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Chapter One

Jordan

I toss a bunch of balled-up T-shirts into my duffel bag as my phone pings from the stupid group chat I’m forced to be part of.

No matter how many times I tell these idiots to stop adding me, they do it anyway.

Glancing at the bag, I try to recall how many pairs of pants and shorts I put in there, but with all the dinging and vibrating, I can’t remember.

I rummage around, digging through the clothes, and see only two, so I look around my floor for anything that looks clean and toss it on top, then break a sweat zipping it up and pray it doesn’t pop open.

Whatever is in there will have to do. It’s only a weekend trip to Vegas—I should be fine.

The things I need but can’t pack yet are in a pile in the bathroom—toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and all that. My iPad and headphones are on my nightstand with my charger. It’ll all go in my backpack in the morning.

Putting my duffel against the wall, I drop onto my bed and scroll through the group chat.

There is too much to read, so I browse quickly, hoping to catch anything important.

Of course, nothing is important. Just a bunch of guys from the team talking about a party this weekend that they know I won’t be at since I won’t be here.

Take me outta this shit. You know I’m going to Vegas this weekend, assholes.

My phone goes off a few more times, but then it stops.

Thank fuck. According to everyone who knows of my impending trip, I’m going to have the time of my life.

Guy like me, who makes it known how much I love to party and fuck?

Vegas is the place to be. Maybe some of that is true, but something in my gut tells me it’s all going to go to shit, thanks to Alex Brewer coming along.

When Austen, one of my best friends, told me he was getting married, and that he wanted me to be a part of the wedding, I knew his brother would be involved too.

Maybe if Austen knew there was tension between his older brother and me, he’d let me off the hook, but no one knows about the shit between me and Alex.

It’s obvious and pretty clear in my opinion, but nothing has happened. It can’t. I won’t allow it .

Whatever thing I feel toward Alex is wrong. I’m not sure what to blame it on or how to explain it, but I do know that whatever it is, it needs to fucking go away.

Had I been ten when this little crush started, I’d blame it on not knowing any better, but considering these strange thoughts started when I was eighteen, the summer before leaving for college, I can’t blame it on not knowing any better .

I don’t like guys; I’m as straight as they come. So being attracted to Alex can’t be a thing. Alex knows that, but it doesn’t stop him from staring at me with that look every time we’re in the same room. I at least fight the urge to look at him, because this cannot happen.

My phone dings again, and I pick it up. It's Austen.

You all packed?

Yeah, I’m good.

Cool. See you tomorrow night.

My classes for the day are done. I have two tomorrow morning, then I’m free before I have to head to the airport.

A few of us are carpooling, since most of us live on campus.

All of Austen’s side of the wedding party will be there, while his fiancee and her party are off to North Carolina to live it up at the Biltmore.

Which I assume is as bougie as it sounds—typical Savannah .

It’s not that I hate her, I just can’t stand being in a room with her for more than thirty seconds.

I plan on making sure Austen knows what he’s going to be missing out on by marrying Satan—I mean Savannah. He needs to live it up while we’re in Vegas this weekend because once he’s got that ball and chain in place, his life will be over.

Drinking. Partying. Lots of tits and ass. That’s what we’re getting into this weekend, and I don’t want to hear shit from Austen about it. His best friend, Cameron, better not talk him out of it either. He’s good at that, but this weekend, I will not allow it.

Cameron is another point of tension for me for this weekend, but at least he’s easier to manage than Alex.

Ignoring Cameron is simple. He’ll leave to do his own thing rather than argue back if I give him a hard time.

Alex is going to be with us the entire time, because it’s known he’s as much of a party animal as I am and he loves to be the center of attention.

When my phone dings again, I pick it up to shut it off, but change my mind when I see the text staring at me.

Oh, by the way, the guys all picked their roommates so you’ll be with Alex.

“You have got to be fucking joking,” I mutter out loud.

Hudson puts three shot glasses down on the table, while the waitress who followed him over puts down the glasses of beer.

“Thanks!” I call out as I grab a shot glass with one hand and slide my beer closer to me with the other.

Paul does the same, while Hudson sits and grabs his drinks. We lift our shots into the air, smiling like idiots.

“Here’s to Vegas, baby!” Paul shouts, slapping the table with his free hand.

It’s hardly heard over the sports games on the TVs and the chatter from all the patrons.

The Den is the closest bar to campus, and they embrace the fact they are a college bar.

Among the sports memorabilia on the walls are printed out report cards and failed papers.

They’ve only been open for a little over two years, but it’s at the point they may have to stop people from putting stuff up, or get rid of the old ones.

Hudson and me whoop loudly before throwing the shots back. The whiskey burns all the way down, until it settles in my stomach.

“Where the fuck is Andre?” Hudson asks Paul, letting out a loud burp.

“Class,” he mutters.

“Should have skipped,” I say. “Drinking is more fun.” I take a mouthful of beer. Of course, that’s easy for me to say when my class load is light, and I don’t have to worry about skipping.

“He said something about failing if he missed any more days,” Paul explains.

“He’s going to get himself kicked off the team if he doesn’t get his shit together,” I comment.

“Not my problem,” Hudson says, pushing the shot glasses to the end of the table. Easy for Hudson to say, he’s smart as a tack when it comes to his academics.

A young server comes over with a tray full of food that makes my mouth water. We each get our burgers that we ordered, while the other three plates are put in the middle. Tater tot nachos, mozzarella sticks, and boneless buffalo wings.

Fuck, I’m starving.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” he asks, picking up the empty glasses and putting them on the tray.

“More shots!” Paul announces as he reaches for a mozzarella stick.

“Whiskey?” he asks.

“Hell yeah.” Paul grins, seemingly impressed by the server’s ability to guess, but you could smell those glasses from a mile away.

“Oh, shit! Look who it is!” Hudson announces, pointing toward the crowd of people.

I turn my head to see who he’s pointing at.

The twins .

They spot us as soon as I look at them, and they grin as they walk this way.

“Hey, guys,” Selena says, scooting in beside me while Sasha sits across from me, next to Hudson. “I thought you all were leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” I say, picking up my burger and taking a huge bite.

This place has the best burgers. Thick and juicy. The guys and I come here at least once a week during happy hour because the beers are only two bucks and the apps are half off.

“What are you guys doing after this?” Sasha asks, reaching over to grab a tot smothered in nacho cheese.

“Hanging out with you, of course,” I say with a wink.

She giggles as she bites half the tot.

The twins are known around campus for partying.

They’re pretty fucking crazy, if you ask me.

They hardly say no to anything, including sex—even with multiple people.

They are living up their college days, which makes them the perfect girls to hang out with to keep up the reputation I’ve built. No expectations, no strings, just fun.

“There’s a party at some off-campus house a few blocks away,” Serena explains. “We were going to head there in about an hour.”

“We’ll come with you,” Paul says, dipping a wing into the ranch dressing .

“Tell Andre to meet us there,” Hudson says to Paul, who pulls out his phone and sends him a text.

A waitress comes over, delivering the three shots we ordered.

We ask for two more, since the girls are with us now.

We spend the next hour eating and drinking, and when we’re done, Hudson foots the bill since he says if he doesn’t spend his money, his parents will think he doesn’t need it and won’t give him more.

Must be a nice problem to have, something I’ll never understand.

We walk the few blocks to the party that is in full swing with music blasting, strobe lights, and half-empty bottles of alcohol in every room. Hopefully I’ll get so drunk that I’ll stop thinking about the fact I’ll be sleeping in the same room as Alex Brewer for an entire weekend.