Page 45 of Playing By The Rules

“Really?” Ace asks, at the same time that half of the females he’s with do as well.

Nodding, I send all of them an assessing look. I do not want any of these women near Cam tonight. They are all far too good looking and a lot of them are showing plenty of skin. More than I am, and I felt like I was really pushing the limits. “He should be here any minute.”

With that, I turn and leave them, heading deeper into the house, in search of the kitchen. I eventually find it, relieved to see that it’s not as crowded as the rest of the house and I can actually breathe in here.

There are giant steel buckets full of cans of beer on the floor, a row of bottles of hard liquor lining the counter, and I can see through the window that faces the backyard that there are a couple of kegs outside as well. Plenty of alcohol to get good and drunk tonight, which is rapidly becoming my plan.

I grab a red solo cup and a bottle of flavored vodka and pour myself a drink, taking a sip and grimacing the moment the overly sweet alcohol hits my tongue. Hissing through my gritted teeth, I take another drink, steeling myself, enjoying the sensation of the liquor burning a pleasant trail through my veins, settling into my stomach. Despite the bad taste, I can already feel it working its magic on me.

Magic I desperately need.

“Hey.”

I glance up to find a very attractive dark-haired guy approaching me with just the right amount of swagger that makes him seem confident without being too cocky. I glance around quickly to make sure he’s actually talking to me before I say, “Hi.”

He comes to a stop directly in front of me, standing on the other side of the counter. “I don’t think I’ve seen you on campus.”

“I just started here this fall,” I offer.

“Ah, that makes sense. I know I’d remember if I saw someone as beautiful as you around here before.” He smiles, and it’s a nice one, but it can’t make up for the cheesy line he just fed me.

I smile in return before I take another sip of the terrible vodka, needing it to carry me through this conversation.

“I’m Cohen.” He thrusts his hand out toward me.

“Blair.” I shake his offered hand, not feeling a single thing when he touches me. Not a tingle, not a shiver. Nothing.

How unfortunate.

“Nice to meet you.” He smiles, reluctantly letting my hand go.

“Yeah. Same.” I glance around the room, wishing I would spot a familiar face.

“Are you from around here?”

I meet his gaze once more. “I grew up in Colorado, yeah.”

“I’m from California.”

“I have family in California,” I offer.

“Oh yeah? From what part?”

Shit. I don’t want to admit to this guy I’m related to Drew Callahan. That would be a mistake. “Somewhere in the mountains? I don’t remember exactly where.”

“We have a lot of mountains in California,” he says with a nod. “It’s beautiful there.”

“It is,” I agree.

“I miss it. But it’s beautiful here, too. The mountains, they’re incredible. Great for snowboarding. Do you snowboard?”

I shake my head. “I’ve done it, but I’m not very good at it.”

“Oh, maybe you just need more practice. I’m not a pro. Not even close, but I enjoy it.”

My problem is I don’t really enjoy it. I’m not very sporty. I’m like my mom in that sense. She loves watching sports—mostly football. She’ll support my dad and brother in every way possible. When I was younger, Ruby and I were both in dance, but I was kind of awkward while Ruby was great. She ended up on the hip hop competition dance team at our studio for a few years in her early teens, and she loved every minute of it.

“You’re living in the perfect state to snowboard,” I say, glancing into my cup. It’s empty and I really don’t want to refill it with that shitty tasting vodka.

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