The Mistake

I glance around the room again. My gaze lands in the corner, where two girls in jeans and bras are making out while one of the Omega Phi guys films the passionate display with his iPhone.

The sight makes me stifle a groan. Ten bucks says that video will wind up on one of those free porn sites. And the poor girls probably won’t find out about it until years from now, when one of them is about to marry a senator and the press digs up all her embarrassing dirt.

“I wouldn’t mind going now,” I admit.

“Yeah, I guess I’m cool with it too.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Since when are you cool with leaving a party before midnight?”

A frown puckers her lips. “Not much point in staying. Someone already beat me to him.”

I don’t bother asking who she’s talking about—it’s the same guy she’s been talking about since the first day of the semester.

Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis.

Ramona has been obsessed with the gorgeous junior ever since she bumped into him at one of the campus coffee houses. Like seriously obsessed. She’s dragged me to almost all the Briar home games just to watch Dean in action. I have to admit, the guy is hot. He’s also a major player, according to the gossip mill, but unfortunately for Ramona, Dean doesn’t date freshmen. Or sleep with them, which is all she really wants from him anyway. Ramona has never gone out with anybody for more than a week.

The only reason she even wanted to come to this party tonight was because she heard that Dean would be here. But clearly the guy isn’t fucking around with that no-freshmen rule. No matter how many times Ramona throws herself at him, he always leaves with somebody else.

“Let me just use the washroom first,” I tell her. “Meet you outside?”

“’Kay, but be quick. I told Jasper we’re leaving and he’s waiting in the car.”

She darts off toward the front door, leaving me with a prickle of resentment. Nice that she asked me if I wanted to leave when she’d already made the decision for us.

But I swallow the irritation, reminding myself that Ramona has always done that, and that it never bothered me in the past. Honestly, if it wasn’t for her making decisions and forcing me to step out of my comfort zone, I probably would’ve spent my entire high school career in the newspaper office, writing the advice column and offering life tips to students without having ever experienced life myself.

Still…sometimes I wish Ramona would at least ask me what I thought about something before deciding that we should do it.

The downstairs bathroom has a long line, so I weave through the crowd and head upstairs to where Matt and I had been talking before. I’m just approaching the bathroom when the door swings open and a pretty blonde saunters out.

She jerks when she spots me, then offers a smug little smile and adjusts the bottom of a dress that can only be described as indecent. I can actually see the crotch of her pink panties.

As my cheeks heat up, I avert my gaze in embarrassment, waiting until she’s at the stairs before I reach for the doorknob. I barely get my hand on it when the door opens again and someone else walks out.

My gaze collides with the most vivid blue eyes I have ever seen. It only takes a second for recognition to dawn on me, and when it does, my face burns hotter.

It’s John Logan.

Yep, John Logan. AKA the star defenseman of the hockey team. I know this not just because Ramona has been stalking his friend Dean for months, but because his sexy, chiseled face was on the cover of the school newspaper last week. Since the team’s championship win, the paper has run feature interviews with all the players, and I’m not going to lie—Logan’s interview was the only one I paid any attention to.

Because the guy is smoking hot.

Like the blonde, he looks startled to find me in the hallway, and like the blonde, he recovers quickly from his surprise and flashes me a grin.

Then he zips up his pants.

Oh my God.

I cannot believe he just did that. My gaze involuntarily drops to his groin, but he doesn’t seem bothered by that either. He cocks a brow, shrugs, and then walks away.

Wow. Okay.

That should have icked me out. Forget the very obvious bathroom hook-up. The zipper move alone should have placed him directly in douchebag territory.

Instead, knowing he’d just fooled around with that girl in the bathroom evokes a rush of jealousy I don’t expect.

I’m not saying I want to have a random hook-up in a bathroom, but—

Fine, I’m lying. I totally want that. At least with John Logan, I do. The thought of his hands and lips all over me unleashes a flurry of hot shivers that shimmy up my spine.