One of them, tall with sandy brown hair, edges closer to me. Leaning down, he confesses, “I know nothing about football. Don’t tell them.”
“I grew up in the South. I know too much about football,” I say with a laugh.
“Is that my problem?” he asks. “I mean, we have football in Vermont, but it’s not like this.”
“Vermont, huh? A hockey town?” I ask.
“Now you’re really emasculating me,” he teases. “I thought when I came here I would never have to fake hockey talk again.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” I assure him. “What are you into…?”
“Jeremy,” he reminds me.
“Sorry.” I glance at the ground, embarrassed to have forgotten his name already.
“That’s okay. You’d be a genius if you could keep all of us straight.” He tips his head toward the house. “Can I get you a drink?”
I think back to my earlier promise about being the designated driver and hesitate.
“It’s cool, if you don’t want to,” he says. “I just want to be hospitable.”
“Is this your place?” I ask.
“Yep. Me and a few guys decided the frat house was a bit too crowded. We can control parties a little easier here,” he confesses.
“I’d love to grab a drink,” I decide. I’ve learned my lesson about accepting drinks from anyone I don’t know, no matter how hospitable they are. But I’ve met Jeremy, and he knows Cyrus, who has been around since before I formed memories. Besides, I’ll watch him like a hawk.
We make it into the kitchen, and Jeremy butts in to the keg line to pour a beer from the tap. I watch him the whole time and grab it as soon as it’s out. This cup isn’t leaving my sight the rest of the night.
“Took that freshman orientation tip about watching your cup pretty seriously, huh?” he says with a laugh as we find a quiet spot by the door.
“Unfortunately, I learned that lesson the hard way,” I tell him.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says instantly. “That was a stupid joke.”
“It’s okay. I was lucky.” I curse inwardly at my choice of words. “I had friends there and made it home safely.”
“But you learned your lesson.”
“Yep.” I take a drink, realizing that the lesson I’d forgotten was that beer tastes gross. I smile at him over the rim of my Solo cup. “So, not into sports.”
“I’m more of a thinker. I’m going into engineering.”
“Cool.” I pray that this doesn’t trigger a conversation about engineering, because I know nothing about it and I’m interested even less.
“What are you majoring in?”
Well, that subject is nearly as bad. “Right now? Nothing. I took a semester off.”
“Right on.”
“I’m coming back in January, though,” I say quickly. “I think I’ll major in English.”
“Cool.”
I guess he doesn’t know much about my preferred field, either. We linger for a moment in awkward silence before a new song starts in the living room.
“Want to dance?” he asks, just as I spot Sterling’s brooding face behind him.
“Yes!” I abandon my beer on the counter and grab his hand.
I drag Jeremy toward the unofficial dance floor. So, it’s not my finest moment, but a girl can’t be held accountable when the guy who broke her heart is a few feet away, especially if said heart is still in pieces. Plus, Jeremy seems like a nice guy and I’m determined not to let Sterling’s presence ruin my night.
Jeremy suffers from the typical male problem of mistaking grinding for dancing, but since I want to make it clear I’m not waiting around on Sterling, it works out in the end. The crowded room is sticky from so many bodies being packed so tightly into the small space. After a few minutes, I feel Jeremy’s hands on my hips. I lean into it, letting my body take over. I lose track of the number of songs we dance to. At least Jeremy has stamina. His hands turn me around so my back is against his body. Then his arms wrap around my waist, holding me closer to him, and I realize that stamina isn’t the only thing he has—he’s also got an erection. I wiggle, trying to put a little distance between us. The message he’s sending is coming through loud and clear. It’s time to send a response.
I must be responding too subtly, because instead of giving me space, he yanks me back again, pressing himself harder against my butt.
I pull away, pushing sweaty strands of hair out of my eyes. “Maybe we should go outside. It’s hot in here.”
“No, that’s just you,” he says, his eyes hooded. He reaches for me and pulls me back into his arms. “Let’s keep dancing.”
“I really need air.” How much clearer can I be?
“In a minute.” His face angles down, and I realize a second too late that he’s aiming for my lips. They close over mine, and my palms flatten against his chest, shoving him. He breaks away and turns confused eyes on me.
“Stop!”
“Fine,” he says, grinning like this is all a misunderstanding. “We’ll keep dancing.” The hands on my hips tighten their hold on me.
“I need to find my friends.” I look around, squirming against his hold, hoping that I’ll spot Poppy or Kai in the crowd. I’d even settle for Cyrus.
“They’re around. Don’t worry.” Jeremy is not getting the message.
“I really need to go find them,” I repeat more firmly.
“Adair,” he starts, but before he can finish the thought he is thrown backwards like he’s a yo-yo.
Jeremy crashes against the wall, knocking a few people over along the way, before I process what happened. He slides to the floor, but as soon as he tries to scramble to his feet, Sterling is there.
Someone arrives at my side, and I look over to see Poppy. She clutches my arm, but before she can ask what happened, Sterling lifts Jeremy up by the collar of his shirt and slams him against the wall again, knocking loose dusty plaster.
“She said she wants to go,” Sterling says, dropping him on to his feet, only to shove him hard in the chest.
“Who the fuck are you?” Jeremy brushes off his shirt.
“Her boyfriend,” Sterling roars.
“Oh!” Poppy’s fingernails dig into my arm. That’s the moment I decide to intervene.
“Enough.” I grab the back of Sterling’s shirt, and he turns toward me.
“He was touching you.” His eyes blaze with unrepressed fury.
“That’s none of your—”
Before I can finish. Jeremy grabs Sterling by the collar, spins him around, and lands a right hook square on his jaw. It stuns Sterling, but only momentarily. He recovers and slams into Jeremy, and the pair crash onto the ground. A few seconds later, more guys jump in to pull them apart.
“Get that asshole out of here,” Jeremy shouts.
Two of his friends drag Sterling out the front door. I’m torn between following and staying.
“That’s your fucking boyfriend?” Jeremy comes over, wiping blood from his lip.
“No. I mean, yes. I…” I say, then realize he’s the last person I’m going to explain this to.