We do the shots. Then another. The liquor is doing its job, making everything softer around the edges. The music gets louder, or maybe I just stop caring about the noise. People keep coming up to congratulate us on the win. I accept high-fives and nod at things I'm not really listening to.
I want to get drunk. I want to forget about the way Sutton looked at me on the quad, like she'd already moved on. I want to forget that I'm supposed to be making life-altering decisions when I can barely get through a day without wondering what she's doing.
"Another?" Crew asks, holding up the bottle.
"Yeah," I say. "Another. And don’t stop. Just make sure I drink some water before bed.”
Crew grins. “I got you.”
I’d regret it in the morning.
I didn’t care.
Chapter Six
SUTTON
I'm here. At the party. Where I absolutely do not want to be.
"You're coming," Keira said an hour ago, standing in my tiny apartment with her arms crossed. "I'm revoking best-friend privileges if you say no."
"You can't do that."
"Watch me."
So here I am, squeezed into jeans I haven't worn in weeks and a black top that Keira insisted made me look hot. Miserable is the look I’m sporting. I think I wear it well.
The house is packed. Bodies everywhere, the bass so loud I can feel it in my chest. There are red cups littering every available surface. The Wolves won tonight, so half the campus showed up to celebrate. It's the kind of crowd where you can disappear if you want to. Blend in. Pretend you're just another person having a good time.
For about twenty minutes, it almost works.
Keira gets us drinks. Some horrible punch that tastes like it's 90 percent vodka and 10 percent Hawaiian punch. The taste is not why you drink it. I force it now, and not surprisingly, themore I drink, the better it tastes. We find a spot halfway down the hall where we can see into the living room but without being in the thick of things.
"See?" Keira says, leaning close so I can hear her over the music. "This isn't so bad."
I'm about to agree with her and say maybe she was right. Getting out of my apartment was exactly what I needed.
But the words die in my throat.
I see him.
Declan is across the room by the fireplace, and he's not alone.
The girl beside him is stunning. Dark hair that falls in perfect waves past her shoulders, long legs that seem to go on forever, wearing a tiny black dress that's definitely designer. She's laughing at something, her hand on his arm, leaning in close like they're sharing secrets. Her tits rub against his arm, and I think I’m going to puke.
"Don't look," Keira says immediately, but it's too late. I'm already looking. I can't stop looking.
He's laughing, too. Not the fake laugh he does when he’s just being nice to one of his fans. That’s his real smile. Real laugh.
He looks good.
And I hate that.
"Sutton." Keira steps in front of me, blocking my view. "Stop. Don't do this to yourself."
"Who is she?" My voice is raspy, like I’ve been screaming. Internally, I am screaming.
"I don't know. Does it matter?"
