Lacy and the guys were playing “I Never,” a drinking game in which someone says they’ve never done something and everyone who has done it must drink. There were two ways to play. We could say something we thought was outlandish to see who had done it. Or we lied and said something everyone has done so the group got drunk quicker. The latter seemed to be the case with tonight’s game.

“I’ve never been drunk,” Scott lied, and tipped his beer back along with the rest of us.

“I’ve never been to a party.” Kristen raised her beer so we could all toast before taking another long drink.

“I’ve never fucked an—” Bobby began. I didn’t hear him finish because Brett, the guys’ fourth roommate, pushed through the door.

“Hey, man! Pull up a seat.” Scott slid Brett a chair from the kitchen table with his foot.

Brett was one of Central State’s star rugby players. I’d known him since freshman year because he lived on the floor below Kristen and me in the dorms.

“Drink, Auden. We all know you’re fucking a hockey player,” Chad teased me.

“I didn’t even hear what Bobby said.” I’d laughed at the previous responses in the game, but scowled when Chad mentioned a hockey player.

“I said, I’ve never fucked an athlete,” Bobby repeated.

Oh good, now everyone was listening.

“And I said drink because you’re fucking Varenkov.” Chad saluted me with his beer. I know the guys didn’t mean any harm. They didn’t know Aleksandr and I had broken up.

“Was. I was fucking a hockey player,” I mumbled, and tried to drop the subject by lifting my beer to my lips.

“What?” Bobby and Chad asked in unison.

“Lace, did you remember to get more milk?” Kristen asked, steering the conversation from Aleksandr to our grocery needs.

Worst diversion ever.

“I’m single and on the prowl.” I pulled the candy necklace away from my neck with my thumb and shimmied in my seat, feigning excitement about it.

“You should fuck Brett,” Scott said with a wink. “I hear he’s good.”

So had I, but hearing Scott say it was just plain comical, since his current girlfriend was the one who’d told me all about how good Brett had been in bed. Lacy had slept with Brett before she’d started dating Scott, of course. It was all so soap-opera incestual in our group of friends. Kristen dated Scott freshman year. Lacy hooked up with Brett around the same time. That had been before Scott and Brett joined the same fraternity and met each other, but still. The guys we knew were like a joint, everyone took a turn and passed it on.

“Leave her alone,” Brett said, snapping his Heineken bottle cap at Scott.

“Ow, dude!” Scott winced as the green cap bounced off his forehead.

I couldn’t deny Brett was hot. Dark blond hair, bronze eyes, a square jaw, and a large, muscular rugby player’s body—what’s not to like? Instead of staring at the rock-hard thighs I’d previously been between, I downed my beer and opened another. The “I Never” game continued.

Did I forget to mention my being between Brett’s rock-hard thighs before? Freshman year was my wild and crazy, I’m-away-from-my-overprotective-grandparents-for-the-first-time part of my life. I’d been ecstatic when Brett invited me to his dorm to watch a movie. Unbeknownst to me, “watching a movie” was eighteen-year-old boy slang for heavy making out on a lumpy futon. It was the first time I’d ever made out. It was the first time I’d ever kissed a guy. Being nestled between Brett’s hard—but not as hard as their current state—thighs, kissing and exploring, was pretty damn awesome. Until he wanted to go further, and I didn’t. Having his palm on my boob was further than I wanted to go, but I let it happen anyway.

I spilled every ounce of my guts to Kristen when I got back to our dorm. I couldn’t stop talking about Brett. We made plans A and B for how I should act when I saw him next. We made plans C and D for what to say when he asked me over again. But Brett didn’t invite me over again. In fact, he barely even spoke to me when I saw him in the elevator or dining hall.

Kristen said not to worry about it. He was a prick for expecting me to have sex with him on our first date. Except that it turned into a bit of a pattern with men. When I thought a guy liked me, I agreed to go out with him, and make out and not have sex, because I wasn’t ready to have sex. I’d even tried a no-kissing-on-the-first-date rule. Same result. The second date never came.

That’s when I realized it was me. It had to be me, right?

After we’d finished pre-partying, Kristen and I split from Lacy and the boys because we wanted to hang out at a party at my bandmates’ house. Plus, we wanted to stop at a few places on the way because I needed to find guys to bite the candies off my necklace. It was sad and desperate to need a man, other than Aleksandr, to find me attractive.

—

It was almost two in the morning when Kristen and I stumbled in the door of the house my bandmates shared. We’d gotten slightly caught up in parties, and may have taken a detour to have a drink at the Thorne before hitting up the guys’ house.

Aaron and Greg sat on the atrocious, light green couch littered with gaudy pink flowers. A large, black beanbag sat on the floor between the front door and the couch. I knew it was black because I’d been here before, but I could barely see it at the moment, since Josh and whoever he had pinned down covered most of it.

“Better late than never, eh, Aud?” Aaron looked up from the guitar he was strumming. It was a relief to be in the company of guys I trusted, rather than a guy who had friends who drugged me and a guy who stopped speaking to me when I wouldn’t fuck him.

Though I knew the beanbag was there, I still tripped over it on my way to the couch. Thankfully I hadn’t interrupted Josh eating the face off what I’d assumed was a girl, and not a shiny, brunette mop. Taking a huge step to clear the beanbag, I collapsed onto the spot Aaron and Greg had cleared between them.

“Jesus, Auden,” Greg said, helping me straighten up. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

“I drink,” I said as I wiggled into the couch cushion. “Just not much. Usually.”

“Come on over, KK.” Aaron set his guitar on the floor, leaning it against the arm of the couch. He patted his thighs. “You know you want to sit on my lap.”

“You know it, A-A-Ron.” Kristen laughed but joined us on the couch, avoiding Josh’s love bag by mere inches. She took her spot on Aaron’s lap, as a joke, I think. She’d never mentioned an interest in Aaron.

My head fell back against the couch and I closed my eyes. I probably could have passed out if the room hadn’t been spinning. I opened my eyes to focus on Greg. “You don’t look as drunk as the rest of us.”

“I’m not. My mom’s in town. We did the whole dinner-and-a-movie thing.” Greg tipped his beer back.

“Aww, date night with Mom.” I smiled.

“Looks like you did well tonight.” Greg pointed his bottle at the few candy rings remaining on the necklace.

“Not gone yet,” I told him, pulling the elastic string away from my neck and holding it out to him. “Wanna help?”

Kristen leaned over. “Don’t do it, Greg.”

I knew she was looking out for me, and I appreciated it. But how could I get past Aleksandr if I never got back into the singles scene?

“I’m all here, KK,” I assured her, trying to tap my temple and poking myself in the eye instead. “Don’t worry about me.”

Greg ignored Kristen’s warning and leaned over to bite a piece of candy off, teeth grazing my neck as he nuzzled. It made me tingle. He looked up at me, chewing slowly.

“Don’t you want to finish me off?” I asked.

Greg nodded, eyes glowing like a cat’s in the dark.

I groaned when someone’s full body weight crushed my stomach. Kristen crawled across my lap and situated herself between me and Greg.

“No!” she said, her head swiveling between us. “You”—she poked Greg in the chest—“don’t touch her candies.”