“Here, I have a feeling you’re going to need this.” I nod, accepting the drink. “And I’ll be over there if you need me,” she says, pointing toward the kitchen area, where a line of hockey players are waiting to tap a keg.
I slosh the drink back but choke upon swallowing. My wicked friend didn’t give me a draft, as I had assumed, but some sort of licorice liqueur. Once the shock subsides, it feels nice on my throat and my muscles are no longer wound up as tight.
“What are you doing here?” comes Cal’s voice from behind me and I do a slight jump. I’d been too busy choking to notice his approach. So much for my calmed nerves.
“You know why I’m here,” I retort, giving Cal my own once-over. Everything checks out. Hot, hot, hot! “Why are you here? I thought you don’t like the party scene, or at least that’s why you broke up with ‘Trina.’” I’m not sure why I did air quotes when saying Trina’s name. It doesn’t even make sense to emphasize that, but I did.
“One of the reasons,” he corrects, “and you’re right. I hate these parties.”
I wave my hand around the room. “Again, then why are you here?”
He sighs and gives me a pointed look. “I’m here for you.”
I feel the air rush out of my lungs, his words deflating my temper as quickly as a popped balloon.
Cal leans closer. “Steel mentioned that you and Jax might be coming here tonight, so I thought I’d keep an eye on the two of you.”
My inner pride balloon reinflates. “Gee, thanks, dad,” I mutter.
Cal cocks his head to the side, his face tense and tortured. “So, you’re determined to do this,” he says, not asking it as a question.
I accomplish a weak nod despite the lump rising in my throat. A muscle ticks in Cal’s jaw and it’s fascinating. I’m tempted to lick it. Shaking my head, I clear my mind of those thoughts.
Cal downs whatever was in his own red cup and bobs his head. “And who’s the lucky guy?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I fire back with as much bravado as I can muster, once again scanning the crowded house. A couple is crawling on their hands and knees up the steps of the grand staircase leading to the rooms above, while some guy is puking over the railing. No kissing candidates there.
“You’re just going to walk up to some dude and make out?”
“What, like it’s hard?” I say flippantly, doing my best Elle Woods from Legally Blonde impression. Cal does not look impressed and I shrug, absently putting down my empty cup on a side table.
“Argh,” Cal growls aloud in frustration.
Literally, he just growled at me, and for some reason, I find it hot, provoking him to such a degree. I’m tempted to growl back when I spot a guy we know sitting on a couch with a group of athletes from the catch-all “Sports House.”
I tilt my head toward the sofa and our neighbor from across the hall, Van, who’s busy showing another guy something on his phone before erupting into laughter. “Van isn’t a stranger,” I reason aloud. “He’d be perfect. He’s funny, nice, and he’s always inviting me to stuff.”
Cal curses and rubs a hand over his face. “I’m funny,” he says, stabbing a thumb at his chest. “I’m nice, and I’m always inviting you to stuff, too, just not here.”
“Yes, but you, you …” I trail off, not sure what point I’m trying to make anymore.
Cal shoots me an annoyed look. “That’s right, I’m a player,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not to be trusted, but Van the linebacker is.”
I start to nod in agreement but stop myself. That was how I used to think of Cal. Not anymore?
“Howdy, neighbors,” Van says, appearing next to us, all smiles. “Someone say my name?”
“No!” Cal says, shoving him toward the kitchen. “Grab me a refill, will you, bro?” Visibly alarmed, Van throws us a stunned look over his shoulder, but eventually he follows Cal’s order.
I arch an eyebrow at Cal. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“Not Van,” he says definitively. I start to argue, but Cal interrupts. “You don’t want things to be awkward afterward since he lives right across from you.”
It’s sound reasoning, although the irony is not lost on me that Cal is also my neighbor and that didn’t stop him from kissing me, but whatever. Besides, I like Van, I’m just not sure if I like like him. It’s true, a stranger would probably be better and easier to avoid after.
“I can’t believe you’re at a sorority event,” Cal continues, shaking his head, pretty much echoing my own thoughts as some girl bumps into me without bothering to say sorry.
Why can’t I be at a raging Greek party? Am I so boring, so uptight, it’s not to be believed? I place a hand on my hip and stick out my chest in defiance. Cal’s eyes lower to my breasts, and for a second, I try to remember why I’m mad. “That’s right,” I say, repeating his phrase and tone from earlier. “I’m not like the girls you know.”
