The frat party was going along like I’d expected. After Van and I won at beer pong with Kristie and Cheyenne, I decided to hang with Kristie. After all, she was the hottest girl in the room. Like a blonde angel. And her eyes…they were the prettiest I’d ever seen.
It didn’t take long–people were getting trashed. One girl (who I found out later was Phoebe Reynolds, one of Cheyenne and Kristie’s best friends) was being held by a dude (Phoebe’s boyfriend) and downing a shit ton of beer.
It didn’t end well. But everyone got a laugh out of it.
Then Kristie asked if I wanted to do some karaoke.
I said yes. This should have warned me that I was verging on shit-faced myself, but wtf. It was a party and I’d hoped I was going to score with this beauty later on. Why not humor her?
I noticed Cheyenne getting her party on as well, swilling loads of beer. I knew Van wanted her so I didn’t really think about what she was doing.
Grabbing a mic, Kristie and I started on a country song. Honestly, Kristie couldn’t sing even with autotune. It almost made my ears bleed.
So I tried to sing a little louder. I had my pride to think about. But most people were drunk anyway and probably wouldn’t remember how awful we were. I could see it now in the school newspaper: FOXBURY QUARTERBACK KILLS PEOPLE WITH DUET.
I wasn’t going to take that chance. But it didn’t help. We were killing it. Literally.
On our next song, Kristie invited Cheyenne to sing with us. I was kind of worried. Cheyenne looked all wobbly from the booze, and I had no idea if she could sing or not. I’d decided this would be my last song.
But on her first note, I was amazed. She had the most incredible voice I’d ever heard.
My voice blended with hers so amazingly that I couldn’t even hear Kristie’s off tune warbles.
After another song, I was mesmerized by our harmony and basically forgot about my infatuation with Kristie.
I saw Cheyenne in a whole new way. I didn’t know if it was the liquor or her singing but when I compared the two, Cheyenne outshined Kristie in every way. Kristie was like this pretty boring Barbie doll, but Cheyenne was a sexy rocking goddess. I couldn’t help the attraction. Sure I felt the cold stares Kristie was throwing at me during the song, but I was overwhelmed. Could anyone blame me?
On our last song, I didn’t even realize Cheyenne and I had totally taken over as a duet. The crowd was going wild, hooting and hollering for us. God, it was such a fucking high. I’d never forget it.
Cheyenne was such a party animal though. I thought she was sexy as fuck, too, but I kind of was getting nervous for her when she started singing and dancing on the tables in the kitchen. She was going to break her neck like that.
So, I stepped in. “Cheyenne, hey, don’t you think you should dance on the floor where it’s safe? I’ll dance with you.”
That made her stop. She bent down and said, “You will?”
I chuckled. She was so much fun but seriously, she was crazy drunk, she probably needed to go back to her dorm and sleep it off. “Yeah, I’ll dance with you.”
Then she grabbed onto me wrapping her legs around my waist, staring into my eyes. I felt this instant bond with her like I knew she was something special. Like I’d found this one in a million girl.
“I…think I love you,” she whispered.
Now when a girl says something like that half drunk, I wouldn’t think anything about it. Just an inebriated jag, but there was something in her eyes that made me believe her.
I didn’t know what to say. “You do?”
In answer, she pulled my face to hers and pressed her lips to mine in a delicious kiss that got me instantly aroused.
Before I could stop it, we were all over each other and I was trying to figure out how I was going to get out of this. Trust me. I wanted her. And not just for a one night stand. I, Zachary Hawthorne, two-time All American quarterback, slated to be a first round draft pick, sworn lady killer and bachelor, wanted to become this girl’s boyfriend after spending only a few hours with her.
I had to be fucking crazy.
Today was the worst.
The worst morning. The worst hangover. And I’d been the worst friend to Kristie. She wouldn’t even pick up when I tried to call her. It just automatically went to voicemail like I was blocked.
I walked over to Phoebe’s room to see if it was my imagination or was Kristie really trying to avoid me.
“It’s not your imagination,” Phoebe said, making a plate of pizza pockets. “She’s mad.
“I mean, like, you were all over him in the kitchen, Chey. Everyone saw. And then you guys sneaked up to your room and we didn’t see you again all night. Like what is she supposed to think? I mean, she’s been crushing on him all semester, too.”
I shook my head. “How was I supposed to know he was the Foxbury quarterback she’d been gushing about? I don’t follow football.” But even that sounded like lame excuses to my ears. I should have known.
My drunk self saw Kristie making goo goo eyes at him.
He was HER type. Not mine. So why did I end up in bed with him? Why did I not want to release myself from his grip when I sobered up? And why did I desperately want to go to a football game and meet back up with him?
“I’m not going to see him again, so you can tell her that for me,” I said, weakly, sitting on the couch. “Then maybe she’ll unblock me from her phone.”
Phoebe peered down at me imperiously. “Damage has been done. This is about trust and you’ve broken it.”
When I didn’t say anything, she said, “But you’ve been friends for too many years for her to throw it out over some guy. He’s not worth it and since you’re not going to see him again, maybe she’ll forgive you.”
“You think so?” I said, grasping at any shreds of hope.
My brother stopped working on his graphic design project. Both Phoebe and he were art majors–he’s going into graphic design and Phoebe hopes to do app design. After camp when we were twelve, Phoebe shattered her mother’s dreams of her starring on the stage and told her she was an artist, which amazingly the woman took pretty well. She now believes Phoebe will be a famous illustrator one day even though Phoebe has no intentions of doing that.
“Look on the bright side, sis, if you do hook up with him again, he might give us free tickets to his games. I love football. And you know Britechester sucks. I’d rather root for the Lobsters.”
Phoebe glared at my brother. “That’s not helpful, Kian. We don’t want her to go out with him again. Think about Kristie’s feelings!”
“Oh yeah. Sorry.”
I wasn’t about to tell my brother I already had two box seat tickets to tonight’s game. I felt guilty enough that I really wanted to go.
I decided I needed to sleep off the anguish that was in my heart and the stabbing headache from all the alcohol I drank last night.
But when I saw my bed, I couldn’t get Zachary out of my mind.
He’d towered over me as he cradled my body, not wanting to let go, and I succumbed, promising him I’d see him. Thank God I didn’t give him my phone number.
I just wanted to hide away from everyone and everything.