SNAPPED (The Slate Brothers 1)

“Wow, okay,” Sarah says, looking shocked. “Anyway— I got you in!”

“Huh?”

“To the football players’ after party. Remember, one of the cheerleaders lives on my floor? I talked to her— I didn’t tell her about the advocacy group or anything, I just said you were cool and then I offered to help her with some physics homework if she’d hook you up. She said she can get you into the party!”

My eyes widen. “Oh! Right. Yeah,” I say, trying to sound both eager and grateful. The truth is, I only vaguely remember Sarah mentioning the cheerleader on her floor, and I definitely didn’t expect her to tutor someone to get me into a party. But of course she would— we’re in the same advocacy group, after all, and we’re supposed to be working toward the same goals. Not, you know, imagining having sex with the enemy, like I am. I’m relieved that my roommates are too preoccupied deciding on which bars to hit up to hear any of this, since I suspect they’d accidentally mention the jersey, or the fact that I spent the entire game staring at Sebastian.

“That’s awesome,” I say hurriedly. “What do I do? Where do I go?”

“They have a house over off Milledge— just go there and say you’re there with Juliet. Wear something super cute, she said. She’s nice, I promise, but she’s also really really extroverted,” Sarah says. If Sarah calls Juliet extroverted, she must practically be a one girl party planner. I nod appreciatively, and give Sarah a quick hug.

“Who was that?” Becca asks as we move along.

“A pre-law friend,” I say. “She invited me to a party this evening.” That isn’t entirely a lie…

“A pre-law party?” Maddy asks, looking unimpressed. “We were going to go to that nineties bar. I hear some of the players go there, mostly the freshmen. But hey, you never know— maybe Sebastian will be there,” she adds, elbowing me and winking.

I laugh, but beg off of the bar, hoping she doesn’t see the truth on my face: I’m going to see Sebastian tonight, but it’s not going to be at a bar. It’s going to be at the party. At his house. Where there’s plenty of room to be alone. Where, if history is any indicator, I’m going to be totally unable to resist him.

8

Unbelievably, I was less nervous walking to the same house in my Papa Pig’s gear than I am right now, wearing normal attire. When I was wearing that stupid pig nose, I had a single job, an easy mission to accomplish (or so I thought, anyway). Now, in a pair of Emily’s heels and my go-to/only little black dress, I’m something of a mess. Am I ready for Sebastian, if he does what he promised he would? What if he’s decided against me? What if he sees me naked, and changes his mind? I can’t figure out why, exactly, he’s been interested in me in the first place, and that confusion makes the whole situation feel very precarious, like it might all crumble away at any second.

Not to mention the guilt I feel about how wrong it is to even be thinking about Sebastian, let alone spending actual time in his presence as I’m hoping to do.

“Hi,” I say at the door in my smoothest voice. “I’m a friend of Juliet’s?” There’s a young guy at the door tonight— thank god it isn’t that Conor again. This other guy looks like he may be a freshman, which is to say, he looks like he’s been relegated to door duty rather than pleased about his job.

“Juliet?” he calls inside. “Is there a Juliet here? You have a friend at the door.” I look past him, into the house. It’s much the same as it was a few nights prior— full of people, but more beautiful than any other college student house on campus. I wonder if they have a housekeeper come in and clean. They must, right? My eyes scan the baseboards. Yeah, they have to— no college guy has ever wiped down a baseboard in his life—

“You must be Sarah’s friend,” a cheerful voice says. I look up at an absolutely stunning girl with highlighted hair and toothpaste commercial teeth. She smiles at me; the guy at the door steps aside and allows me in. “Ashlynn, right? She said she had a pre-law friend who would be way more excited to come here tonight than she was.”

“Oh, yeah. Super excited,” I say, trying to match her bright smile. I’m pretty sure I fail, but she moves along.

“You have to know someone for them to let you in the door, is all— they don’t want it full of football groupies or so packed the house gets trashed. They’re football players, but they’re all seniors. Drunken furniture smashing isn’t really their thing,” she says. “Anyway, I’m around if you need me, okay? But it’s usually pretty cool. Bar is that way.”