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with the guy next to her as best she could over the Paint it Black cover song.

“This place is cool, right?” Javon asked over the ambient roar as he deposited a beer glass in her hand.

“Oh, thanks! I’ll get you back,” Ari shouted.

“There’s supposed to be some kind of patio in the back.

Do you want to check it out?”

Ari took a gulp of her beer, wishing it wasn’t so bitter, and nodded. Sliding between strangers was even less fun than she imagined. By the time they popped out the fire door in the back, Ari’s suit jacket was crumpled and her dress askew. As she straightened her clothes, she lamented not being able to get all the foreign colognes and perfumes o her.

The covered terrace was small and protected from the city street by black security bars, but the artificial turf, Edison string lights, and patio furniture made it look comfortable and inviting.

“This is nice,” Javon decided before plopping onto an upholstered deck chair.

“At least I can hear you out here,” Ari joked, slipping one leg underneath herself as she sat across from Javon, grateful for the industrial fan cooling the stale, late summer air.

The relative silence was short-lived. A few minutes later, the door opened, letting out music and about a dozen of their classmates.

“Shots!” Dave yelled before shoving a tiny glass full of vodka in Ari’s face.

“Oh, no. I’m good,” she tried to protest, but an hour later she’d been muscled into two Lemon Drops and another beer.

Relaxed and verging on tipsy, Ari

wasn’t prepared for Javon’s questions.

“So, what’s her deal?” he asked, his voice husky and far away.

“What?” Ari had the distinct impression she’d missed the beginning of a much longer conversation.

“Sloane,” Dave explained, taking a swig from a brown bottle. “She’s literally the only person not here other than the flunkers.”

Ari furrowed her brow. When did five dudes gather around her waiting for her edict on Sloane? She’d already told them what she thought of her.

“Oh shit, maybe she failed,” Farooq mused, absentmindedly running his fingers over his stubble-covered chin.

“No way,” Ari replied. “She’s just a snob. We’re not on her level,” she added out of habit.

Despite the conversation having moved on to something else, Ari’s mind was stuck. Transported to the past by a booze-train, she remembered the first time she met Sloane.

GONE from the steamy confines of the outdoor terrace, Ari was back at the University of Miami standing in line to register for orientation. It was her first day of law school. A day she’d been imagining for years.

The tall girl in line ahead of her was wearing a short, dark blue dress and tailored marigold yellow jacket. Ari noticed how the color of the blazer matched the ends of her long

hair. The tone darkened as it climbed up her wavy strands so perfectly, Ari was sure it had to be a dye job. A pricey one.

When Ari dropped her cellphone, she cursed. Squatting to pick it up, Ari looked away from her tanned, sculpted legs.

Elegant hands snatched Ari’s phone as she reached for it.

Glancing up, Ari was unprepared for the glistening, almond-shaped eyes staring back at her. The hazel depths were a shifting sea of stormy blue-green waves crashing against the wooden hull of a ship.

“Thanks,” Ari managed, her fingers grazing the soft skin of her hand as she accepted her property’s return.

“No worries,” Sloane said with the kind of smile that created a delightful throbbing in Ari’s stomach. “I drop mine all the time. I had to invest in one of those bulky cases. It’s heinous, but at least I don’t have to change my screen every other week.”

“I know right.” Ari laughed for no appreciable reason. She stifled it as quickly as possible, but the damage had been done. She looked unhinged in front of the long-lost love child of Sofia Vergara and Brad Pitt. “I’ll have to get one,”