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“Oh shit.” She lurches back, stumbling on her heels and then bends. I reach out to steady her and her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh God.”

“Are you okay?”

“Bathroom. Now.”

Oh fuck. She’s going to puke.

I slip my arm around her waist and help her down the hall. “Bathroom?” I ask every person we pass. A few people look at us, but no one does much other than nod down the hall. “Hey! Anyone know where the bathroom is?”

As we get to the end of the hall, a door swings open and a couple stumbles out. She straightens her skirt while he buttons his jeans. I spot the toilet behind them. “Move!” I shout, pushing Brianna inside.

“Watch it, bitch,” the girl says, but I slam the door in her face. Brianna falls on her knees, forcing her short skirt over her ass. A thin strip of black lace is visible. I know it’s not the right time to think about it, but Knox is wrong. Briannaiswearing panties.

“Hooooarrrk.” She heaves into the toilet. A rainbow of colors comes up—all juice, Jell-O, and clear liquor.

Standing behind her, I pull back her hair as she rests her arms on the toilet seat and lurches forward, vomiting everything up. “Oh god,” she moans. “I feel like death.”

Wrinkling my nose at the combined scent of fruit and bile, I reach over her to grab a roll of paper towels off the counter. She straightens and my crotch presses into her backside. I rest a hand on her backside to steady myself right as the door swings open.

Knox stands in the doorway with a redhead. A smirk tugs at his lips. “Yeah, that’s my boy.” He makes a thrusting motion. “Oh.” He shoves his hand in his pocket and throws something at me. It bounces off my chest and onto the counter. It’s a square foil package. A condom. “Don’t forget to wrap up, otherwise it’s like fucking the whole frat house.”

He winks and slams the door.

“What a fucking dick,” I mutter, staring down at the condom. Then I realize… at least my cover isn’t blown?

God, one party and I’ve already turned into one of these monsters.

“It’s coming,” Brianna announces from between my legs, before gagging and spitting into the toilet again.

I let her get out a few more heaves, but people in the hall start banging on the door, shouting for us to hurry. “We need to go,” I say, helping her to her feet. “Where do you want to me to take you?”

“Sleep,” she mutters. “Put me to sleep.”

“Okay. Where do you live?” Getting out of here isn’t the worst idea. My head feels heavy. Woozy. The alcohol pumping through my system.

“Here. Wherever. I don’t care.”

I think on it while every cell in my body fights against the urge to run. To call Grayson and tell him I’m out. To pack up and leave, but Brianna moans and leans her full body weight against me. I don’t like the idea of leaving this girl in one of the rooms, which means I’m going to have to stay with her. This night just keeps getting better and better.

“I have an idea,” I tell her.

It takes a few minutes, but I manage to get her up the stairs to the second floor. Thankfully, Brianna isn’t built like the captain of the volleyball team. She’s one of those tiny cheerleaders they put on top of the pyramid.

I mostly carry her down the hall, past what I know is a common area for the residents. I also know there are bedrooms on this floor. I know because Royer brought me through here on the way to his room. There’s a smaller kitchen, a game and entertainment room. I pass the open doors of the entertainment room where a video game is playing on one screen and a porno is on the other. The tables are littered with beer bottles and a couple of bongs. Weed smoke wafts into the hall. I hear a female giggle but keep going, refusing to look and see who is in there—if Royer is watching that movie or if he’s with the girl. I can’t decide what’s worse… that he’s a dick to me or that, apparently, he’s fucking every female he meets.

A plaque is mounted to the door I’m looking for. I squint, trying to read the words:Study Room.

With one hand I prop Brianna up against the wall, with the other I open the door. It’s dark inside other than the bluish-glow of resting computers. Across the room is a couch.

“Come on,” I say, dragging her inside. “You can sleep in here.”

Brianna rolls onto the couch, and I try to pull down her skirt. It’s pointless—it’s too short and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t care. Exhausted, drunk, and worn out, I slump next to her, letting my eyelids droop closed. Darkness engulfs me like I’m being pulled under. Brianna shifts next to me and a moment later her breath is on my cheek. “Thank you.” Her voice slurs. “For being so sweet.”

Her soft lips press into my cheek, then pepper along my jaw. “Your skin is so soft.”

“Brianna.” I try to move, to tell her that she doesn’t want to kiss me, that I’m not sweet, I’m just not who she thinks I am, but the words are heavy on my tongue. I face her and our noses bump into one another. Her mouth is on mine, tongue slipping through my lips.

It’s not until her hand, warm and gentle, rests on my thigh, fingers inching toward the fly of my jeans, that I drag myself out of the abyss. “No!” My hand covers her. “No. No, I can’t.”