Everything About You

Hell no.

In some chick’s lap.

Mmm. Hot yeasty beer and spicy beef tacos.

With a grimace, I slapped a hand over my nose and elbowed my way through the wall of bodies in an attempt to find some fresh air before the saliva flooding my mouth turned into something more.

I really didn’t want to experience tonight’s dinner from the cafeteria again. It wasn’t great the first time around, it would be even worse the second.

As I made my way through the frat house, I couldn’t imagine it smelled much better even when there wasn’t a party. Put a shitload of college guys without their mommies in one house and yikes… Especially if they played sports.

Sweaty jockstraps, damp socks and crusty, stinky cleats and sneakers.

It was fetish for some, but not for me.

As I made my way through the crowd, looking for the nearest exit to take a non-toxic breath, I half expected the cops to show up at any moment to break up the party and arrest some of my fellow undergrads for underage drinking and drug usage.

Not to mention, indecent exposure.

However, that last one, I was kind of enjoying. A vast array of bitable juicy peaches wandered through the packed frat house. Most a bit pale and some with fuzz, but still edible.

Though, I really doubted any of the owners of those delectable behinds would appreciate me sinking my teeth into a firm cheek. Or two.

With a grin, I took another sip of my now flat, warm beer. I’d been nursing it for the last hour in a red Solo cup that cost Tate twenty bucks.

Twenty fucking bucks.

It was highway robbery since I doubted I would drink twenty dollars’ worth of beer. And the atmosphere certainly didn’t make up for the difference.

Even though he said he didn’t want to be paid back, I planned on doing so, anyway. No matter how long it took me. If I was brave and had my tetanus shot, I’d dig in the frat’s couches and probably find enough change to make up that twenty. Only, I was afraid of what else I’d find. I didn’t even want to sit on one of those couches, forget digging under or in between the cushions.

I should get his money’s worth by getting a fresh refill—

My plastic cup was yanked from my fingers when an arm snaked out from between two people, causing me to spill the warm beer over my hand. “Hey!”

After I shook it off, Tate emerged attached to that arm. “Hey.”

“Sorry, I thought you were some asshole.”

“I am some asshole,” he said with a lopsided grin and a noticeable slur. Somebody must have already drank his money’s worth. And maybe mine, too. “You having fun?”

“Loads,” I answered, plastering on a smile of my own. I came to the party to spend time with Tate, not to be hung upside down by my ankles while I shot-gunned carbonated yeast and hops.

He peered into my cup and wrinkled his nose. “You need a fresh beer.”

“I need fresh air.”

“I’ll get you another beer and if you head to the backyard,” he tipped his head toward the rear of the frat house, “I’ll bring you your beer.”

Well, how about that? The man of my dreams was going to serve me.

We separated and I somehow managed to worm my way through the sea of students and out the propped-open back door to the just as crowded backyard.

Was the whole damn student body for both Pitt and Duquesne here tonight? It had to be.

I found a tiny bit of real estate to stand on and wait for Tate. In the meantime, I surveyed the scene and saw the same as what I did inside.

At least it didn’t smell as bad.

The music changed to OMG by Usher and suddenly the whole backyard began to surge up and down in waves, reminding me of a mosh pit. A smile crossed my face and I began to move a bit with the music.

Finally something decent.

Since I got caught up in the song and people watching, I jumped when a red Solo cup appeared in front of my face. I grabbed it and turned to see Tate behind me. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone.

I tightened my fingers around the cup just in time to keep from dropping the beer.

She was beautiful. If you were into that type. That type being female.

I was not.

But I could appreciate her beauty anyway. Just like I could appreciate straight guys.

I looky, I just don’t touchy.

I had hoped Tate wasn’t straight. Even though I knew that was a stretch, the slightest hope I had clung to was now dashed.

Damn.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, then gulped down almost half of it in an attempt to wash away my disappointment.

It didn’t work.

“Hey, I want you to meet Dahlia, my girlfriend.”

Dahlia leaned into Tate with her breasts pressed into his arm and her arms looped around his neck as she stared up at him with adoration. And what looked like possessiveness.