"Hey, did you see the soccer team got pranked?" Ashton asked, yanking Logan's attention back to the present.
Fuuuuuck
"Yeah, I think I heard something about that," Logan replied in a low voice.
"Heard? Man, there'svideos." Ashton slapped his hand on Logan's shoulder, steering him toward the kitchen from which came a steady stream of people carrying drinks. "Shit's hilarious. The team keeps posting themselves trying to herd like, thousands of these baby chickens into boxes, but they just keep running around the locker room. Some of those videos are even going viral. There's already a remix set to dance music that makes it look like the world's tiniest rave. Search for #FowlPlay. Hey! We should totally do that to the Sigmas!"
Logan's chest tightened, only heightening the sense of claustrophobia he was getting from the press of bodies all crammed into the little kitchen-turned-haphazard-open bar. "No."
"No?" Ashton frowned as he twisted to allow two leggy blondes and an absolutelystackedbrunette past. "Wha—Why?"
With a wince, Logan racked his brain for an answer that wouldn't land him in even deeper trouble. "I, umm…"
But something on Logan's face must have given him away, judging by the speed with which Ashton's eyes widened. "Holy shit! You were involved in that, weren't you?"
"…Yeah." Logan sighed. He'd had to shower three times to feel like he'd gotten all the grit and crap off him, his hair still damp and curling ticklishly around his ears. Now, if only he could scrub away this sour feeling that'd been lodged in his gut since Coach Rankin had delivered his warning, maybe Logan would be up for a party. As it was, he was hoping he could tempt Madeline to follow him upstairs and see if she'd be interested in helping Logan clear his head.
"Oh, man!" Ashton wheedled, nearly vibrating with excitement. "But wehaveto do it now. C'mon, Logan. You're gonna be a legend!"
"I really can't," Logan protested. "Coach read us the riot act. Said I'll lose my spot on the team if something like it happens again."
Ashton just made a rude noise at that, flapping his hand as if to shoo Logan's worry away.
"I'm serious," Logan told him grimly. "If you try it, Coach is going to blame me. Ashton, for real — I'm asking you not to."
"Alright, fine. I hear you, dude," Ashton replied, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "We'll talk more about it later. Sounds as if you had an earful of it today. But you know what they say — there's nothin' like a good party to cheer you up. Lots of hotties showed up tonight, too. You just gotta get your mojo back, if you get my meaning," Ashton winked.
Logan nodded, pasting on a grin. If only his problems could be solved so easily.
"Excellent! Let's start by getting you a drink. What's your poison?"
Ashton gestured at the countertops of the tiny kitchen, every available surface covered in bottles, stacks of red cups, or sticky-looking puddles of spilled liquid. Somewhere around here would be the trash can filled with the punch some of the guys made and called 'jungle juice'; a neon-colored blend of the cheapest liquor, sliced fruit, and a handful of juice-mix packets chosen at random by whichever pledge had been assigned shopping duty that week.
Too sweet for Logan, but the girls who came to these parties drank it like water. Besides, its purpose wasn't to taste good; the whole point was to get drunk —fast. Tempting, after the day he'd had, but if Madeline was swinging by soon…
"Where's the soda cans?" Logan asked, looking around for an ice chest or something.
"There's the sodas if you want a rum and coke or whatever," Ashton indicated. He gestured vaguely over the heads of the mob towards the fridge, next to which stood an accumulated counterful of two-liter sodas mixed with handles of the cheapest liquor the frat's party budget could afford to buy in mass quantities.
Logan wove his way across the kitchen, ignoring the bottles in favor of opening the fridge door to see if there was anything good inside. "Got a girl who said she and some friends might swing by. I'll drink after, but — "
"But you don't want a case of whiskey dick ending the party too soon." Ashton laughed as he splashed a few different things into his cup. "I got you. Smart."
"Something like that," Logan replied, popping open an orange soda he'd found in the fridge. He reached over to gamely tap his can against the red plastic cup Ashton held out with a dullplunk, grinning.
"There's some new girls here tonight, y'know. From thevolleyballteam," Ashton informed him with special emphasis as he led them out of the press of bodies and back into the main room. "You ever watched them play in those tiny little uniforms of theirs?Sofucking hot."
"I think I hooked up with one," Logan replied, following. "Four… No, five weeks ago? The party where Nathan cut his hand when they dropped him doing a keg stand."
"Dude!" Ashton laughed, dodging out of the way of three fraternity brothers carrying cases of beer into the kitchen Ashton and Logan had just left. "You're my hero, you know that?"
"Naw." Logan shook his head, grinning as his mood picked up. "Pretty sure she was only trying to make her ex jealous or something."
"Even better! Y'know, it sounds like you've got real game. What say you and I hit the bars this weekend, see if we can't find a pair of sugar mamas willing to buy us the good stuff instead of this cheap swill?" he asked, swirling the contents of his cup meaningfully. "You can be my wingman."
"Sounds good," Logan lied, taking a sip of his drink as he scanned the room for Madeline. Or hell, maybe that volleyball player would be interested again, if she were here.
"Hey, is that your roommate, finally gracing us with his presence?" Ashton asked, nodding to the side stairs where Wally had just appeared.
