay with that. Especially if it came
spider-free. At the end of the day, I’d learned that luxury and the
friends it brought were overrated. All I truly needed was my sister’s
safety and a place to lay my head at night.
I wasn’t going to let these guys take that away from me.
I snapped a quick panoramic photo and sent it to Eleanor.

Getting settled in! You good?

She messaged back as I worked to unpack the scant belongings

I’d brought with me.

LensBaby: That room sucks, but enjoy.

I snorted. She had taken the shift from stupid-rich to ordinary-

poor kind of hard.
 Finished, I glanced around with my hands on my hips. It was
time for my first class of the day, so I gathered up the books I
needed and headed out, thrilled that I would be coming back here
today instead of having to drive all the way back to the farm. The
extra hours in each day—for sleep, study, running, even television—
would be worth anything I had to put up with.
Even Asshole. I stopped short as I stepped out of my bedroom,
arrested by the sight of him pulling himself up on the bar hung in his
doorway. Sweet baby Jesus, the man was a work of art. His back
was to me, and I stared, hypnotized by the power play of latissimus
dorsi, trapezius, and biceps as he pulled himself up and sank slowly
down, over and over. My brain supplied the names of the planes and
slopes that made up his back, but it was my body that defined its
impact, flushing with heat. He was lean yet solid, with well-defined
musculature that made me want to trace its contours with a finger.
Or perhaps my lips.
“Take a picture; it’ll last longer.” The trite observation came from
my right, and I looked to see the golden one leaning in his own
doorway, eating an apple. My fascination with Asshole had been so
complete I hadn’t even heard the sound of his chomping until he
spoke. My cheeks flamed. Golden One was in a tank top that
revealed tautly defined arms and shoulders, athletic shorts hanging
low on his hips.
“Does he ever wear a shirt?”
He smirked. “Never, and you shouldn’t wear them, either.
Ventilation and all that.”
Asshole let himself down and jerked his thumb at the bar. “All
yours.” Golden One set the half-eaten apple down on the coffee
table and I realized they were working out together.
“You get a good look?” Asshole stalked closer to me and I
forced my eyes to his face.
“I was waiting on you to finish. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Uh-huh.” He raised one eyebrow imperiously, silently asking
what I wanted.
“Uh… yeah. I wanted to know what your name is.”
 “Galen. Why, want to write it in your notebook and circle it with
a heart?”
Mother Mary, he had a high opinion of himself. “No, I wanted to
call you something other than Asshole in my head, but I can see
now that I need to just carry on.”
“Why do you need to call me anything in your head?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I just like planning ways to avoid
assholes.”
Golden One snorted through a pull-up and dropped to the floor.
“Asshole suits him fine, don’t worry. I’m Ezra and apparently you
know Baron.” There was a question in his statement, but I ignored it
and nodded.
“Nice to meet you, Ezra. Gotta go.”
I hurried to the door and opened it, turning to back through and
make sure it was locked behind me. Hopefully Galen would be gone
when I returned later.
The hall was filled with men that I pushed my way through as
unobtrusively as possible. While I didn’t think they would be a
problem, I did not want any of them to pay too much attention to
my comings and goings. With any luck, they would just think I was
making the traditional walk of shame.
Still, it might be wise to figure out when the hallways were least
congested. I could see the school getting its panties in a wad over
me living with guys… maybe even going as far as to take the grant
away.
I would have to be careful.
Class was a bore, but then I had already covered most of this
material in an earlier class at Columbia. I was stuck repeating a
couple of courses that had not transferred over because the program
differed just slightly, but I’d still graduate on time, thank God. I
would be a very well-studied linguistics scholar when I was finished.
Too bad that didn’t mean a job was guaranteed. Instead, I could
only cross my fingers and hope there would be one waiting when I
did graduate. My initial goal had been to get my graduate degree
and then my doctorate in classics and classical languages, and then
go on to attain a professorship. I had dreamed of teaching Greek or
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
are drilled through the blocks lengthwise and then lined with
bushings made of brass tubing, ¹⁄₁₆ in. in inside diameter. The two
motor bases A are connected with four cross sticks, D, each 9 in.
long and ³⁄₁₆ in. square. These are bound and glued on the under
side, one near each end and the others equidistant each from the
other and from the nearest end stick. The front bumper E is made of
round rattan, ¹⁄₈ in. in diameter.

The Mechanical Bird will Run About Five Feet on the Ground and Then Rise
and Fly
 The alighting gear is next in order of construction. This is made as
shown entirely of bamboo, ³⁄₁₆ in. square. The pieces marked F are
11 in. long; G, 9¹⁄₂ in. long, and the cross bar H, 11 in. long. At the
rear, the pieces J are 13 in. long; K, 4¹⁄₂ in. long, and the cross piece
L, 11 in. long. The distance between the points M and N, Fig. 2, is 6
in., and between O and P, 9 in. The bamboo is easily curved by
wetting and holding it for an instant in the flame of a candle. It will
hold its shape just as soon as it becomes cold. The wheels are made
of tin, 1¹⁄₂ in. in diameter, borrowed from a toy automobile. The axles
are made from wire, ¹⁄₁₆ in. in diameter.
The wing spars Q are made of spruce, ³⁄₁₆ in. wide and ¹⁄₄ in. thick.
Those for the front are 30 in. long, and for the rear, 36 in. long. The
ribs R are made of bamboo pieces, ¹⁄₁₆ in. square, 5 in. long for the
front plane, and 6 in. for the rear. These are bound and glued on top
of the spars, 3 in. apart. They are given a slight upward curve. The
round ends are made of ¹⁄₁₆-in. rattan.

Fig. 1
The Motor Base is Made of Two Spruce Sticks Joined Together with Four
Cross Sticks, Bound and Glued to the Under Side
 It is rather difficult to make good propellers, but with a little time
and patience they can be shaped and formed into good proportions.
Procure two clear, straight-grained blocks of white pine, 8 in. long,
1¹⁄₂ in. wide, and ³⁄₄ in. thick. Draw a diagonal line on one block from
opposite corners, as shown at S, Fig. 3, then on the other block T,
draw the line in an opposite direction. Turn the blocks over and draw
opposite diagonals, as shown by the dotted lines. Draw a circle on
each side exactly in the center, ¹⁄₂ in. in diameter. Drill ¹⁄₁₆-in. holes
through the centers of the circles for the propeller shafts. The wood
is then cut down to the lines drawn, leaving only enough material so
that they will not break easily. The face of the blades should be flat
and the back rounded. Leave plenty of stock near the hub. After the
faces have been finished, the blades are shaped as shown at U. The
propellers should be finished with sandpaper to make them perfectly
smooth, as much of the success of the model will depend upon
them. It will be a good plan to shellac them, and also the frame and
the alighting gear. Aluminum paint costs but little, and it makes a fine
finish for a model aeroplane.
The propeller shafts V, Fig. 1, 2, and 4, are cut from bicycle
spokes. An eye for the rubber band is bent in the spoke, about 2 in.
from the threaded end. The end having the threads is run through
the bearing block C, Fig. 4, and the propeller fastened on with a
small washer on each side of it by means of two nuts, W, cut from a
bicycle nipple. These nuts may be turned up tightly with pliers.
The planes are covered with tissue paper put on tightly over the
tops of the ribs, using a flour paste. The planes are movably fixed on
the motor bases A by tying at the four points of contact with rubber
bands. This makes it possible to adjust the fore-and-aft balance of
the machine by changing the position of the planes.
The motive power, which is the most important part of the entire
machine, consists of rubber bands. There are three ways of
obtaining these bands. It is best, if possible, to purchase them from
an aeroplane supply house. In this case, procure about 100 ft. of ¹⁄₁₆-
in. square rubber, 50 ft. for each side. These are wound closely
between the hooks X. This rubber can be taken from a golf ball. It
will require about 40 strands of this rubber, which is removed by
cutting into the ball, on each propeller. Another way of obtaining the
bands is to purchase No. 19 rubber bands and loop them together,
chain-fashion, to make them long enough to reach between the
hooks without stretching. About 30 strands on each propeller will be
sufficient. The hooks X are made in the shape of the letter “S,” to
provide a way for taking out the rubber bands quickly. To prevent the
hooks from cutting the rubber, slip some ¹⁄₁₆-in. rubber tubing over
them. The rubber bands, or motor, when not in use, should be kept
in a cool, dark place and powdered with French chalk to prevent the
parts from sticking together.

Fig. 2
The Alighting Gear is Made Entirely of Bamboo and Attached to the Under
Side of the Motor Frame

With the model complete, flying is the next thing in order. With a
machine as large as this one, quite a field will be necessary to give it
a good flight. Test the plane by gliding it, that is, holding it up by the
propellers and bearing blocks on a level with your head and throwing
it forward on an even keel. Shift the planes forward or back until it
balances and comes to the ground lightly.
 Winding up the propellers is accomplished by means of an eye
inserted in the chuck of an ordinary hand drill. While an assistant
grasps the propellers and motor bearings the rubber is unhooked
from the front of the machine and hooked into the eye in the drill.
Stretch the rubber out for about 10 ft., and as it is wound up, let it
draw back gradually. Wind up the propellers in opposite directions,
turning them from 400 to 800 revolutions. Be sure to wind both
propellers the same number of turns, as this will assure a straight
flight.

Fig. 3
The Most Difficult Part of Making the Propellers can be Overcome with a
Little Patience

Set the machine on the ground and release both propellers at

once, and at the same time push it forward. If everything is properly
constructed and well balanced, the mechanical bird will run about 5
ft. on the ground and then rise to 15 or 20 ft. and fly from 800 to
1,200 ft., descending in a long glide and alighting gracefully.
 Fig. 4
The Motive Power, Which Is the Most Important Part of the Machine,
Consists of Rubber Bands

If the machine fails to rise, move the forward plane toward the
front. If it climbs up suddenly and hangs in the air and falls back on
its tail, move it toward the back.
After the novelty of overland flights has worn off, try flights over the
water. To do this the wheels must be removed and four pontoons put
in their place, as shown by the dotted lines in Fig. 2. The pontoons
are made over a light frame, constructed as shown in Fig. 5. The
frame pieces are bamboo, ¹⁄₈ in. square. Each one is 8 in. long, 4 in.
wide, and 2 in. deep. The covering consists of writing paper glued in
place, after which the whole surface is covered with melted paraffin
to make it water-tight.
 Fig. 5
Framework for Constructing Pontoons by Covering Them with Writing
Paper Soaked in Paraffin

No doubt various methods will be suggested by the time such

flights are made, such as smaller planes for racing, larger ones for
altitude and duration, etc. To make the machine carry weights, build
a duplicate set of planes and fasten them 6 in. above the others by
means of struts, ³⁄₁₆ in. square, forming a tandem biplane, as shown
by the dotted lines in Fig. 2.
Patience is the one thing necessary in model budding. Sometimes
a machine carefully made will not fly, and no one can make it do so
until some seemingly unimportant alteration is made.
 How to Make a Pair of Trammels
The making of these trammels is a very nice workshop problem for
a school, as it requires a very small amount of stock and a
corresponding degree of skill, and at the same time adds a little
something to the general shop equipment.
The brass is best procured in strips, which may be had in different
widths, except the bar, which is ¹⁄₄ in. thick and not less than ³⁄₄ in.
wide. The steel for the points may be the ordinary steel, or if the
trammels are to be used on woodwork, very satisfactory points can
be made of heavy nails.

Trammel Points Made of a Nail and a Brass Strip to Fit the Bar
 Cut two pieces of brass, 4¹⁄₄ in. long, and straighten them with a
wood or rawhide mallet on a surface plate. Draw center lines both
ways through each piece and lay out the openings for the bar with a
sharp scriber, and make a center-punch mark for the ¹⁄₈-in. hole that
is to be drilled at the intersection of the center lines. Mark the lines
where the piece is to be bent, and with a pair of dividers lay out the
ends and shape them with a file.
The center hole and bar openings are next drilled, and the latter
finished by filing. It is better to plane up a short piece of hard wood,
¹⁄₄ by ¹³⁄₁₆ in., and use it as a gauge in filing the rectangular openings
than to try to make them by measurement. Polish the brass pieces
with a piece of fine emery cloth or paper, rubbing it in straight lines
lengthwise of the stock.
The bending is done by clamping the pieces in a vise and bending
first one side and then the other on the lines indicated. This will
require some care, as the upper ends should be 1¹⁄₄ in. apart on the
inside when the bending is complete. To insure the same angle on
both sides, a template of wood is used, and the pieces are carefully
bent to fit it.
The holes for the points are reamed tapering from the inside,
where they are riveted in place. The points are filed to shape and
polished, which is best accomplished in a lathe. Clamp one of the
points in an upright position in a vise with the shouldered end up.
Slip one of the brass pieces in place and rivet by upsetting the
projecting end with a light hammer.—Contributed by J. A. Shelly,
Brooklyn, N. Y.
Seeding Bare Spots on Lawns
 A lawn that shows patches of grass with bare spots, or only partly
covered with grass can be sown with seed that will fill the uncovered
places by using the tool illustrated. It is made of a block of wood, 1
in. thick, into which several large nails are driven so that their ends
project about 1¹⁄₂ in. Another block is fastened on top of the nail
heads to keep them from pushing out of their holes. A handle is
attached to the latter block.
The tool is used by driving it into the earth where there is no grass,
or in thin places, and the grass seed is sprinkled into the holes. In
raking over the lawn the young grass is not so apt to be torn out and
destroyed before it gets a good root.—Contributed by Edmund H.
Trabold, Orange, N. J.
A Porch Swing
 A Porch Swing Having a Rail That Incloses the Person Sitting in It

The seat of the swing consists of a board, 30 in. long, 14 in. wide,
and 1 in. thick, with holes bored in each corner for the ropes. The rail
at the top is made of four oak pieces, two of them 30 in. long, for the
sides, and the other two 18 in. long, for the ends; all 3 in. wide and
⁷⁄₈ in. thick. The ends of these pieces are finished rounding, and
holes are bored in them for the supporting ropes. The supports for
the rails consist of four pieces of ³⁄₄-in. pipe, 15 in. long. The ropes
are run through the holes in the ends of the rails, down through the
pipes and through the holes in the seat board, where they are
knotted.
A rope tied to a convenient post or screw hook makes a handy
way to give motion by pulling. To get into the swing, raise one of the
side rails on the rope.—Contributed by Ward M. Mills, Bakersfield,
Cal.

¶Cover the top and side of ice in a refrigerator with a piece of Canton
flannel, and the ice will last longer.
Sheepshank Knot Used to Recover Rope
 Only a Small Portion of the Rope will be Left on the Projection

The knot shown has a peculiar characteristic which enables a

person to recover the rope after letting himself down from some
elevated position. After the rope has been tied firmly to some
support, as a limb of a tree, tie this knot, or “sheepshank,” as high up
as possible. Close inspection will show that one of the three sections
of the knot holds no part of the weight below. This section is
identified as the portion which projects through the loops A and B at
both ends. The other sections project through at one end only. When
the knot has been arranged, slide down carefully to a position just
below it and cut the rope at C; then descend to the ground. By
shaking the rope the knot may be loosened, and only a short piece
will be left attached to the support.—Contributed by F. R. Gorton,
Ypsilanti, Michigan.
Writing Two Colors on a Plain-Ribbon Typewriter
To write red, or any other color, on a one-color ribbon typewriter
place a long enough piece of red carbon paper, or the color desired,
between the ribbon and the paper. It will hold its place quite well,
does the work as well as a two-color ribbon used on expensive
machines, and does not cost very much.—Contributed by Leslie E.
Turner, New York City.
 A Simple Card Deception
The effect of this trick is not new, but the method is a new one. A
card is selected by a spectator and noted, then returned to the pack,
which is shuffled by the one drawing the card. Despite the thorough
mixing the correct card is located by cutting the pack. The secret is
this: When the card is chosen, the chooser is allowed to remove it
from the pack. The performer then takes it and holds it up and asks
the audience to fix it in their minds. While doing this, allow the thumb
nail of the index finger to slightly graze the edge of the card. This will
not show, nor can it be detected by the holder, and he suspects
nothing of the kind. When returned to the deck and shuffled the pack
is evened up for cutting. A glance at the edges will show a small
white spot distinctly, as the scraped edge will contrast with the other
soiled cards. It is simple to cut the pack from this key.—Contributed
by John C. Moorehead, Minneapolis, Minn.
 Catching Minnows for Bait
Instead of chasing the little fish up and down the stream to catch
enough for bait, try putting a clean bit of shell in a wide-mouth jar
and holding it in the water. The minnows will be attracted in great
numbers, and it is an easy matter to dip them up. A bit of shell can
be used also in a net. The white, shining shell seems to be a good
lure for the little fellows.—Contributed by Miriam Colchester,
Amherst, Can.