Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(49)

Keeping my shirt on, I yank the white tee over my clothes and pull my hair out of the collar, layering up. Then we enter the madness.

Some guy with a neon green wig runs at me screaming like a banshee. He brandishes a giant pink highlighter and streaks it right across my boobs. That’s lovely.

Connor finds my hand and tugs me in a different direction. “What does he look like?!” he yells over the blasting music that vibrates my feet.

I dodge a purple highlighter that heads for my bare arm and pop up Lo’s picture on my phone.

“I know this guy!” He points to the screen. “He’s in my International Affairs class!”

I suppose that’s not that big of a coincidence. Business majors have to take all the same upper-electives. “That’s good! Should we split up?!” A girl squeals beside me and draws a yellow line right across my ass. Seriously? I’m not even wearing white shorts. The marker stains an ugly brown color on my jean pants.

He scouts the party and nods. “I’ll be on the side with the canvas and paint!” There’s paint around here?! Yeah, he can take that area. “You check out the keg.”

Good, he sends me to the one place Lo will probably be if he attended this crazed party, even if he considers keg beer to be the equivalent of cat piss. Huddled around the keg, people with markers are sparse, which leaves college students who came for free beer.

A lanky guy covered in neon blue paint does a keg stand, his shirt flopping over his head and revealing patches of curly hair on his chest. He chugs the bitter drink, and it takes only a couple minutes to deduce that Lo isn’t here.

I should have known. Cheap alcohol and ear-splitting music have not been part of his ritual since he was sixteen. While Lo may not have fully matured yet, his indulgences have.

I try calling him again, but it goes straight to voicemail.

“Lily?”

I frown and spin on my heels to face the male voice. I don’t recognize him until I spot his highlighted fraternity shirt: Kappa Phi Delta. The frat house Lo picked me up at.

His blond hair blows in the wind, but the cold misses me as my whole body heats in an uncomfortable embrace. I guess I’m the real jerk in this scenario since I ditched him so quickly after the one-night stand.

He notices my confusion and points to his chest. “Kevin.” He nods to the keg. “Can I get you a drink?” Translation: Do you want to do it again?

Before I decline, Connor bounds over, face flushed from fighting through tangled bodies. His white tee is splashed in a variety of neon paints and streaked with highlighters. Someone missed the shirt, and his elbow glows bright pink. “I didn’t find him,” he tells me.

“Connor Cobalt!” Kevin exclaims.

Oh my God. They do not know each other. Where am I?

Connor turns and his grin widens as he sees Kevin. “Hey, man!” They exchange the bro-hug: a handshake, squeeze, lean in and slap on the back. I never understand those.

“I’m surprised to see your ass here,” Kevin says with a smile. “I thought keggers were far too inferior for Mr. Connor Cobalt.” Glad to know other people find his full name fascinating.

“Actually, I’m on the clock.”

“You call this tutoring?” Kevin’s eyes drop to the number written across Connor’s hand. “Damn, man, maybe I should adopt your methods. All I get out of my hours are headaches.” He glances at me, noticing my lingering presence. “Oh, this is Lily.” Obviously Kevin idiotically spaced out when Connor acknowledged me earlier.

Connor frowns deeply and tilts his head towards me. I want to smile. Yeah, you don’t have me all figured out.

“Yeah, I know,” Connor says. “I’m tutoring her. Econ.”

Kevin presses two fingers to his lips, trying to suppress his amusement. “You mean, you’re ‘tutoring’ her, right?” The douchebag even uses air quotes and nudges Connor’s shoulder suggestively.

My nose flares and heats again. I’m standing right here!

Surprisingly, Connor’s face contorts in disgust. He brushes Kevin’s shoulder off like he may have infected him. “No, I mean I’m actually tutoring her, Kevin. We’re here to find her boyfriend. She can’t get ahold of him.” He turns a fraction, closing off his body to his…friend? I can’t tell anymore. Connor is an enigma. He says offensive things and then becomes affronted when someone else dishes it out—though less subtly.

Kevin doesn’t take the hint. “Yeah, my brothers told me about him. He came to collect her the morning after at the house.”

I watch as Connor opens his mouth, but I don’t let him speak.

“I was single,” I defend myself, even if my rash-like mortification spreads. Mixed with neon highlighter, I must look like a freak. “And just so you know, you were an awful lay.” I turn to go and then on second thought—I whip around and slap the Solo cup from his hands. The frothy beer soaks in the grass and Kevin rolls his eyes as if this isn’t the first time a girl has assaulted his keg beer.

I inhale a strained breath and march away, pushing past people, not even caring when someone smears green on my cheek. Whatever. Nothing can make this night worse.

Connor catches up to my side as we find a break in the bodies, but I keep my speedy pace towards the parking lot.

He says, “I was about to tell him he’s a moron, but I think your method was far more effective.”