1 : JOSIE
Alder Cove is absolutely incredible.
Even if someone had told me I’d spend my entire first week here hungover and exhausted, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
I’ve never felt freer.
In this tiny coastal town, I finally get to do something I've been promising myself for years:
Be selfish.
Not that I actually approve of selfish people. Honestly, there are few things less attractive than self-absorbed egomaniacs.
But just a little?
Just enough to become someone else.
A blank page. Hell yeah.
Jojo Miller becomes Josie.
Older. More independent.
And just a little less responsible.
"Go, Josie! Go, go, go!"
The drunken cheers of a dozen ridiculously attractive student athletes blend into the bass thumping from a battered Bluetooth speaker.
Laughing, I tip my head back, pull the hair tie off my wrist and twist my hair into a messy bun.
Waggling my eyebrows dramatically, I wipe imaginary sweat from my forehead, earning a chorus of snorts and laughter.
I don't even know if I'm ready for round two.
My head started pounding against my skull like a galloping horse halfway through the first keg stand, and the room hasn't exactly stopped spinning since.
This would be the perfect moment to quit.
That dangerously sweet little buzz right before everything turns into a blackout.
But if there's one thing Past-Jojo and Present-Josie have in common, it's our complete inability to recognize our limits.
In more ways than one.
Thoughtfully, I chew on my bottom lip.
Maybe I should sit this one out.
The nonstop partying over the last few days has definitely left its mark.
Ever since I got here four days ago, I've felt like I've been running on a permanent alcohol level.
As fun as it is...
It's also exhausting.
"Come on, Freshie!" someone yells from somewhere behind the crowd. "Make the rest of the freshmen proud!"
Damn it.
Why has nobody ever told me how incredibly motivating it is to be cheered on by a bunch of ridiculously hot, ridiculously muscular college guys who all seem to have a personal grudge against wearing shirts?
For about half a second, I actually consider giving this whole sports thing a chance..
Yeah, no.
Absolutely not.
Thinking about how obsessed my brother Jace already was back in high school—and how unbelievably annoying his teammates used to be—kills that idea instantly.
The best part about being here is that I can avoid all of that whenever I want.
Psychology and sports medicine probably won't cross paths all that often.
Smirking, I tilt my head and look at the guy cheering the loudest.
After four straight days of partying, I should definitely know his name by now.
Unfortunately, names and I have never been friends.
His toothpaste-commercial smile and absurdly sculpted chest aren't helping either.
Apparently, having breakfast with him and Mina every morning while planning that night's chaos still isn't enough.
I have absolutely no idea who he is.
I think his name starts with a B.
Brad?
Brian?
Something with a B.
Yeah...
I'm... reasonably confident.
"Okay, okay," I laugh, raising my hands in surrender while trying to convince myself just as much as him.
A few more sips of beer aren't going to kill me.
Even if it's starting to taste flat.
Which isn't exactly surprising, considering it's been sitting here since this morning and has already been knocked over more than once, rolling across the laminate floor like an overfed caterpillar.
Thank God I don't live here.
I'll do my best to help Mina clean up later, but I'm pretty sure she'll still be finding evidence of this party weeks from now.
A random pair of panties.
An empty protein bar wrapper.
Something equally horrifying.
I mentally establish one very important rule:
No house parties in my apartment. Ever.
I'll live my college life by one simple motto:
Guest at every party. Host at none.
Wait...
Where is Mina, anyway?
At some point during the night she'd appointed herself my personal cheerleader, complete with homemade pom-poms she'd crafted by cutting up two paper cups.
I decide I'll go look for my temporary roommate right after one more demonstration of my extraordinary talents...
When Jace told me his best friend would be keeping an eye on me, I pictured every worst-case scenario imaginable.
Every single one more boring than the last.
Because whenever Jace appoints someone as my self-proclaimed bodyguard, the outcome is usually a disaster.
Thankfully...
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Because Mina?
Mina is absolutely incredible.
She looks like the girl next door.
Long, dark brown hair cascading past her chest, soft curtain bangs framing the bluest eyes I've ever seen, and a smile so warm it could probably fix seasonal depression.
But...
Looks can be seriously deceiving.
Mina is adventurous, hilarious, and about a thousand times less uptight than I'd expected.
I wasn't prepared for the endless party marathon she'd drag me into.
Or for how much laughing comes with living with her.
And honestly?
I love every second of it.
Taking one last deep breath, I clap my hands together and get into position.
Then...
I do a handstand.
On top of a sixty-liter keg.
The room erupts into cheers.
Someone shoves the tap between my lips before I can even process what's happening, and suddenly I'm drinking.
Fifteen uninterrupted seconds.
Turns out all those breath-holding competitions with Jace finally paid off.
The crowd's applause sends a rush of endorphins straight through my body.
God, I love it here.
College parties are filthy.
Loud.
Completely unhinged.
And somehow the most fun I've ever had.
Mr. B flicks my hair with a laugh, opening his mouth to say something—
- when a deep voice cuts clean through the music.
Even over the pounding bass, I catch every word.
"Seriously, Mina? 'Keep her away from the idiots.' This is your idea of doing that?"
Someone snorts.
Then Mina's unmistakably drunk sing-song voice echoes across the room.
"Have a drink, Hayes. Fucking Merrick. Merrick fucking Hayes."
More laughter follows.
Along with a long, exhausted sigh coming from much closer than before.
I squint, trying to focus through the alcohol, and peer between my upside-down arms at the guy who's just stopped in front of me.
My position doesn't exactly give me the best view.
The first thing I notice is the stuffed duffel bag he'd casually dropped onto the floor.
Before I can figure out what's happening, icy hands wrap around my waist.
My entire body jerks.
With surprising ease, he pulls me upright.
The cold of his hands against my skin makes me squeak.
And the second I realize who's standing in front of me...
I'm dangerously close to doing it again.
My knees wobble.
My arms ache.
Somehow I manage to stay on my feet instead of swaying around like a drunk ballerina.
He studies me for a second before the corner of his mouth twitches.
"Well, if it isn't Miller's little sister."
A beat.
"Hey, Sissy."
