"It's time to go, Warren," Easton says, resting his hand on my shoulder.

I shrug him off. It's Friday night, and the club is packed with people that are drinking, dancing, and jumping along to the pounding beat of the music being blasted through the speakers. The flashing lights are an array of colours: blues, golds, hot pinks, and acid greens, all lighting up the hazy, stuffy air. Sweat, alcohol, and chemicals have all mixed together, giving the club a disgusting yet surprisingly pleasant smell. It's one I've become accustomed to after the endless number of weekends I've spent here with my buddies. Outside of the dorm room, this place has basically become a second home to me.

For the past hour, I've been working on my third glass of whisky. I look down and eye the amber liquid and colourful glow of the glass-like cubes in it. I swirl the drink around, enjoying the sound of them clinking against the frosted glass in my hand. I watch them closely, entranced, as they bounce back up to the surface like partially submerged icebergs.

Bringing the glass to my lips, I take a sip, enjoying the burn on my tongue and in my throat. It's a mellowing burn. One that's putting me a step closer to forgetting all the stupid shit I've done in my life. Considering the fact that it's my third glass, it's also given me a buzz that I can feel vibrating around the edges of my mind. It's enough of a buzz that I'm incapable of focusing on anything but the girl that's leaning over the bar.

She definitely meets my standards. Her brown hair is cascading over one shoulder of her short, sequined dress that glimmers under the strobe lights and finely displays her breasts.

"Seriously, Warren," Easton says, giving my shoulder a rough shake. "You're already in hot water as it is. Coach is gonna kill you if he learns you're violating your probation terms. Come on."

"Knock it off, East!" I snap, shoving him away.

"What the hell is wrong with you, man?" he shouts over the loud music, giving me a slap on the side of my head. His steel-grey eyes glitter in the flashing lights. "We need you in the playoffs next month. You're risking your scholarship being out here."

I shrug and take another sip of my drink, my eyes reverting back to the girl. Saying that I'm bored with locking myself up in my dorm room every night, and either studying or doing homework seems pathetic. I've been on probation for about two months now, after a small mishap between me and a stranger, and I've been yearning to get out and party with my buddies. Switch things up a bit and find another girl to hook up with.

Alas, I have been bored. And I'm craving nothing more than a whole lot of alcohol and a good one-night stand with a pretty girl.

I chug the remainder of my drink, barely cringing at the sharp burn it creates. Slamming my empty glass down on the wooden top of the bar, I turn to face East. "If you had to do the same shit every day, you'd get bored, too," I reply. "Give me five more minutes and we can leave."

Just to make sure he understands what I'm hinting at, I nod in the direction of the brown-haired girl. She's staring at us, a wicked smile on her lips as she sips her fruity drink. Her body is positioned in a way that shows off her perfect hourglass shape and how her tight dress vaguely resembles a second skin. The low dip of the collar shows off a decent sized rack, which is another bonus for me. And her legs? Damn – they look a mile long combined with those high heels.

East looks in the direction I've nodded. He raises his eyebrows and lets out a low-pitched whistle. "Damn," he marvels. He claps me hard on the back and takes one more sip of the beer he's been nursing all night. "Five minutes it is, man. Good luck."

I grin. Leave it to a sexy female stranger to make East change his mind.

Sven barks out a laugh. His long white-blond hair, that's been tied up into a hipster man-bun, falls in his face as he shakes his head in disbelief. "Dude, do you know who you're talking to?" he asks. "Warren Ashford doesn't need good luck reeling in the ladies. He's got every damn girl in this damn club wrapped around his finger. All he has to do is look at them and they come running."

I shrug. What can I say? It's not my fault I'm so good-looking. My dark brown hair and side part style, dark blue eyes, and all-natural sexy smoulder are only part of the problem. It's my athletic build after years of both training for and playing volleyball that really pay off in the end. I'm a chick-magnet – no doubt about that one.

Speaking of chicks...

The brown-haired girl is now smiling at me. And it's not just any kind of smile. It's the kind that says something along the lines of, Get over here and tell me your name, handsome. I wink at her, and her smile broadens. She leans forward, allowing her hair to fall around her face like a curtain, and the collar of her dress to dip lower. She's basically spilling out of it, which is exactly how I like it.

Sven snorts at our distant flirting and then looks at the empty bottle of beer in his hand. He mutters something about needing another drink and turns to signal one of the bartenders down.

We come here often, the three of us. So often, in fact, that we're on a first name basis with most of the bartenders. They love us. But that's probably mainly because of the amount of money we spend here. It's something that should raise an alarm, but we don't let it get to us – it's better to think that we're all friends than a group of boys that drinks, parties, and hooks up with any willing girl way too often.

East shakes his head at our friend. "He is going to feel like absolute shit tomorrow morning." He looks back at me and sighs. "Hurry up and reel in your Friday night hookup so we can leave."

"Always the responsible one, hey?" I laugh.

"Screw you," he mutters, turning back to his drink. "I'm getting sick and tired of this boring flirting and meaningless sex, but more importantly, I'm getting sick and tired of always having to save your ass from trouble. This isn't happening again until the winter semester is complete and your probation is over, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, buddy," I reply, punching him jokingly in the bicep.

"Go get her," he sighs.

I smile. I've known Easton since I was seventeen-years-old. My family and I moved to Halifax for my three years of high school. By the time senior year came around, I had created a well-deserved reputation for myself. I was the best volleyball player on campus and the most popular student. People didn't dare to pit themselves against me. That is, until Easton Larken showed up on the first day of tryouts for the senior boys' volleyball team. When I first set my eyes upon him, I felt this instant territorial instinct. I'd heard many things about him being a great volleyball player and I wasn't about to let my reputation fall to the new student. And, not surprisingly, he felt the same way about me. We hated each other and, when we both made the team, the fight for star player was on after that.

As the season went on, the hatred toward each other rose. Every point that was scored, every player of the game award that was received, every girl that swooned over us was considered a jab. Until one day during practice, we lost it on each other. Fists flew, words were thrown around, and we were benched for two weeks so we could work on our companionship.

And it worked. We became fast friends when we both decided to skip detention and visit the mall. We spent the day flirting with older girls, eating food, and bonding.

Now here we are, five years later and attending university in Vancouver, our buddy-bond stronger than ever.

I wind through the crowded area, my polished shoes gleaming in comparison to the scuffed floor, and find my place beside the girl. She reeks of some sickeningly sweet perfume, and the strong scent of alcohol fills my nose as she leans close to me. Her eye makeup has been applied too heavily, but she's still smoking hot. So hot that I almost have the urge to wipe my mouth to make sure I'm not drooling. She has to be the hottest girl I've ever seen in this club.

"Hey, handsome," she smiles, reaching out to tug at my jacket.

"Hey yourself," I reply, making my voice a notch lower. "What are you drinking?"

"Whatever you're buying me."

Grinning, I signal the bartender and ask for two more glasses of whisky. Handing the glass to the girl, I ask her what her name is.

"Adrena," she says, leaning closer. The spaghetti strap of her dress falls from her shoulder as she looks up at me through her heavily coated lashes. Part of me questions if that was on purpose or not, but either way, it's sexier than hell. "Yours?"

"Warren," I reply, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She giggles and presses her breasts against my body. I love it. I glance down at her cleavage. Ah, I can't wait until we're back in my dorm room and alone together.

"Your voice is so deep," she says. "It reminds me of smoky summer nights in the middle of the prairies."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say as I look at her face, taking in the details I'm not going to remember after tomorrow. She has a rounded face and big blue eyes, but it's her full, cherry-red lips that catch my attention. They're tempting – so damn tempting.

"So what's a boy like you doing here?" she asks, trailing her fingernail along the stubble of my jawbone.

Leaning closer to her, I brush my lips against her earlobe and whisper, "Just looking for a good night."

I guide my mouth from her earlobe down to the hollow of her throat. God, her skin is soft. I could go without the sweet perfume, but she's too good-looking to give up. I kiss the hollow of her throat again and she shivers, her body tensing against mine. A smug smile spreads over my lips.

Before I can do anything more, she steps away and brings her pointer finger to her mouth. She casts me a wicked grin and raises her eyebrows. "Why are we still here, then?" Her voice sounds as sickeningly sweet as her perfume smells, but that doesn't faze me.

Got her.

Taking that as my cue, I search the crowd for East. When I lay my eyes on him, he and Sven are still leaning up against the bar. East is looking directly at me and he raises his eyebrows as if to ask, Are you ready to go?

Soberly, I nod my head.

Easton rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from the back pocket of his pants. I'm rendered motionless and speechless as I think about his comment from earlier. The notion of getting drunk and bringing a girl home to sleep with her is beginning to feel more like a routine rather than a way to pass the time. Just once, I would like to stop feeling restless and have a challenge. I'll admit, the sex is godly, but the girls are just too easy to come across. I miss having to impress a girl; I miss the thrill of the chase.

Tonight, however, I'm doing what's best for me. Which is enjoying the buzz, stripping this girl down, and waking up with a killer hangover tomorrow.

The nippy January air is damp and cold, so it chills me to the bone when we step outside. Fog is looming around the tall, lit-up buildings and there's a faint dusting of fresh snow on the pavement as we head to East's car. All of us pile in when we get to it – me and the girl taking the two backseats, and Sven and East taking the front seats.

The drive back to campus takes twenty minutes. During the drive, she's all over me. She acts clingy and tries to slip her hand beneath the waist of my pants. It actually starts to piss me off a little, and with Easton's words still poking around in my dulled-out brain, I contemplate whether or not I should call the whole thing off. Sure, the sex is great, but even my ego has its limits.

But I need the release I've been craving. This stupid probation shit has been getting in the way of my university lifestyle and it's time to remember what it's like.

Easton drops us off in front of my building, not failing to remind me that we have practice on Monday, and then speeds off to the building he and Sven share.

"So," the girl says as I guide her to my dorm room. She reaches up and runs her hand through my hair. "What exactly did you have in mind for tonight?"

I lean down so my breath is hot on her ear as I speak. "You know, wearing a dress like that ain't real smart."

She shivers, and I take absolute pride in the fact that my voice has manipulative power over women. "W-why is that?" she stutters.

"Because," I whisper, pressing a kiss to her neck, "it makes me think it would look much nicer on my bedroom floor."

She shivers again and presses her body against mine.

Taking that as permission, I slide both my hands up the fabric of her dress and cover her breasts, giving them a tight squeeze. Her body instantly reacts and I drop my hands, leaving her whimpering for more. I throw a cocky smirk over my shoulder as I unlock the door and step inside. Without flicking the light on, I gesture for her to step inside. She does, closing the door behind her.

"Welcome to the pad, baby," I grin.

That wicked smile finds its way back onto her candy-coloured lips, and she steps forward, her hands eagerly reaching for my belt.