Page 30 of Stay (Stay #1)

CASSIDY

W e stay in Friday night and stuff our faces with pepperoni pizza while marathoning reality TV shows. Saturday afternoon is more of the same. I fill Cole in on the situation with Brooklyn and Austin, and he says he’ll speak with his friend. Hopefully, get him to back off for a while.

Even though I love spending time with Cole, it’s nice that we can do our own thing and still be good. After this weekend, I need to carve out more time for Brooklyn.

By eight o’clock on Saturday night, my roommate is climbing the walls with the need to escape our dorm and hit one of the fraternity parties that seem to be a constant around here.

Since Cole and Austin are throwing a bash of their own, she won’t have to worry about running into her ex, which is a relief.

Looking to draw as much male attention as possible, Brooklyn chooses a short, black skirt and a low-cut, red shirt that clings to her curves and does amazing things for her boobs. They almost defy gravity with their perkiness.

Not wanting to encourage any male attention, I throw on a pair of skinny jeans and a pretty pink cashmere sweater that is soft and well-loved.

But not exactly sexy. I leave that to Brooklyn, who has decided to pull out all the stops tonight.

Since this is clearly a hunting expedition, Brooklyn leaves her long blonde hair free to float around her shoulders in big soft curls.

It’s her secret weapon. Not that she needs one.

She’s gorgeous and never lacks for male attention no matter what she’s wearing.

How she manages to look like sex on a stick, all the while appearing angelic, is beyond me.

I leave my hair down because the weather has turned cold, and I want my neck and ears to be warm. You never know if a party will be inside or outdoors.

She sprays us both with perfume and pronounces us ready to go.

We meet up with a bunch of girls from our floor before walking to fraternity row. I’ve seen most of them around but don’t know any the way Brooklyn seems to. It only slams home the fact that I’ve been spending a lot of time with Cole and not enough with Brooklyn or trying to make new friends.

By the time we reach the party, the house is already bursting at the seams with people. I scan the street and notice quite a few parties happening up and down the block.

Brooklyn scopes out the talent—her words not mine—as we make our way through the first floor to the backyard where the beer is flowing freely.

The guy in charge of the keg takes one look at Brooklyn before giving her a Solo cup on the house.

With a flirty smile tipping the corners of her lips, she tells him that mine should be free as well.

He agrees, and we both walk away with full cups of beer.

I stare down at the frothy bubbles dancing along the rim of my red plastic cup and silently debate whether to drink it.

It’s obvious that Brooklyn is pulling out all the stops tonight, and I’m not exactly a big drinker.

I haven’t been trashed since last year. That experience left a bitter taste lingering in my mouth, and I’ve steered clear of alcohol ever since.

Getting kicked out of another school isn’t high on my priority list.

Brooklyn holds up her cup before tapping the rim against mine as her gaze scans the thick crowd. “Drink up, Cassidy. One beer won’t kill you. ”

“I know.” But still…

It feels like a slippery slope.

Her fingers wrap around my arm before she gives me a pleading look. “We hardly go out anymore. Just this one night, let’s have fun together, okay?”

One of my brows jerks up. “Are you seriously trying to peer pressure me into drinking?”

“Ha! That’s not peer pressure, this is peer pressure.” She closes the distance between us before getting in my face. “I won’t be your friend unless you toss back a couple of cold ones with me. Don’t you want to be cool like the rest of us? Don’t be a loser, Cassidy. Come on, drink up.”

We both burst out laughing as she retreats a few steps, her eyes sparkling with humor. It’s nice to see her smile and forget about all the Austin drama for even a few minutes.

Deep down, I know she’s right.

One beer won’t kill me.

My mind tumbles back over the previous few weeks and I run through a quick self-check. I haven’t felt any real anxiousness or nervousness. Everything has been going well. Would it really hurt to have a beer or two?

I blow out a steady breath and decide to go for it before taking a small sip and allowing the yeasty flavor to trickle down the back of my throat.

You know what it tastes like?

Failure.

I almost snort.

“See?” Brooklyn snaps her fingers. “Works like a charm every time.” She drains her beer in one thirsty gulp. “Guess I better get a refill.”

Dangling the cup in her fingers, she swings toward the silver barrel.

I bring the beer to my lips for another drink and watch as the guy manning the keg waves Brooklyn to the front of the line.

Much to the grumbling protests of the people she just cut in front of, he refills her cup.

With a bright smile, she gives him a peck on the cheek before whispering something in his ear that leaves him smiling.

With a shake of my head, I narrow my eyes as Brooklyn makes her way back to me. “I hope you’re not promising sexual favors in return for quick service at the keg.”

It’s a joke.

Kind of.

That angelic expression is back in place. “I promised no such thing.” She loops her arm through mine before towing me through the thick, jostling crowd. “Let’s go find some hot guys to flirt with.”

“I don’t need a hot guy.” I refrain from mentioning that I already have one.

A chuckle falls from her lips as she tugs me along. “I meant for me, silly.”

Thirty minutes later, we’re dancing, laughing, and singing along obnoxiously to the loud music.

Brooklyn isn’t drunk, but she certainly isn’t feeling any pain.

I’m sure tomorrow morning will be a different story.

I’ve had two drinks, and although I’m nowhere near drunk, I’m pleasantly buzzed.

It’s just enough to make me feel loose and happy.

Brooklyn is grinding up against a cute fraternity guy and I’m dancing with another. He seems harmless so I’m not overly concerned. I haven’t let him put his hands on me, so I don’t feel like I’m giving him any mixed signals. It’s all just lighthearted fun.

After a couple of songs, the guy I’m dancing with leans closer so he can be heard over the pounding beat. Even though he’s tall, muscular, and good-looking with short blond hair.

“Do you want another drink?”

I shake my head. One of us needs to be sober enough to get us home tonight, and it isn’t going to be Brooklyn. “No, I’ve had enough, but thanks.”

With a smile, he inches closer until there’s only a handful of inches that separate us.

His eyes fill with questions as he studies me as if trying to guess where he knows me from.

I have to admit, there’s something strangely familiar about him as well.

Even though Western is a big school, you tend to run into the same people on campus or at parties.

Unease blooms inside me as he continues his intense perusal.

“You’re really pretty,” he says.

With a nervous smile, I take a hasty step in retreat, wanting to create more distance between us. “Thanks.”

“You said that your name is Cassidy, right?” A thoughtful expression flickers across his face.

I nod, unable to remember his name. Or if he even told it to me.

“Can I get your number? Maybe we could hang out some time?”

The last thing I want to do is lead him on. “Sorry, I have a boyfriend.”

Honestly, I’m not sorry at all. Even the thought of Cole is enough to have me fighting back a smile. As happy as I am to be here with Brooklyn, it’s Cole I’d rather be dancing with.

He glances around before raising a brow. “If you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let you go to a fraternity party all by yourself.”

Irritation sparks to life inside me. “He trusts me.” Then I add so we’re perfectly clear, “And I like him. I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up.”

He jerks his head into a nod as if accepting that I’m not interested. “He’s a lucky guy.”

Relief rushes through me as my muscles loosen. “Thanks.”

He stares at me for a long moment before giving his head a little shake. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

Instead of answering, his fingers curl into a give it to me gesture. “Just hand it over.”

Uncertain what to do, I slide my phone from the back pocket of my jeans before holding it out to him.

He plucks the slim device from my fingers.

My teeth sink into my lower lip as I watch him scroll through my contacts list before tapping in his information.

A second later, his phone buzzes with an incoming message.

“When you break up with that guy, give me a call and we’ll go out. ”

Just as my fingers wrap around the cell, he brushes his lips across my cheek before disappearing into the crowd.

Almost absently, my fingers drift over the spot.

I can’t believe he did that. As I slip the phone back into my pocket, I glance around for Brooklyn.

I catch sight of a few girls from our floor but not her.

For the next ten minutes, I scour the backyard before moving inside the house. I’m busy scanning the crowded kitchen when I smack into a hard body. An apology sits on the tip of my tongue as I glance up and lock gazes with the last person I expected to see.

“Austin, what are you doing here?”

Instead of responding, he pulls out his phone and taps the screen a couple of times before turning it toward me.

My eyes widen as I stare at a picture of Brooklyn and the guy she’d been dancing with.

In the photo, his arms are wrapped tightly around her.

One hand is curved around her backside as she laughs.