Forget him.

“Let’s check out the bar,” I say, and we brush past co-eds, loud music drifting up to our ears from their party room in the basement. They have a DJ. Margo won’t be happy.

I chance a look, and she’s scowling behind her mask, her eyes bouncing over the black balloons and streamers, the banner on the wall displaying their Greek letters. She curses, her hands clenched.

“Madame President, let it go! Alcohol!” I say with my fist raised. “Let it be so!”

“Fine!” Margo blazes a path for us until we reach the makeshift bar set up on a granite-top island in the spacious kitchen. Shiiiit. They’ve redone their house, and the space is airy and bright with sparkling stainless steel appliances and pretty white cabinets.

The bartender, a handsome fellow in a Theta shirt—boyfriend to some collegian, I assume—leans in.

“I need to see your bands if you want a drink.”

Margo pouts. “We lost them.”

“True story,” Penelope adds. “Some girl grabbed all three when we were in the restroom. You know how those underage kids are.” She makes a tsking noise and shakes her head.

“Uh-huh.” He arches a brow. “Move along now. Go back and get some new ones.”

I push them aside and look up at him. I know him from one of my design classes, Theo something.

“Look, Theo, we have an upper level design class together with Mrs. Owens. She’s a real ballbuster, right? I still haven’t done that website design she wants us to do.” I give him a big smile, my red lips curving up. Tonight the color is Red Hot. “Please, have some sympathy for us. Besides, it was nerdy Chi-Os who stole our bracelets. They’re probably drinking all your good alcohol right now. Bitches.”

Margo elbows me.

He grins. “I ain’t got a thing against Chi-Os. Sorry, can’t serve you.”

I lean down farther until my cleavage is more visible. “Sure, but come on, you know me. I’m of age. You even got an A on that last font project. Sharp and original. I dig your use of bold color. I want to be like you.”

He cocks his head. “Yeah, that was a good one.”

“Spectacular! Give us some drinks…please.” I smile.

His gaze brushes over my face and lingers on my breasts before coming back up. “Ah, I don’t know. You’re pretty, though. Wish I could.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty? You’re so sweet. Who’s your girlfriend?” Cause we both know you’ve got one, buddy. I keep my smile on. I’ve played this game before—show cleavage, flirt, get what you want.

He mumbles her name, but I don’t know it.

“I know her! I’m going to tell her how awesome you are—and that you said I was pretty, maybe how you looked at my tits.”

His face reddens.

I smile. “Don’t be mad. Now, how about those drinks?”

“Uh, sure, I guess it’s okay. What do you want?”

“You’re the best, Theo,” I say brightly as I shove a few dollars in his tip jar. Drinks are free, but I feel bad about manipulating him. Sometimes a girl just has to do what it takes.

We all three ask for two tequilas each and then shoot one back. I wince. Not top shelf, but it gets the job done.

“Beer, please,” comes a deep voice behind me, and I pause mid-sip on the second one. I’d know him anywhere, that husky gold and gray sound and the heat from his skin. He’s close, just inches away.

Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.

It’s been a tense week after our study session. I won’t be making that mistake again.

He came into class the next day a little cool. I caught him giving me long glances, and part of me—the stupid side—wanted to talk to him more, see if I could get more out of him, but he got up and left as soon as class was over.

After he gets his beer and steps back a few feet, I let out a sigh of relief.

Penelope, who I elbowed when he showed up, studies him over my shoulder. She recognizes him too. “Ah, Blaze. He’s not the same, you know. I mean, I see him smiling, but Ryker says he’s moody.” She frowns and looks back at me. “I feel like we haven’t talked much. Are you doing okay?”

I toss back my drink. “I will be as soon as I get another one of these in me.” It has been difficult sitting next to him in class. How am I going to be able to finish the semester?

Her eyes take in my face. “You aren’t seeing anyone. You won’t even entertain the idea of me setting you up. There’s a cute guy in one of my classes. I think you’d like—”

I stop her with a pointed look. “I have a date coming up. I’m fine.” I consider telling her about Mike, but I don’t. The truth is, I’m not looking forward to it.

She sighs, clinking her glass with mine. “Fine, I’ll shut up. I’ve missed this with you.”

“Well, good thing Ryker wanted to study.”

She blushes. “He’ll see me later at the house.”

I exhale. Of course. Glad I got earplugs.

We order another round, and I’m acutely aware that Blaze hasn’t moved from a spot near the fridge. I refuse to look at him head-on, in case I’m not incognito enough for him. I keep facing the bar, but my ears strain to hear him talking.

And why? Hasn’t he made it plain he doesn’t want me anymore?

FTS.

“Let’s go downstairs,” I say, and we head that way.

The basement is dark and we take the steps carefully, passing people with different styles of masks. I take in every person, and it’s easy to recognize a few. Dillon, shaved head and all, is on the dance floor with a girl in his arms. I recognize some Thetas and keep my head down. You can’t go to school here and be Greek and not know other Greeks, but with my pink hair covered, I’m feeling confident, especially when we breeze past the Theta president and she doesn’t give us a second look.

Margo drifts away to check out the back sitting area where a group of Thetas are talking—eavesdropping, probably. Penelope darts to the restroom, and I lean against the wall and watch the gyrating bodies on the dance floor.

A few minutes later, a tall guy appears in front of me. Broad and muscular, he’s dressed in a black long-sleeved fisherman-style sweater. His mask fits smaller on his face, plain and simple.

My heart dips as I take in the way his free hand taps his leg.

I’d know him anywhere.

He could be in a football stadium with no number on his jersey, and I’d be able to point him out.

Being nonchalant, I move to walk around him, but there’s nowhere to go. People block me at every point.

“Hey there, great party.” He sips on his beer, eyes on my face. “Think I’ll stand here a sec and let the place clear out. You mind?”

“Sure. Great party!” I squeak. Crap. It sounds like I’ve been sucking helium. I clear my throat and try to ease the tension in my shoulders.

He’s right here in front of me and he looks…sexy as fuck. His hair is swept back, and my eyes graze over him, lingering on that spot of bare skin I see around his wrist, how the dark hair curls, how strong his fingers look as he holds the cup and takes a sip of his drink. All it takes is a wrist and fingers and I’m hot and bothered. SMN. Shoot me now.

“This your first party of the semester?” he asks me.

“Yeah, freshman here,” I say, smiling as I throw some Southern in my voice. At least it’s not squeaky.

His lips kick up. “Nice. Me too, go figure. You look familiar. Have we met?”

I shake my head no.

“Really? Huh. Guess not.” He glances around at the people milling past us, and I wait with bated breath to see if anyone recognizes him, but it seems we’re blending in for the moment.

Someone pushes against him from behind, and he’s jostled forward. He bumps into me, his chest pressing into mine before he steps back. I inhale his scent and it washes over me, making me shiver.

His hand takes my arm when I lose my footing. “Did I step on your toes? I’m sorry. These parties are ridiculous.”

We look down at my newly painted red toes. He did give me a good crunch, but I mumble a no.

“Let me see.” He bends down to take a look at my feet, and my breath hitches.

“I’m fine,” I say, still overdoing the accent, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He comes back up slowly, his eyes tracing my curves, lingering on my breasts before rising to my face. He stays there a long time, looking at me over the rim of his Solo cup. “Hmmmm. Nice shoes, by the way.”

“Why did you come if you thought it would be ridiculous?” I ask, surprised at the question coming from me. I shouldn’t invite conversation. I should get my ass out of here, but it’s him, and my body has other ideas. I want to draw this moment out, talk to him and pretend we don’t have a past. I really do, so much.

He huffs out a laugh and leans in. The music has gotten louder, and the only way to talk is to stand close. “Thought it might be fun if no one recognized me. Plus, there’s this girl. Thought she might show up.”

“Did she?”

He lowers his gaze on me in the dark room, searching my face. His lips curve up. “I don’t see her yet.”

Ah. I swallow. “Maybe any girl would do. No need to wait for just one.”

“Hmmm, you think? I really want to get to know her better. Crazy, right?”