Dallas and I laugh.

“So, curfew is at twelve tonight. Be there at one.”

“Wait. How do we get in?”

“Oh, shit. I almost forgot. Your dorm faces the woods. Walk that way, so no one sees you. The second window will be open. Just climb in and take the stairs up to the party. If you have any trouble, text me. Here, give me your phone.”

He grabs my phone, puts in Tyresebaby and his number, winks at me, and leaves.

“You gotta take me to one of these parties,” Dallas tells me.

“Let’s wait until I’m actually invited myself, and then you’re in. And before the others get back,” I say as I see them walking toward us. “Anytime you wanna go back to the cave, you text me.”

He’s kissing my soul.

1:15 am

Katie is excited to go to the party. She’s been chattering nervously about it for the last hour while we unpacked all of our clothes and put them away. She’s also a junior, who has apparently been on the waiting list since freshman year. They told her they had a last minute opening a couple weeks ago, and she decided to come even though her friends and boyfriend thought she was nuts.

We checked our window and, as expected, it glided effortlessly open. She wanted to leave at 12:55, so we would be there right at one, when the party supposedly starts. But no way was I going to look like an overeager B-list actor trying to get into an A-list party. I told her we weren’t leaving until 1:15.

At least.

At 1:15, she can’t wait any longer. She’s had two Red Bulls and is bursting at the seams.

Katie climbs out the window quite gracefully. I pretty much fall out of it and into the bushes. I’ve never had to sneak out before.

“How did you do that?” I ask her as I’m picking leaves off my shorts. We had a big dilemma about what to wear tonight. She wanted to be all decked out. I thought maybe we should look more casual. Pajama party casual. We discussed it for about an hour. Killed some time at least.

“Get out of the window without falling?” she whispers. “I snuck out my window at home all summer to see my boyfriend.”

“And what exactly were you doing with your boyfriend in the middle of the night?”

She smiles and blushes. “Well, you know. Mostly, we just made out, but toward the end of the summer we started having sex. Well, we did it a few times anyway. It was so awkward. But we were both virgins, so I wasn’t really expecting much.”

“Well, when you do it again, hopefully it will be with someone more experienced. I liked it. A lot.”

“Like tonight? Do you think that stuff goes on at this party? I really have no idea what to expect.”

“I would guess it’s like any party. Drugs. Alcohol. Hooking up.”

“I can’t get drunk. I’m not much of a drinker, and I’ve never smoked or done any drugs before.”

“Only have two drinks, then. If you get all drunk, stupid, and loud, you won’t get invited back.”

“We want invited back. They’re hot!”

“Shhh! Exactly. And we need to be quiet.”

We sneak over to the Hawthorne dorm and find window number two open as planned. We slide in and go up to the plan B room.

Isn’t Plan B like the morning after pill?

Yikes. Hope that isn’t indicative of how the night will go.

The door to 38B is wide open, and there are about twenty people crammed into the room. Well, twenty-two now.

Tyrese is standing by the door. He says, “Keatyn, baby, who’s your friend?”

I introduce him to Katie, and leave them to talk. If I have learned one thing from my mom, it’s how to work a party. Never stay up front. The good stuff is always in the back. And always make a full sweep of the room before you stop to chat.

I’m specifically looking for something to drink and for Riley. Instead, I get to the back of the room and find an entire keg of beer, with Dawson pumping it.

He sees me and says, “Damn. I didn’t know this was a pajama party. I like seeing what you wear to bed. Want me to take my clothes off and show you what I wear?”

I’m wearing a pair of fuchsia and black striped Juicy Couture sleep shorts, a little white tank top, and black Koolaburra boots.

And I’m kinda bad, but I’m still wearing my leopard-print bra underneath.

And I was wrong. Very wrong. No one else is in pajamas. They are still all decked out. Whitney especially.

Nothing like being a fashion disaster at my first party. I should have called Kym for advice on what to wear. I look like a middle-schooler going to her first pajama party. I’m such an idiot. I should know better than this. L.A. is the capital of dressed-up casual.

But screw it. The way Dawson is staring at my tank top, I don’t think he cares what I have on. And for some reason, having this gorgeous guy stare at my chest when I look ridiculous makes me feel bold.

I take a step closer to him, grab the beer out of his hand, and take a big drink. “I never said this is what I wear to bed.”

“You really shouldn’t flirt with me. I told my brother that if he didn’t get busy with you, I would.”

“I’m not flirting with you, and I don’t wanna get busy with you.”

“Oh, yeah, you do. You just won’t admit it yet.”

“Where is your brother anyway?”

“Hasn’t shown up. Loser probably fell asleep and is busy having some little boy wet dream about you.” He grabs my waist, much like his brother did earlier, and pulls me toward him. “How about I show you?”

I take a long, slow drink of his beer. Trying to cool him down. But it doesn’t work, because he’s peeking down my tank top, eyeing my bra, then putting his hand up to touch it.

And, yeah, you know who chooses this exact moment to wander up to the keg.

The Hottie.

In the flesh.

“Stop that!” I tell Dawson, smacking his hand away.

He releases me from his grip and says, “S’up, Aiden?”

Aiden scowls at him. “You’re never gonna get Whitney back doing shit like that. She’s giving you the death stare.”

We all turn and look at Whitney at the same time, but it’s clear she isn’t giving Dawson the death stare. She’s giving it to me.

Shit.

Dawson looks like a little boy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I almost feel sorry for him.

Aiden turns to me and demands, “Come with me.”

He pulls me down on a futon next to him. On the other end of it is a couple furiously making out.

“What are you doing at this party?”

Just who does he think he is? “I was invited. Dawson invited Riley and me, and then Tyrese told me to bring my roommate.”

“I don’t think Riley is even here.”

“I know. I haven’t seen him yet.”

“So, you like beer?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’d rather have a bottle, like a Corona or something, but it’s whatever.”

“I’ll see I have it next time.”

“You’ll have it? You act like this is your party.”

“Well, that’s because it is. My room. My party.”

“Well big shot, if that’s the case, what do you have besides beer?”

“You do drugs?”

“No! Do you?”

“No, I’m not into that shit, but plenty of people here are.” He nods his head toward Whitney, who snorts cocaine out of her fingernail and then starts making out with Jake. “I just smoke some.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He flashes me a grin. “Tell you what. Come across the hall to Bryce’s room. That’s where we keep the good stuff. I’ll make you a drink.”

He leads me out of the party and across the hall, opens the door to an empty dorm room, turns on a lamp, then gently pushes me up against the door and kisses me.

Again, it’s a slow, soft, amazing kiss. The kind of kiss that makes me feel like he’s kissing my soul.

Oh my gosh. What the heck does that even mean? Kissing my soul? I’m seriously losing it here.

It’s official. Almost getting kidnapped has affected me. I definitely have some sort of post-traumatic stress thing, and the symptoms must include having irrational thoughts about Hottie Gods.