"See you in a few," Ashton yells to Lance as he veers right toward the guys' dorm and we continue left.
I can smell the roses before I see them.
My phone beeps.
"Shit," I mutter.
"They're checking in?"
"Yes."
"Faster."
We race through the doors and take the stairs two at a time. Ashton could easily take three if she wanted, but my legs are struggling to reach two. My thighs are on fire, and my lungs are gasping for each breath.
My phone beeps again.
"How many more beeps before I'm screwed?"
"One." We reach the fifth floor. "Come to my room after."
I'm hurling my body toward my room. My hand is shaking as I hold it under my door monitor. I lift it to my face to accept the video call as I'm walking across my threshold.
A man appears on the other side. His head looks like it was haphazardly chiseled from rocks. Undeniably ex-military. He doesn't look happy. Or maybe he always looks like this. "That was too close. I wouldn't advise doing it again." Then he hangs up.
I collapse on my back onto the bed with my arms splayed. Holy shit. My heart is pounding, and I'm actually sweating. Just so I wouldn't be caught out of my room after curfew. This is so stupid.
At this moment, I realize, I'm still in my bathing suit. I can't even imagine that video feed if they had surveillance.
I change into a pair of fitted sweatpants and a cropped hoodie before leaving my phone on the desk to go to Ashton's. I stick a flip-flop in the door, so I don't lock myself out and walk down the hall. Except, I don't know which room is hers.
Then again, it's not too hard to figure out. All I have to do is follow the music. I stop in front of room twenty and knock just as the door opens. Ashton jumps back in surprise, looking like she was about to leave.
"You found me!" She opens the door wider for me to enter. "I'm going downstairs to drag Sophia up here. I'll be right back."
Before I can react, she slips past me and is gone. I turn to find Lance and Brendan lounging on a light grey couch that's pushed against the wall under a loft that holds up Ashton's bed. Her room is so ... Ashton. She is scattered all over, from the framed abstract and cityscape photographs on the wall to the plush furniture that looks like you could sink in and get lost. Not to mention the graffiti mural taking up the entire wall behind the bed and couch. It's sexy but has an attitude at the same time, like a supermodel flipping off a camera.
I remove a lacy bra from a chair and flop down, still feeling the ache in my body from the sprint to the room.
"Want some?" Lance holds up a bottle of champagne.
"Sure," I sigh, willing to give it another try. Not that I can be picky.
"Here, top it with this," Brendan offers, reading my less than enthusiastic response and reaching into Ashton's fridge to pull out a bottle of fresh squeezed lemonade. He pours some in the champagne flute and hands it to me. I tentatively take a sip and nod in appreciation.
"Thanks." I look to Lance who's sipping his champagne. Everything about him screams "guy." The slouchy khakis, the half tucked t-shirt and the disheveled mop of hair on his head that flips out around his ears and nearly covers his eyes. But he's so at ease tipping the elegant glass to his lips, holding it by its stem. The contradiction is sending me on another trip to Wonderland.
"You're the fifth student?"
"Until tomorrow."
"Where have you been?"
"Spent last night at the lake house."
"What year are you?"
"Sophomore? You?"