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Yeah, nope. "Okay, never mind." I unbuckle my seat belt and go to open the door. "Stop the car. I'll walk."
I may not be in the place to make demands, but I've never been the type to let a guy think I need him, and I don't plan to start now. Instead of listening to me, Noah just chuckles and locks the doors.
"Relax, crazy," he says. "I'm just fucking with you."
I huff. "We are not at that level."
"You've been in my car twice now. I think that at least makes us friends."
Glancing in his direction, he winks at me and I roll my eyes. "It makes us acquaintances at best."
He hums and then shrugs. "I'll take it."
Douche.
The drive across campus takes a lot less time than it would have for me to walk. Especially in these shoes. We're a block away, but there's no doubt in my mind we're at the right place. The front yard is swarmed with people going in and out of the house, and as we get closer, the door opens and I can see how packed it is inside.
This has to be it.
Noah pulls over and puts the car in park, but the second he turns it off, my head whips over in his direction.
"Uh, what are you doing?"
He looks confused as he reaches for the door handle. "I'm coming with you."
I'm shaking my head before he even finishes his sentence. "No. Absolutely not. That's not happening."
"Seriously?" he balks. "You make me drive you to what looks like the biggest party of the year, and you won't let me come inside?"
I smile apologetically, but I don't mean it at all. "If I wanted a chaperone, I would've brought MissParties Are The Devil's Noise."
He cocks a brow and snickers. "The roommate is that bad?"
"You mean Beverly Babbington? Oh, she's just splendid."
I watch as he presses his lips together in an attempt to hold in his laughter, but he fails as it bubbles out.
"I'm so glad you find humor in my pain."
That only makes him laugh harder. "I'm sorry. It's just...Beverly Babbington the super vegan sounds like—"
"What nightmares are made of? Yeah. I know." I open the door and hop out of the car. "Thanks for the ride."
Standing back, I wait for him to drive away before I head inside. As the taillights fade into the darkness, I run my fingers through my hair and head up the walkway.
The house isn't the nicest, but it's decent for what I've seen around campus. The white siding could use a little TLC and the lawn is already littered with red solo cups, but other than that, it's not bad.
Stepping inside, the place is nearly filled to capacity. I can barely get in the door without bumping into someone. My eyes scan the room for the familiar face, but I don't see it at first. That is, until I hear the laugh I'd recognize anywhere. As I turn toward the kitchen, that's when I see him.
Carter Trayland.
He's wearing a football jersey, matching a guy who is currently standing on top of the island and a few others scattered around the room. Not surprising. Football players always like to throw the fact that they're on the team in people's faces.
I watch as he reaches up and hits his teammate in the balls. The guy hunches over and falls off, and Carter's face lights up as he laughs. It's obviously all in good fun, but the fact that he's having any fun at all irks the shit out of me—though there isn't much about him that doesn't irritate me.
Carter Trayland is the bane of my existence. He's nothing but an arrogant prick who thinks having an American Express black card is the equivalent to having the key to the universe. And if that isn't bad enough, he looks like he just walked straight out of a Calvin Klein billboard. Anyone with eyes can see that he's hot as hell, and he fucking knows it. Even now, there are at least a handful of girls lusting after him from a distance. It's rage inducing.
Realizing how long I've been standing here, just watching him, I go to dip away and blend into the crowd, but it's too late. The brunette standing next to Jace has already pointed me out and now he's looking my way.
