Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
JAX
This house is fucking massive. Seth and I stand on the sidewalk just ogling it like a pair of losers.
We both rent little studio apartments, and I grew up in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom house.
This? This is on a whole other level. There must be at least ten bedrooms. It’s two stories, windows showcasing different rooms along the front of the house, a veranda covering the front porch.
Party lights flash from the lower level windows, music pouring through the stone work.
“What the actual fuck did you get us into?”
“I–I have no clue.”
I let out a deep sigh and let my tongue play with the little bit of the sucker still sitting on the stick.
I start my way towards the front door, and as soon as I reach it, it swings open, a pair of women stumbling out, bumping into us along the way.
They both reek of liquor, my nose turning up as we watch them laugh and trip over their own feet.
With one last glance at Seth, I take the first step into the house and look around.
It’s like we’ve been transported to a different dimension, the music becoming that much louder and the lights flashing throwing me off-kilter.
Groups of people are littered about, the ones clearly not dancing either talking or sharing spit. This is exactly like the movies make it seem.
I move like a snake, turning my body back and forth to wind around people while also trying not to touch them.
It’s harder than it sounds, but, after a few moments, we finally reach the kitchen.
Littered across the island in the middle is liquor bottles, a tub in the corner housing bottles and cans, and a keg in another corner with plastic cups sitting on top of a pump.
There’s a ton of people squeezing around the kitchen, so I opt for the path of least resistance. I grab a can each for me and Seth before sidling right next to it, where no one else is occupying space.
“This is, uh, a lot,” I say as I take the stick from the candy out of my mouth and crack open the cheap beer.
Taking a sip of the cool liquid, I grimace at the taste.
It doesn’t taste all that good, especially with the blue raspberry from the candy still filling my mouth.
I continue to take in my surroundings as Seth cracks his open and takes a drink too.
“Uh, yah. This is. But how cool! We’re at our first college party!”
My eyes don’t stop moving. Seth stands next to me so we can watch each other's interactions.
“I could really go for a shot, though.” I thread my hand through my black hair before I shove it back into my pocket, cross my legs, and lean into the wall.
My anxiety is steadily rising the more people crowding into the space.
For as big as this house seemed from the outside, being inside? Way too fucking small.
“How about you go get one? I could save our spot.”
“Yeah, maybe in a minute.” I eye the liquors, seeing if there would be something I would be interested in, but a deep laugh draws my attention away from the bottles.
It’s a deep rumble, something that shudders down my spine and makes my belly flip.
It’s something I find stupid attractive, and my eyes strain to find the source, waiting for it to happen again so I can clock exactly who it was.
There’s a small part in the group, and, of course, the football star himself is standing there, but I pay him no mind.
He’s attractive, sure—biceps filling out his tight tee-shirt, muscles borderline popping through the material clinging to his abdomen.
His jeans fit him just right, and he sports a million dollar smile with perfectly white teeth, his black hair shaggy but in a I meant to do it way.
His tanned skin is inked with all kinds of black lines.
I wonder if I could color them in like my own personal coloring book?
Wait, no. Not me, I mean, whoever he is with.
He’s probably not even gay. I could really use that drink.
“I feel like I need tequila.”
Seth rolls his eyes. “I already said go get it. I can hold our spot.”
“Okay, fine.”
I push off the wall, hand the can to Seth, and proceed to weave through the crowd until I’m belly up with all the bottles.
I just scooch my way, keeping my front pressed tightly against the edge until I’m finally in front of where I need to be. But of course, there are no shot glasses anywhere to be seen.
“Fucking dammit,” I curse as I quickly scan the area again. Right at that time, the same laugh I just became infatuated with rings out again, and my head snaps in that direction for the culprit. What I’m not expecting is for it to be him.
“Fucking dammit,” I curse yet again. Of course, the football star has to be the culprit for that hot-as-sin laugh.
He shifts side to side, and that’s when I see them: the sleeve of plastic shot glasses standing tall behind him, which also means talking to him.