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“None taken.” She shrugs. “Valco would freak anyway. My brother says no hooking up if I’m drunk or high.”
“Good philosophy.”
Shiloh rolls his eyes and points his thumb at Vulture. “Fine. V can pick your dare, party pooper.”
He’s really going to think I’m a party pooper when I drag him out of here in a few minutes. Fun Shiloh is turning crabby, which leads to Sick Shiloh and Unconscious Shiloh.
I eye the bottle in my hand and hope that whatever she decides isn’t bad enough that I have to take a swig. I’ve got great tolerance, but this is definitely the kind of stuff that’ll go to my head quick.
“I dare you...” Vulture copies Shiloh’s cheeky pause and giggles. “I dare you to strip and make a run through the house in your underwear.”
That is nowhere near the craziest thing I’ve done for a dare, and is definitely better than what Shiloh would have put me through.
I have zero problems yanking my shirt off and kicking my jeans to the side, shoving my keys, wallet, and phone at Shiloh for safe keeping. Drunk hands are often grabby hands, whether that be sex or snatching. V takes the bottle, and I see the way Shiloh eyes it.
“Don’t drink each other under the table while I’m gone.”
None of the bodies in the hall pay me any mind, but once I hit the kitchen I start getting hoots and hollers. A couple slaps on the back, and one girl sitting on the counter tries to tug me aside, but I give her a wink and a salute before ducking away.
Unsurprisingly, I’m not the only one half naked in the throng of dancing and grinding bodies in the living room, but that doesn’t stop the multitude of hands that pass over me. I’m sure at least one person gropes my junk and another smacks my ass, but I still push through and weave around the crowd, nearly bowling over my RA when I break through.
“Woah. Corvin, hey.”
I’ve never seen him at a party before. Hell, I don’t think I’ve seen him out of his room, but I’m not his keeper, and I’ve only really known him since last year.
He says something, but it’s so soft spoken that I don’t hear it over the people and the music.
“Repeat that,” I say, a little louder than necessary to get the point across.
He frowns and crosses his arms, but clears his throat and speaks so I can hear him above the noise. “Shiloh. Is he with you?”
“He’s upstairs. Need him for something?”
“No, just keeping up with my charges.”
Corvin is a little shorter than me, but honestly most people are. I passed six feet a couple inches ago, and Corvin is only creeping up on it. So, I have to duck my head to speak without shouting.
“Okay, Mama Hen. I’m taking care of him, promise.”
He grimaces and leans back against the wall where he’s watching the party around us. “You know how people around here are, and you know how he gets when he’s drunk.”
It’s sobering to remember how Shiloh and I ended up in what’s known around campus as the LGBTQ Dorm, and how Corvin became our RA. Freshmen at the university all share one crappy, cramped dorm, and while we both dealt with our fair share of shit, Shiloh got the rawest end of the deal. That’s not my story to tell, and I wasn’t there for everything that went down, but Corvin was the one with him at the hospital when I got there, and he’s been a permanent fixture in our lives since.
“I’m taking him home once I wrap this dare up. Thanks for checkin’ in.”
He tips his head back and motions for me to get to it, so I make my way back to the stairs and take them two at a time, knowing the kind of chaos Shiloh can get up to within ten minutes and a room full of drunk, gullible college kids.
When I don’t immediately see him in the smoke-filled room, I don’t panic, but then I hear retching down the hall—and here’s the thing, when you’ve spent most of your life with someone, you learn the sound of their puking. Gross as hell, but it’s kind of like how a parent can tell their kid’s cry out of the dozen of other tantrum throwing toddlers in a room.
Light is spilling out of a room at the end of the hall, and I skid to a stop just as it opens a fraction more and Vulture sticks her head out. She bites down on her lip and gives me a weary look. I see why when I step inside and not only is Shiloh bent over the toilet spilling his guts, there’s also blood dripping down his face and the beginnings of a black eye forming.
“Shit. What the hell happened? I was gone for five minutes!”
I kick the door closed, glancing from Shiloh to Vulture when she flinches.
“Sorry. I’m not mad at either of you. What happened?”
Vulture wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside Shiloh, rubbing his back.
