We work our way inside and the heat slaps me in the face. Okay, so maybe losing the cardigan was a good idea, but walking around with my arms wrapped around my stomach isn’t exactly a great look either. My jeans are high waisted but I still have skin on show with the crop top, and my girls are on display to an almost obscene degree. I take a deep breath and lift my head. I can do this.
“Come on!” she shouts over the music, and I follow her to where a keg is lined up with a ton of liquor. She pours two shots of tequila and hands one to me. “What’s the worst that could happen? Loosen up, live a little! You’re starting a whole new life at Saints U, might as well send the old one out with a bang.”
She gives me her puppy dog eyes and I take the glass, throwing the fiery liquid down my throat. Fuck me, that burns.
I take the next one she hands me and do the same thing.
Maybe just a little buzz will make this night bearable. The last thing I want to do is leave her out here alone, where we don’t really know anyone.
“Let’s dance!” she squeals before slamming back another shot. Throwing her hands in the air, she lets out a scream as she heads toward the throng of people bumping and grinding in the middle of the room.
This is so not me.
But who said I have to be me tonight? Maybe one night of mindless fun is exactly what I need. I spent the entire summer being me, and that was about as much fun as holding hot coals.
So fuck it.
I throw my hands in the air and squeal right along with her, the shots giving me just enough courage to get on board and dance with her.
The music is absolute fire. There’s a live band and I lose myself in what they’re playing. Emerson feeds me shots like I need them to survive, but it keeps me dancing, and for the first time in a long time, I’m actually enjoying myself.
I don’t even notice when she basically abandons me to dance with some guy. Instead, I just keep dancing and enjoy the hell out of the guy who’s singing. It’s like he’s singing just for me as I watch him, almost hypnotized. His dark hair is messy, falling into his eyes as he croons into the microphone. He looks completely at ease up there as his steel blue eyes lock with mine, promising mischief. But there’s something about him that screams money.
Though considering where we are, I’m pretty sure that ninety percent of the people here scream money.
The band finish their song and put down their instruments, someone putting on the sound system to take over as the groans go up in the silence. I leave Emerson to it as she tries to touch the guy’s tonsils, and stumble back to where the alcohol is to pour myself another shot. Might not be the brightest idea, but also, I’m chasing this buzz because I’m having too much fun.
“I didn’t figure you for a tequila girl.” I turn around and lock eyes with the guy who was just singing as he grins down at me.
“Woah, you’re super tall.” I cover my mouth after the words spill from it and he laughs softly, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he does.
“I don’t think I’ve met you before,” he says, taking a sip from his red Solo cup.
“Unlikely that you have. I’m not usually in these parts.” I shrug before taking the shot I poured.
“Well, you and your friend seem to be having fun.” His scent wafts toward me and he even smells like heaven. Like wood and outdoors, but clean.
I lean back against the wall, becoming increasingly aware of the slight sway of the room. “I am. She’s usually the party girl, but tonight, I want to be a party girl too.”
His two friends join us, and holy fuck. I wasn’t paying all that much attention when they were playing, but shit. Just looking at them makes my brain go haywire.
“What’s your name?” the singer asks, watching me as one of his friends says something that I miss.
“Does it matter?” I ask with a shrug.
“I guess not. Want to come party with us?” I look between the three of them, wondering if this is possibly the stupidest idea I’ve ever had, but then glance behind them to see Emerson has disappeared.
“Sure, why not?” I mean, hanging out with three beautiful musicians is hardly a bad night, right? Might be stupid, but it’s not like I’m ever going to see them again.
“Cool,” the singer says, grabbing an unopened bottle of tequila and another of whiskey. “Let’s go downstairs.”
I nod and follow behind him, his friends behind me. When he opens a door on the opposite side of the room and descends the staircase, I question if I should do this but shake it off. Tonight, we’re not being bookish Briar. Tonight, we’re nameless party girl, and nameless party girl wouldn’t question hanging out with three hot-as-fuck guys.
I hear the turn of a lock and look back to see the blond one checking it’s engaged and he winks at me when he turns back.
Oh yeah, he’s going to be trouble. I can already tell.
I reach the bottom of the staircase and find it opens out into a smallish room with couches and a table in the middle. While the thump of the music reaches us down here, it’s significantly dulled, so the singer’s friend—the dark-haired one—heads to the phone dock in the corner of the room and a few seconds later, music starts playing.