“Party? More like…more like a teeny little get t’gether.”
Jeez, could you slur anymore, Haven?
It wasn’t a party.
It was a rager.
Only reason we left is that the girl who’d arranged the get-together got the dates wrong, and her parents arrived unexpectedly. And angrily.
Oh so fucking angrily.
If I’m in shit, so are half the girls in this foyer. But I guess I shouldn’t bother trying to hide the fact that we’ve been drinking. Everyone’s barefoot, rumpled, frizzy, and smudged.
And the smell…
“Would you say more than a hundred students, or less?” the cop asks like he honestly thinks I’m capable of counting over ten.
Meanwhile, I’m trying so hard not to black out, it’s been over a minute since I’ve blinked.
Is this the guy Kai was talking about last week? The one that wanted info on him and Ezra? Sure sounds like it.
God, I wish I wasn’t so drunk right now.
My gaze flicks down to his name badge. “Did someone really break in, Mr Thatcher?”
Whoever made liquor that tastes like melted chocolate must be laughing in trillionaire right now.
“Deputy,” he corrects pleasantly. “You’re a member of the Gamma Alpha Zeta sorority, correct?”
“Uh…not really. It’s kinda more like a, you know,” I give him an airy wave, “long-term sleepover sorta situation.”
“Which room is yours?”
“Last on the left.”
He glances up, a gleam of interest in his brown eyes. He’s cute for a guy his age. But way too serious. And way too goody-two-shoes. Also, since when do I judge how hot older guys are?
Oh, right.
Since a certain smoking hot professor set his stalkerish sights on me.
I should tell Mr. Detective over here about Bastian. I could report his ass right here, right now.
I stiffen at the thought.
Well, maybe notrightnow. In my current state, it’ll end in tears. And vomit. I’m not in the mood for either.
“Last door on the left?” he repeats.
Hang on…wait just one fucking second.
Is this a narc raid? Melissa might have weed in our room.
“MeandMelissa’s,” I elaborate reluctantly.
Not to throw her under the bus or anything, but I’m not getting kicked out of college for some weed. Something tells me no matter what, I’ll end up being the ‘friend’ she’s holding it for.
“Name?”
