Chapter 7
SEVEN
The next morning, I’m sitting outside on the deck FaceTiming with Reagan and Dakota recapping last night. I had so much fun and I’m excited to hang out with them again today.
Adam comes out, shirtless, hair matted from sleep, and a giant bottle of Gatorade in hand. “’Morning.”
“Hey.”
He takes a seat next to me with a big, tired sigh and glances to the phone in my hand with a smile. Which reminds me…
“Reagan, what happened with that guy last night?”
“Oh, nothing.” She bites at the corner of her lip, making one dimple dot her cheek. “It was stupid. He’s dating someone else. I didn’t realize until last night. Moving on.”
“How is that possible? You’re gorgeous. Did you tell him you were into him?”
She shakes her head.
I angle the phone so she can see Adam. “Would you tell her that she needs to tell this guy so he can break up with his girlfriend to date her?”
He chuckles and Reagan’s eyes go wide. “Oh my god, Ginny. Adam, you absolutely do not need to—”
“She’s right.” He nods and smiles at my new friend. “Guy must be crazy.”
“See. Told you.”
She covers her face with her hands like she’s embarrassed.
“I’m going to hang with Adam for a bit.”
“Hurry up and get over here,” Dakota says, popping her head in front of the screen for a second.
“I’ll be over soon,” I promise.
“Looks like you made some friends,” Adam says as I hang up the phone.
“I did. Thanks for letting me crash in your room last night.”
“No problem. The couch wasn’t too bad.”
“That might have had something to do with the girl that was on it with you.”
“Probably so,” he agrees. “Do you girls want to ride over to the party together?”
“Sure, sounds good.” I stand and stretch. “See you later.”
I knock at Dakota and Reagan’s and then open the door. “Hello?”
“In my room,” Reagan calls.
Dakota sits on the bed and Reagan tosses two giant handfuls of swimsuits onto the comforter.
“I pulled all my suits for you to choose from,” Reagan says.
I didn’t bring a bathing suit from the dorm, so I’m thankful she’s letting me borrow one but holy crap. “That is a lot of options.”
She nods happily.
I shower and pull my hair into a braid. I go for a low-cut pink one-piece suit and my own cut-off shorts and sandals.
I’m waiting on Dakota and Reagan’s couch while they finish getting ready when I get a text.
Hottest guy on campus:
Did you leave without saying goodbye?
Me:
Who is this and how did you get this number?
Hottest guy on campus:
Name is self-explanatory.
It is self-explanatory, sadly. I met dozens of people last night, but Heath is the only one I can recall with any detail. There’s a hotness about Heath that goes beyond types and is more universal truth.
Hottest guy on campus:
Back at the dorm?
Me:
No, actually I’m next door waiting for Dakota and Reagan so we can leave for the pool party. Are you going?
Hottest guy on campus:
Depends. Are you going to be there in a bikini?
I glance down at my very covered midsection.
Me:
Guess you’ll have to come to find out.
Despite Heath’s texts that sound anxious to see me, he isn’t around when Dakota, Reagan, and I meet Adam and Rhett in the parking lot to catch a ride over.
We pile into Adam’s Jeep and drive the few blocks to the pool party. Adam parks along the street and points. “That’s Ray Fieldhouse. The student fitness facility is inside, and a lot of the teams have private workout rooms there, too.”
“Where’s the rink from here?” I ask, trying to get my bearings. The Valley U campus is big and I’m still not sure where everything is.
“Couple of blocks west,” Rhett answers.
I sling my beach bag over my shoulder and follow the guys up the sidewalk. “Whose house is this?” I ask once we get to our destination. I was expecting an apartment with a community pool or an old house with a tiny yard and pool. This is none of that.
“This is The White House,” Adam remarks. “Guys from the basketball team live here.”
We walk around to the back of the giant white house, aptly named, to the pool party going on outside.
The pool itself takes up half the large yard and the other side is grassy with a volleyball net set up.
There are people everywhere. Everywhere.
The scene looks like something straight out of a spring break video.
Music pumping loudly, girls lounging on rafts, guys chilling with beers in hand, a coed volleyball game.
Even in my tiny shorts and my cleavage pushed up to my ears, I’m grossly overdressed. And where does one stow a bag in a place like this? Something tells me I’m not going to need any of the things I packed: sunscreen, towels, bottled water, three pairs of sunglasses.
On the plus side, there are entirely too many people in the back yard of The White House to feel uncomfortable or self-conscious about my giant bag. My thoughts only stray as far as my next step.
We squeeze through behind Adam and Rhett’s large frames to the keg. I’m introduced to more guys from the hockey team, some I recognize from last night.
“Tiny?” I can’t help but ask of the guy who is anything but. “Your name is Tiny?”
Tiny, I find out once I have a beer in hand, is a nickname because Tony Waklsinski is the shortest player on the team. And I guess in comparison with Adam, who’s at least five inches taller, I can sort of see it. I know how sensitive boys are about inches.
Maverick finds us and joins the circle. Today he’s wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt left open to reveal his chiseled abs and tattoos. He lifts the bottle of Mad Dog in his hand. “Shot?”
The other girls pass, but I’m feeling adventurous, so I take it and tip it back, letting some of the sweet liquid slide down my throat. I grimace; it’s so sickly sweet that I chase it with beer, which doesn’t really help since I’m not a fan of it either.
“All right. Let’s not get my baby sister shitfaced.” Adam takes the bottle and takes a drink three times as big as mine as if he’s trying to drink it all so I won’t.
“Anyone seen Payne? He’s supposed to be bringing reinforcements.” Maverick reaches for the nearly empty bottle and gives it a shake.
“No clue,” Adam says. “Thought he was with you.”
When Taryn shows up with her friends, that feels like my cue to leave.
“Mingle?” I ask Dakota and Reagan.
We make a circle around the party and head inside to check out the drink selection. “This is not what I thought of when you guys said pool party.”
“It’s more bikini party unless you’re brave enough to get in the pool,” Reagan says.
“What’s wrong with the pool?”
“Going into the pool is the equivalent of posting an I’m here to get laid sign on your forehead,” Dakota says. “Which if you’re into that, it’s totally fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She holds up the vodka in invitation. “Drink?”
After we swap out our beer for vodka and tonic, we head back outside.
We sit on lounge chairs on the patio near a mister and watch the people in the pool. Some love matches (or rather, hookups) are being made while other people are being hilariously blown off.
Dakota drills me with twenty questions while we people watch. Now that we’ve spent a little time together, she holds nothing back, but somehow the way she pries is endearing.
“So, no boyfriend?” Reagan asks, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.
“No,” I say with a scowl.
Dakota laughs. “Oooh, there’s a story.”
“Not a good one.”
Water drips onto my toes and I look up to see Maverick leaning over and shaking his head on us.
“Bad dog,” Dakota scolds him.
I’m laughing as I dodge him continuing to get us wet when my gaze falls to a guy approaching from behind him.
“Ah, there he is,” Maverick says, taking a seat next to me. “Payne, where the hell have you been?”
“Been around.” His dark blue eyes land on me. He’s got a twelve-pack of hard seltzer under one arm and my stomach flips. He pulls a bottle of Mad Dog out of his pocket and hands it to Maverick.
“Trade you.” He motions with his head and Maverick stands, giving up his seat and taking the bottle.
He smells like soap and sun and wild dreams. Dreams you shouldn’t allow because they’re so out of reach, but you can’t help but want. Dreams you don’t speak of, but that live in the darkest corner of your mind.
“Swim anyone?” Maverick asks.
I shake my head as does Reagan.
“Oh, why not.” Dakota stands, looks to me and shrugs with a smirk.
“I’m going to find the bathroom. Do you want to come?” Reagan asks me, then glances between me and Heath.
“I’m good.”
Heath opens the case and holds out a can. “Drink?”
As I wrap my hands around the cold can, he holds tight and leans in. “You look good. Do you want to skip this party and go make out?”
I laugh, but heat rushes to my core at the thought. “Pass.”
“You wanna not skip this party and just make out right here?”
“Definitely pass.” I pull the drink from his hand and pop the top. After I’ve taken a long drink, I ask, “Does that usually work for you?”
“Honestly?”
I nod.
“Every time.”
I roll my eyes. “What is wrong with women?”
“I’m really good at making out.” His stare darts to my mouth. I have no doubt.
“You and I are going to be just friends.”
“Friends?” His brows raise. “I don’t have girl friends.”
“You do now.”