The Deal (Off-Campus, #1)(49)

“It’s a party, Wellsy. Won’t kill you to have one measly beer.”

“No,” she says firmly.

I shrug and take a sip of the watery alcohol. The beer is cheap as f*ck, but that’s probably a good thing. Means there’s no chance of me getting wasted off this shit, not unless I drink a whole keg to myself.

As the kitchen empties out, Hannah leans against the counter and sighs. “I hate parties,” she says glumly.

“Maybe that’s because you refuse to drink,” I tease.

“Go ahead and bring on the prude jokes. I don’t mind.”

“I know you’re not a prude.” I wag my eyebrows. “A prude doesn’t kiss the way you do.”

Her cheeks redden. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you’ve got a sexy tongue and you know how to use it.” Ah shit, wrong thing to say. Because now I’m hard. Luckily, my jeans are tight enough to keep my erection from tenting like an *.

“Sometimes I think you say things just to make me blush,” Hannah accuses.

“Nope. I’m just being honest.” A swell of voices wafts past the kitchen, and I find myself praying that nobody walks in. I like being alone with Hannah.

And even though there’s no reason to put on a show when we’re alone, I still move closer and sling one arm around her shoulder as I take another sip of water-beer.

“In all seriousness, why are you so anti-drinking?” I ask gruffly.

“I’m not anti-drinking.” She pauses. “I actually kind of like it. In moderation, of course.”

“Of course,” I echo, rolling my eyes before reaching for the second cup I left on the counter. “Would you have a beer already?”

“No.”

I have to laugh. “You just said you liked it.”

“I don’t mind drinking in my room with Allie, but I never do it at parties.”

“Oh jeez. So you sit at home like a wino when you drink?”

“No.” She looks exasperated. “Just…drop it, will you?”

“Do I ever drop anything?”

Her exasperation turns to defeat. “Look, I get paranoid about what might be in my cup, all right?”

Insult prickles my skin. “For f*ck’s sake, you think I’d roofie you?”

“No, of course not.”

Her swift response eases my concerns, but when she adds, “Not you, anyway,” it triggers my suspicion.

“Did…” I frown deeply. “Did that happen to you?”

Hannah’s face goes stricken for a beat, and then she slowly shakes her head. “It happened to a friend of mine in high school. She was drugged.”

My jaw falls open. “Seriously?”

She nods. “Someone slipped her GHB at a party…and, um…let’s just say it wasn’t a good night for her, okay?”

“Oh shit. That’s all kinds of f*cked up. Was she okay?”

Hannah looks sad. “Yeah. She was fine.” She gives an awkward shrug. “But it made me distrustful about drinking in public. Even if I pour the drink myself…who knows what will happen if I turn away, even for a second. I refuse to take that chance.”

My voice thickens. “You know I’d never let that happen to you, right?”

“Um, yeah. Sure, I do.” But she doesn’t sound fully convinced, and I can’t bring myself to be offended about it because I suspect her friend’s experience really screwed with Hannah’s head. And with good reason.

I’ve heard horror stories like that before. As far as I know, it hasn’t happened at Briar, but I know it goes on at other colleges. Girls unwittingly ingesting E or Rohypnol, or getting shit-faced out of their minds while immoral creeps take advantage of them in that state. I honestly don’t understand guys who would do that to a woman. As far as I’m concerned, they should all be behind bars.

But now that I know the reason behind her no-drinking rule, I quit bugging Hannah about having a beer, and we head back to the main room. Hannah’s eyes scan the crowd, and I instantly stiffen because I know she’s looking for Kohl.

Fortunately, he’s nowhere to be seen.

We mingle for a while. Every time I introduce her to someone, they look surprised, as if they can’t understand why I’m with her and not some ditzy sorority girl. And more than one guy ogles Hannah’s breasts before winking at me as if to say good job.

I officially take back my earlier claim—I wish I hadn’t convinced her to wear that top. For some reason, the appreciative stares she’s receiving really piss me off. But I swallow the possessive caveman urges and try to enjoy the party. The crowd is more football than hockey, but I still know almost everyone there, which causes Hannah to mutter, “Jeez. How do you know all these people?”

I smirk at her. “I told you I’m popular. Hey, there’s Beau. Come on, let’s go over and say hi.”

Beau Maxwell is the typical college quarterback. He’s got it all—the looks, the swagger, and most important, the talent. But although anyone else in his position might think it’s their right to be a total douchebag, Beau’s actually kinda decent. He’s a history major like me, and he looks genuinely happy to see me tonight.

“G, you made it! Here, try this.” He holds out a bottle of…something. The bottle is black and has no label, so I have no clue what he’s offering.