we kissed. Sparks were for people who had inklings of chemistry. A fizzle, right?

Collins and I did not have an inkling of chemistry. We had PhDs in that shit. Toss me a white coat and call me a scientist because suddenly I felt like an unstoppable expert. In chemistry. And kissing Collins Bryant.

She kissed me slowly this time. Torturously slow. My mouth roved over hers in a bold exploration that I knew would get me into trouble.

And quickly.

Yep, I was massively turned on. Heat blazed up and down my spine. Collins' tongue flicked against mine, doing its own little dance that was making it really hard for me to control myself. When I grabbed the back of her head to keep her mouth attached to mine, deepening the kiss, she moaned. It echoed inside me as she tugged at my tie, anchoring us together.

I had no idea how to stop. Absolutely no idea how to slow this down.

"Collins," I groaned, a warning of sorts. For both of us to get our shit together.

But instead of releasing my tie and stepping away like I was half-hoping she'd have the ability to do—since I didn't—Collins used her hold on me to start marching us toward the door.

"A room," she said, looking back over her shoulder at me, eyes bright. "I have a room."

"You have a room?"

"Upstairs."

Yeah, I was definitely going to give Bren my Range Rover.

__

"Oh, thank god you're here."

Nessa was quick to rush over to me when I walked through the doors at Grayson's house. He lived in a big two-story dubbed the football house on campus. The parties were always long, and the music was always loud. Tonight there was too much bass, and it made my heart rattle into my throat.

Grayson, towering tall over most of the partiers, strode up behind Nessa, wrapping a protective arm around her waist to steady her in the crush of people. He looked tired and sober. Probably the only sober person in this place. I wondered if that ever got old for him, having to be the one that watched the night drag on through a different lens than everyone else.

He never complained, though. Never talked about his health problems at all unless someone else brought it up.

I clapped him on the back, and he nodded at me in greeting.

"I don't even know why I'm here, Ness. This guy's strong." I cocked my head toward her boyfriend, looking up at him. "Grayson, you shoulda just thrown Collins over your shoulder and plopped her into the back of your little... what's that you drive? A Jetta?"

"Don't come at my car, Beau." His smiling eyes told me he didn't actually care, though. Throwing his hands up in a defensive motion, he added, "Look, I tried to get her to leave. But she looked about ready to throw a fit, and I need her not to hate me in the morning because I still want to be allowed over at your house." He gave me a pointed look. "You signed a lease. She's stuck with you no matter what."

As much as his rationale annoyed me, I got it.

I glanced over his shoulder, searching for Collins. But a different girl caught my eye. A strawberry-blonde girl. A strawberry-blonde girl sucking face with a dark-haired emo boy. Oh, for the love of God—

Whipping my attention back to Nessa, I glared at her. "I thought you said Bren left."

"Okay, maybe Bren didn't leave." Nessa's devious side was peeking out, and I wanted to smack it back into its cave where it belonged. "But he's definitely a little busy."

Grayson chuckled. "I'm about to tell them to go up to my room before they give us all a show."

Sneaking another peek at Bren and Madie, I couldn't help but laugh.

"Brennie boy!"

Wrenching his lips off of Madie's, Bren twirled around, a satisfied grin on his face as he kept one of his hands wrapped around the nape of his girlfriend's neck.

"Time to go home or get a room, bro," I laughed.

Ignoring me, Bren grabbed Madie's hand instead, tugging her toward us.

"We couldn't leave before you showed up and saved the day, could we?"

I scowled at him.

"Y'all are childish motherfuckers, you know that?" I muttered, only to be greeted with a couple of chuckles. Madie smiled sheepishly at me as if to say that she didn't have anything to do with it. Which I believed. Because Madie was a pure little thing.

Unless she was looking at Bren.

But I tried not to think about that.

"Come on now," Bren said beneath his breath after checking over his shoulder briefly. "You know I wouldn't have let anything happen. You think I'd let her leave with some random guy when she's that drunk? Hell, no. But Collins isn't drinking her ass off because of me. I'm not the one who's gonna get her home."

"And you think it's because of me?"

"She spent all morning in your room and then the afternoon crying, Beau," Nessa pointed out, keeping her voice low. "When I told you to stop acting all moody and cold toward her, this whole situation is not what I meant. I don't even want to know what you did to cause this. Just fix it." She paused, cocking her head to the side. "Okay, I kinda want to know what you did—"

Grayson cut her off with an elbow to the side. When she looked up at him, he smiled and shook his head. And then he pressed a kiss to her hair.

All sorts of shit clenched in my stomach.

Leaning back against the wall, I looked in the direction that Bren had glanced before. Sure enough, Collins was in the middle of the living room, between the old couches and oversized speakers, dancing with some blonde guy who I could only assume was Steve.

His arms were around her from behind as she swung those hips like the weapon they were. And just when I thought my teeth might crack from clenching them so hard, she glanced up. Saw me. Smiled. Waved. Called my name. And then went back to dancing without a second thought.

I turned stiffly back to Nessa. "I thought you said she was leaving."

"I guess she didn't have enough dancing." A shrug. "Or maybe she was waiting for someone else to show up."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Bren's lips curve at Nessa's words, and I had the urge to flick both of them in the nose.

"I can guarantee that she wasn't waiting for anyone," I said flatly.

"You sure about that?" Bren asked.

"Positive."

I needed everyone to get it through their thick skulls that Collins and I weren't a thing, and we weren't going to be a thing. Did I like her? Of course I did. And I knew my friends probably realized that. Even though they spent a lot of time focused on the person they were looking forward to fucking later that night, they weren't totally oblivious to their surroundings.

But I had every intention of getting over my attraction to Collins and moving on. Just like she had.

She wasn't waiting for me.

But for some annoying reason, Nessa, Madie, Bren, and Grayson kept looking at me like they didn't believe it.

I sighed. "I need a drink."

Grayson grimaced. "I know you're not going to like any of the options that Julian bought."

Julian was the captain of the OSU football team and Grayson's roommate. He also had terrible taste in beer.

"I told him I would buy the booze for his next party if he let me get something other than piss water."

"I guess he likes his piss water," Grayson said, shrugging.

"What's that about my piss water?"

Julian Briggs took that moment to swing into the conversation, tossing his arm around my shoulder with a larger-than-life smile and the wafting smell of liquor. Piss water, to be precise. He ran his free hand through ginger locks that matched the light freckles on his face, looking over at me.

A smile threatened to make an appearance on my face. Julian was good shit.

"The one time I didn't bring my own booze, and all you have in stock is crappy beer, Briggs?"

Julian laughed, unphased. "Damn straight."

"We need you sober right now anyway, Beau," Nessa cut in, the voice of reason even though I could see from her bright eyes that she was at least two glasses of whiskey in herself.

"One drink isn't gonna do a thing," I protested. "What's in your cup?"

"Jameson Coke."

I didn't usually prefer Irish whiskey to other kinds. It was smooth and even a little bit sweet, but I liked the spicier, rougher taste of rye if I had to choose. Which I spent a decent amount of time doing—picking what beverage I wanted to bring out the palate of life for a night.

But Jameson was better than nothing. Even if she mixed it with something. Taking the drink out of Nessa's hand, I tossed it back.

"Hey!"

"You dragged me here. You give me liquor to suffer through it."

"Dude has a point." Julian tipped his head in my favor before taking a step back toward the crowd. "But I'm glad you came, Beau!" His eyes flicked knowingly from me to Collins before raising his beer and winking over it while he took a sip.

Goddamnit. Not him, too.

Meanwhile, Nessa was still huffing about her drink. Or lack of one. "Fine. I'll go get more."

Turning on her heel, Nessa parted the crowds as she meandered her way to the back of the house where I knew the kitchen was. Grayson, attached to her hip, followed, leaving me alone with Madie and Bren, who were basically centimeters away from kissing again.

Rolling my eyes, I turned the other way. But that only forced me to look at Collins, who was still dancing with Steve. Her arm trailed up her side seductively, one hand tangling in her hair as she pushed it out of her face. Her face was downcast, her eyes practically closed as she focused on dancing. And only dancing.

Yeah, she definitely hadn't been waiting for me.

I nearly fled after Nessa and Grayson, but then Collins looked up. This time when our eyes connected, it was different. Her eyelashes fluttered, lowering over me. And goddamn—she was doing that thing that drove me up the wall. When she bit her lip, I swore beneath my breath, grateful the room was so loud from the thumping party bass. That it soaked it all up.

Nessa returned with drinks right when Steve and Collins began walking toward us. She immediately tensed when she noticed, and I steeled myself for whatever was about to happen.

But when the pair of them were about three feet away from us, they split. Steve started walking toward the front door, and Collins stumbled straight into Nessa's arms, giving her a hug.

Okay, this was good.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow!"

Oh, it was a good-bye hug. Not good.

"Collins—"

"I don't think—"

Nessa and Bren both tried to intervene, but Collins was already hugging Grayson good-bye. Which said something in and of itself because Collins was not really a super affectionate person, at least not when sober, and Grayson looked surprised about the arms wrapped around his waist.

And then our little drunk girl was tripping over her feet and falling onto me. At least by that point, I was somewhat prepared. But no amount of foreshadowing could stop my body from tightening when that coconut scent invaded my senses and her arms wrapped around my neck. God, a hug. Why was I so messed up from just a hug?

"I thought maybe you'd come dance with me," she whispered in my ear.

Ah, shit. I swallowed, wishing I'd drank more. Or maybe nothing at all. It was hard to say what would be better at this very moment.

"You know I can't do that." My arm involuntarily tightened around her. "Last time we danced, we ended up with our clothes off and then didn't talk to each other for eight months."

When she tried to pull back, I didn't let her.

"You're drunk, sweetheart," I muttered.

"I'm tipsy," she protested, her voice all breathy and flitting across my skin. "There's a difference, remember?"

"There is a difference. But you're drunk. Nessa said you had a lot." I rubbed my hand down her back. "You're coming home with me."

Before I could get a reply from Collins, Blondie walked over with his coat and hers on his arm. I felt a little tug and realized he'd grabbed her hand.

"Ready to go, babe?"

The fuck she isn't, Steve.

Collins pulled away from me, just enough to spin around to face the guy in front of us. But I didn't drop my arm from its hold on her waist. She was anchored to my chest, which was how it would stay. After brushing some of her curls out of my face, I stared Blondie down from behind her.

His brows drew together as he looked from me to my unmoving arm to Collins.

"She needs to go home, man," I said.

He shrugged, uncaring. "I'll take care of her."

Collins' head lolled back against my shoulder for a second before she lifted it up again. "I can take care of myself."

Usually, baby girl, yes. You can. But right now, your feet are slipping on the tile beneath your feet, and you're only standing because I'm holding you up.

"Look, it's not happening, dude. She can't even stand straight."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not right here," Collins snapped.

"So, what?" Steve was getting an edge to his voice. Ignoring what Collins said, he looked straight past her to glare at me. "She's too drunk to go home with me but not too drunk to go home with you?"

I sighed, but before I could respond, Collins did for me.

"This is my roommate. His name is Beau, and he is very nice, okay?" She twisted in my arms, angling herself so she could press a hand to my chest, patting it like she was proud to show me off. I couldn't decide if I thought it was cute or annoying. "I think he might be mad at me, which is why he is making that face—" She scrunched her face up in a scowl, mimicking what I apparently looked like. "But he is very nice. I promise."

I heard a giggle and a low chuckle behind me and fought the urge to kick my leg back and hopefully hit Bren square in the balls.

"Okay, come on. Time to head home."

Leaving Steve behind, I half-carried, half-guided Collins toward the back door of the house, hoping it would be easier to avoid Blondie that way. Collins attempted to protest, but I was done. With this night, with everything. We were going home, and she was going to sober up. Because I didn't need things getting messier than they already were.

***

Collins was surprisingly quiet once I got her into my car. I mean, she was usually pretty quiet around me, but considering how quick-lipped she was back at Grayson's, it seemed like a one-eighty. No complaining, no nothing.

Peeking at her, I noticed that she'd shrunk into the passenger seat. Like she was trying to disappear. Her cheek was pressed to the window, her eyes looking anywhere but at me until she closed them. Squeezed them tightly shut.

I sighed.

"For the record, I'm not mad."

She jumped. Almost as though she'd forgotten I was even here. Her head swung around as she turned to face me again.

"For the record, I don't believe you. Also for the record, this isn't like me. Drinking this much. But I—"

She cut off, looking away. And I gritted my teeth. I wasn't mad, but I was going to become mad if she kept insisting that I was.

"You're allowed to go out and have a few too many drinks, Collins. We all have our nights, and this is what friends are for. I'm not mad."

"Is that what we are?" she asked softly. "Friends?"

"Yeah." My throat suddenly dried up like a fucking desert. "We're friends."

She nodded, and it seemed for a minute that that was going to be the end of our conversation. But then she pitched forward slightly, lifting a single finger into the air like she was about to declare an important scientific discovery.

And my hypothesis? Whatever she was going to spew would hurt. Somehow, someway, it was going to cause pain.

"It's just that earlier...."

Yeah, I didn't like where this was going. Eye-fucking wasn't something that friends did. I know, Collins. Believe me, I know.

"I feel like you're still mad at me about earlier. In your room," she said. And before I could reassure her again that I wasn't mad, she cut me off. "And I don't want you to be mad, Beau. I don't want you to hate me more."

A deep frown set in on my face. Luckily, we'd made it back to our duplex, and I pulled up to the curb without saying a word. Collins was still leaning forward, her eyes heavy on my face. After shifting my car into park, I turned to face her. And god, what I saw when I did.

There was sadness there that I never would have expected. And it gutted me to see what she'd been hiding. Did I do this? Did I cause her to feel this way?

Unconsciously, I leaned toward her.

"You think I hate you?"

She gave the tiniest of nods. "Well, you've been avoiding me. And I know why, Beau. I know why you avoid me. I know you're probably mad at me for leading you on that night and then walking away, not saying a single word to you until the day I just showed up to move in." Her brows drew together, her face pleading as words continued to pour out. "But I didn't want to walk away. I promise, I didn't. I just have this...this thing, and I try to stay away from other people because I don't want to drag anyone else down into it."

Okay, well we were definitely going to come back to whatever this thing was. But there was something that we needed to clear up first.

"Would you stop fucking saying that I'm mad at you?"

That seemed to get her attention. She sat up straight, blinking at me. And then Collins crumbled again.

"Okay, I'll stop." She covered her face in her hands for a moment before peeking back out at me. "I just—I just really don't want you to hate me."

Goddamn. My chest felt like it would cave from the amount of pressure building up on top of it. I needed to relieve some of it. And I needed to do it by touching her.

Reaching out, I knocked her hands aside so I could see that pretty face. And then I carefully cupped her cheek, rubbing my thumb across the corner of her mouth because I just couldn't resist.

"I'm really sorry about earlier. About how I reacted in my room. But please, Collins. I'm not mad, and I definitely don't hate you."

"You don't?"

The hopefulness in her drunk gaze was going to rip me apart.

I shook my head. "It would be a hell of a lot easier if I did, though."

I said the last words softly enough that I wasn't sure if she heard me, but that was okay. She didn't need to know that part. She just needed to know that I didn't hate her.

The rest of the night was a hot mess. Nausea hit Collins hard as soon as we made it into the apartment, and even though I forced her to hydrate, she still ended up with her head in the toilet within the hour.