Freshie

POV: SLOANE

“There’s my girl!”

Chase pulled Sloane into his arms, his familiar grin making her smile instantly.

“Hey, handsome.” She laughed as he kissed the side of her neck.

Six months later, Sloane would remember this night differently. She would remember the music, the pool, the taste of alcohol on Chase’s lips—and how completely unaware she’d been that her perfect little life was only minutes away from falling apart.

But right then?

She was seventeen, happy, a little drunk, and completely convinced nothing bad could touch her.

“Is this new?” Chase asked, glancing down at her green bikini.

“Maybe.” She gave him a mischievous smile.

He laughed before spinning her around in the water and pulling her back against him.

“This is a pool party, not an orgy!” Wren called from across the pool.

Sloane broke away from Chase long enough to laugh. “Ignore her.”

“I am.” Chase grinned before kissing her again.

The music blared from the speakers surrounding the pool as people shouted over one another and colored lights swept across the water. Sloane had already lost count of how many drinks she’d had, but she didn’t care. Tonight was about having fun, and she was very good at having fun.

She was good at most things, actually.

At least, that’s what everyone kept telling her.

She had the boyfriend every girl wanted, more friends than she could count, and enough trophies and crowns sitting in her bedroom to prove she’d mastered high school.

Her life was exactly how she’d planned it.

“Sloane?”

Her father’s voice somehow carried over the music.

She froze.

Slowly, Sloane turned toward the edge of the pool.

Sure enough, her father stood there.

For a second, she couldn’t understand why he was looking at her like that. She expected embarrassment. Maybe anger. Definitely a lecture after finding his seventeen-year-old daughter drunk in a pool with her boyfriend wrapped around her.

Instead, he looked devastated.

“Dad?”

Chase immediately stepped away from her, his face flushing with embarrassment.

“Sir, we were just—” Chase’s hands shot into the air like he had a gun pointed at him.

“Not now, Chase.”

Her father’s voice was calm.

Too calm.

Something about it made Sloane’s stomach twist.

His eyes never left her.

“Come with me, sweetheart.”

Sloane’s smile disappeared. “Why are you here?”

“I need you to get out of the pool.”

Her dad lived four hours away with his new wife and kids. He rarely came to visit her, and he certainly didn’t show up unannounced at parties.

There was something wrong.

She could feel it now.

Her father wasn’t angry about Chase. He wasn’t embarrassed about finding them together. He wasn’t even looking at Chase anymore.

He was looking at her like he was afraid of what he was about to tell her.

“Dad?” Sloane asked again, suddenly feeling cold despite the warmth of the summer night.

Her father’s eyes filled with tears.

Sloane stopped breathing.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her father cry.

Actually...

She wasn’t sure she ever had.

“I’ll be in the car,” he said quietly.

Then he turned and walked toward the road.

Sloane stared after him, completely frozen.

The party continued around her.

Music still blared.

Someone jumped into the pool behind her, sending water splashing across her back. People laughed. Wren shouted something from the other side of the pool.

But Sloane barely heard any of it.

All she could see were her father’s tears.

She didn’t remember climbing out of the pool. She barely remembered grabbing her bag from beside the lounge chair. All she knew was that something had happened, and whatever it was, her father hadn’t been able to tell her surrounded by everyone else.

“Sloane?” Chase called behind her.

She didn’t answer.

She raced after her father.

Six months ago, Sloane would have owned a room like this.

She’d been cheer captain, homecoming queen twice, prom queen, student body president, and a member of more clubs than she could remember. She’d dated Chase Guthry, captain of the football team, for three years. Parties hadn’t made her nervous. Crowds hadn’t made her want to run.

She’d loved being noticed.

Sometimes, she’d even demanded it.

Back then, her life had looked perfect.

She’d thought it was perfect.

Until one night proved how quickly perfect could disappear.

Now, the music was unbearably loud the second Sloane stepped through the fraternity house door. Bass pounded through the floorboards and straight into her chest. The air smelled like cheap beer, sweat, and something sweet she couldn’t identify.

Her stomach twisted.

She stopped moving.

She shouldn’t be here.

“This way!” Jaycee shouted over the music.

Before Sloane could answer, her new roommate grabbed her hand and pulled her farther into the crowded room.

“Jaycee, I think I should go back to the dorm,” Sloane said, nervously glancing around.

“That is ridiculous.” Jaycee laughed, rolling her eyes.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Sloane didn’t laugh. She had only known Jaycee for five days. They’d met on move-in day, and somehow, in less than a week, Jaycee had decided they were going to be best friends.

Sloane wasn’t sure she was ready for a best friend again.

She wasn’t even sure she was ready to be here... at a party again.

Bodies crowded every inch of the living room. People danced against one another, shouted over the music, and passed cups between them.

Sloane’s pulse quickened.

The last party she’d attended flashed through her mind.

The pool.

The alcohol.

Chase.

Then her father’s face.

And the words that came in the car afterward.

She swallowed hard. “I can’t do this.”

Jaycee turned around. “Do what?”

“This.” Sloane gestured toward the party. “I can’t do it.”

She pulled her hand free.

“Sloane—”

But Sloane was already backing toward the door.

She needed air.

She needed distance.

She needed—

Thud.

Sloane slammed into something solid.

Or someone.

“Watch it, freshie.”

Two large hands closed around her waist, steadying her before moving her roughly to the side.

Sloane’s head snapped up, meeting a pair of dark brown eyes staring down at her. The guy standing in front of her was tall, broad-shouldered, and unmistakably a football player. His fitted shirt stretched across his muscular chest, and the unimpressed expression on his face suggested he’d never once considered the possibility that he might be the problem.

“Sorry,” Sloane muttered, still trying to catch her breath.

“I’m tired of you freshies trying anything to get my attention.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m not interested.”

Then he turned away.

Six months of trying to control her temper vanished in an instant.

“I don’t even know you!” Sloane yelled.

He stopped.

“So maybe you should watch it, asswipe.”

His shoulders stiffened. Slowly, he turned his head toward her.

“What did you call me?”

There it was.

That familiar rush of adrenaline Sloane hadn’t felt in months. The one that used to come right before her mouth got her into trouble.

She lifted her chin. “You heard me.”

Before he could respond, a brunette appeared beside him and shoved Sloane’s shoulder.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

Sloane looked down at her shoulder and then slowly back at the girl.

Seriously?

Her mouth fell open before an amused smirk took its place. “Wow. Asswipe needs a female bodyguard?” She glanced at the football player. “How degrading for you.”

Something changed in his expression.

For half a second, Sloane thought he might actually be angry.

Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted.

He was amused.

That irritated her even more.

Jaycee immediately grabbed Sloane’s arm and pulled her back. “Okay! We’re sorry.”

Sloane whipped her head toward her roommate. “We are not!”

Jaycee gave her a pleading look.

The brunette scoffed before turning away, but the football player continued watching Sloane for another second. That stupid smirk was still on his face before he finally followed the brunette toward the kitchen.

“Oh, hell no.”

Sloane started after them, but Jaycee caught her around the waist.

“What are you doing?” Jaycee demanded.

“Let go of me.”

“No.” Jaycee jumped in front of her before Sloane could get away. “Absolutely not.”

“She can’t just put her hands on me!”

“She barely touched you.”

“That isn’t the point!”

“And neither is starting a fight five minutes after we got here!”

“And he can’t talk to me like that!” Sloane shot back, irritated that Jaycee wasn’t taking her side.

“Shhh... Sloane.” Jaycee glanced nervously toward the kitchen.

“Don’t shush me.”

“Sloane.”

“What?”

Jaycee lowered her voice. “That is Ethan Cameron.”

Sloane blinked.

“And?”

Jaycee stared at her. “You don’t know who Ethan Cameron is?”

“Should I?”

Judging by the look on Jaycee’s face, apparently the answer was yes.

“Everyone knows Ethan Cameron.”

Sloane rolled her eyes. Of course they did.

“Let me guess. Pretty boy is the captain of the football team and thinks he’s the hottest thing on campus.”

She glanced toward the kitchen.

Ethan was leaning casually against the counter, filling a plastic cup from a keg.

He looked completely unaffected.

Like she hadn’t just called him an asswipe.

Like he hadn’t insulted her.

Like he’d already forgotten she existed.

That irritated her more than it should have.

“He better not come near me again,” Sloane muttered.

“I’m sure he won’t.” Jaycee grabbed her wrist. “Come on. Let’s get something to drink.”

“No alcohol.”

Jaycee stopped and looked at her. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Sloane didn’t explain. She wasn’t going to.

Not tonight.

She followed Jaycee toward the kitchen, but her attention drifted back to Ethan.

“He seriously thought I was hitting on him?” She crossed her arms. “Ridiculous.”

As if he’d heard her, Ethan looked directly at her.

“Asswipe,” she whispered.

His mouth curved into another slow, irritating smirk.

Sloane clenched her fists.

There was something about that smirk. Something about the way he looked at her like her anger was entertaining him instead of intimidating him.

Her temper flared again.

Before she could stop herself, she lifted both hands and flipped him off.

“Screw you!”

“Sloane!” Jaycee grabbed both of her wrists and forced her hands down. “Are you insane?”

Ethan laughed.

Actually laughed.

Then he lifted his cup toward Sloane in a mock toast.

Her jaw dropped.

The nerve of this jerk.

“First you call Ethan Cameron an asswipe, and now you’ve flipped him off.” Jaycee dragged her away from the kitchen. “Are you trying to commit social suicide for both of us?”

“I made a fair analysis.” Sloane smiled proudly. “He is an asswipe.”

“Damn, you have a temper, girl.”

Sloane froze.

The party disappeared around her for a moment.

Her mother had said those exact words countless times.

You have a temper, Sloane.

Usually followed by a smile.

Sometimes a teasing kiss on her forehead.

Sloane’s chest tightened.

She looked away from Jaycee before her roommate could see the sudden change in her expression.

For six months, Sloane had been trying to become someone else.

Someone quieter.

Someone calmer.

Someone who didn’t scream when she was angry. Someone who didn’t drink when she was hurting. Someone who didn’t wake up every morning wondering how her entire life could have changed in a single night.

She’d been doing better.

At least, she’d convinced herself she was.

Until tonight.

Until Ethan Cameron.

Maybe it was the party. Maybe it was the music pounding through the walls or the smell of alcohol surrounding her.

Or maybe it was because, for the first time in six months, she’d walked into a place that felt exactly like the night everything had gone wrong.

Sloane swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

She wasn’t going to cry.

Not here.

Not tonight.

She glanced toward the kitchen one last time.

Ethan Cameron was already looking at her.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly before that irritating smirk returned. Then, without breaking eye contact with Sloane, he pulled the brunette closer.

Sloane rolled her eyes and turned toward the door.

What an asswipe.

She had survived exactly one week of college without making an enemy, and apparently that streak was officially over.

Whatever.

This campus was huge. There were thousands of students here. After tonight, there was absolutely no reason she should ever have to deal with Ethan Cameron again.

And that was perfectly fine with her.

Because if Sloane never saw that arrogant asswipe again, it would still be too soon.

Apparently, Ethan Cameron didn’t like freshies.

Well, this freshie couldn’t stand him either.