Chapter 1 #2
“We’re next!” Olivia grabbed my bicep and pulled me toward the table. After setting the cups up in a pyramid, Rae bent her arm to make the first shot.
“Is that Hunter?” Kat yelled and pointed at the door, causing Rae to toss the ball wildly.
We all laughed as Rae whipped around, looking at the dance floor.
“Oh, my mistake,” Kat said, her dark-rimmed eyes wide and innocent.
“You suck.” Rae let out a relieved sigh and took a big drink. “I don’t think I have it in me to turn him down. Again.”
Kat patted her back and went back to her spot on the wall.
“I’m not drunk enough for this yet.” Britta’s shot missed, and she groaned.
Olivia made hers and celebrated with a bit of ass shaking, bumping into me and the table.
“Ma’am, you need to watch yourself. You nearly knocked our cups over.”
Laughing, she straightened them. “Sorry.”
I lined my hand up with their cups and brought my wrist back three times before releasing, successfully sinking a cup. Ass to ass, Olivia and I shimmied and shook, making all the girls laugh.
“Roll’em back!” Olivia shouted. The song changed, and she jumped. “Oh! Forget the game! This is my song!”
Before I said a word, she grabbed my hand and shouldered her way up the tiered dance floor. Having made it to the top, she started to dance—hard.
From our vantage point, I could see the entire party, and to my surprise and horror, there, next to the other Frattic girls, was Mr. Hottie McHotterson.
Not only was he next to them, but he was talking to Kat.
And she was smiling! I was officially done dancing and wanted to march over there and find out what was so damn delightful.
As I leaned in to tell Olivia I needed to go back to the girls, both Kat and my mystery man turned towards us. Kat smirked, then pointed at me. The beautiful guy nodded and started toward me.
I froze. All the bodies around me kept dancing, but I couldn’t move as his long legs ate up the distance between us.
His tall, muscular body moved smoothly, his eyes never leaving mine.
My skin flushed under his gaze, and the anticipation of his arrival made me a little jittery.
I struggled to take a full breath of the thick, humid air, squeezing my cup until the plastic creaked.
The chorus ended, and he finally stepped up the levels of the stage.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking and ran smack into one of the speakers hanging from the ceiling. He reached up to his forehead and rubbed, glaring at the speaker as if it had swung into him. I covered my mouth but couldn’t stifle the laughs spilling out of me.
When the song changed, my laugh carried over the chatter, and he finally looked back at me, a slight smile on his lips. He stepped right next to me and bent down, his cologne or soap or whatever it was, blocking out the smelly party. “I know how to make an entrance, huh?”
I barked out a laugh right in his face, and he reared back, but I grabbed his arm before his head hit the speaker again.
Standing on my tippy toes, I shouted, “You’re memorable, that’s for sure.
” Pulling back, he smiled at me. And good Lord, that smile nearly knocked me on my ass.
Up close, I could see he had dark blond hair and light blue eyes.
At least that was my guess in between the flashing lights.
“I could say the same for you.” He glanced down at my modest dress. “Despite the macabre dress, you look amazing.”
“Thanks.” My cheeks heated. “I like your shirt.” The colorful lights hitting the white made him stand out even more against the sea of skanky mourners.
He grinned and nodded. “Thanks. My brother told me I didn’t need to change.” Glancing at the nearby dancers, he chuckled. “Fucker.”
I laughed. “Is he always so helpful?”
The skin around his eyes crinkled as his smile grew. “Oh yeah. I should’ve known when he showed up at my apartment dressed like he was reentering his emo phase.”
Tilting my head, I studied his face, searching for a spark of recognition.
Why does he feel so familiar?
“I don’t know you. Are you a transfer?” It’s not that I knew everyone, but for a guy to be at a frat that he wasn’t in, he’d either be a transfer or . . .
“I’m a freshman.”
My stomach plummeted. How? How was he a freshman?
“Oh.” I took a small step away.
He closed the gap. “I’m 23, but I’m just starting school.”
“Thank God,” I rushed out.
His face broke into a full-out grin, complete with two deep dimples. That was it. I was sunk. I’d read about it in Olivia’s books, seen it play out in movies. Still, I’d never had the privilege of being immediately smitten with someone.
“I assume you’re not a freshman.”
“Nope, senior.” I finished my drink and handed the empty cup over to Olivia, who was still off in her own drunken world, dancing.
“Thank God,” he mimicked.
And then, we stood there, barely swaying, our chests skimming one another with every breath, my hand resting on his arm, his on my hip. All smiles.
“So, what’s your name?” His lips brushed the shell of my ear.
“Sarah Tilney. You?”
His cheek pressed into mine as our bodies touched from head to toe. “Connor McCormick.”