Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)(35)

“It’s okay.” I take a large gulp of beer. “I don’t really want to see him right now.”

The honest admission catches me by surprise. There’s no one else I’d rather come to a party with than Jordan. He’s all chill, and I feel like it balances out my anxiety in this situation. And I think he might want to hang out with me too. I mean, why else would he have asked me to come tonight? That, or he’s really shipping Liam and me.

Jordan nods thoughtfully. “Need a little liquid courage first?”

I open my mouth to tell him that isn’t it, but I’m suddenly not so sure I’ve read things right. Maybe he didn’t bring me here for Liam or for himself, but because he felt sorry for me. That would be the absolute worst. I don’t want his pity.

It makes the most sense, though, as I glance around the party. Girls openly stare at him. Two eventually approach, hugging Jordan and then falling into conversation with him about the game.

I take another sip of beer and try not to eavesdrop. More girls are looking this way—at Jordan and then to me. I was prepared to be invisible, but the looks these girls are shooting me tell me: 1. They see me, and 2. They don’t understand why Jordan walked in with me.

I know that no one cares I’m here, or, let’s be honest, would have even noticed if it weren’t for Jordan. I’m nobody. And while being here is everything I’ve wanted since I moved in next door, coming with one of the most popular guys on campus was not the smartest decision. Talk about being thrown into the lion’s den.

“This is Daisy,” Jordan’s voice cuts through my thoughts. He introduces me to the girls and steps closer to me.

“Are you in Chi Omega?” one asks.

“No.”

The other squints at me. “You dated Jenkins last year?”

I shake my head.

They’re trying so hard to place me. They can’t fathom why Jordan would hang out with me.

He touches my elbow, sending a jolt up my arm. Then, with a smile at the two girls, he says, “We’ll see you guys later.”

Gently, he tugs me with him. I offer a brittle smile and wave at the girls now glaring at me.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he leads me onto the patio that spans the width of the house.

“Liquid courage.”

“You don’t have to do this.” I pull free of his hold.

“Do what?”

“Hang out with me.”

He chuckles. “Thanks, but I like my nipples.”

On the patio, a large group sits around a long table. Beer cans cover almost every surface. A timer goes off, and someone yells, “Drink!”

All around the table, people lift shot glasses and toss them back. I watch as people finish and refill the glass with beer.

“Ever done century club?” He nods his head in greeting to people at the table and then pulls out a chair for me.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“You’ve never heard of century club?” He takes the chair next to me and grabs us each a shot glass.

“Trust me, I don’t relish being dumb, so just assume if I’m asking, I genuinely don’t know.”

Laughing, he fills our glasses. “The rules are simple. You take a shot of beer every minute for one hundred minutes.”

“Drink!”

Everyone around us takes their shot, and Jordan holds up his glass, then waits for me.

“Like power hour,” I say.

“Yep, except longer.”

“Yeah, that’s a lot of beer in less than two hours.”

“It’s the fastest way I know to get drunk,” he says. “Unless you can stomach Everclear?”

“This is fine.” I take the shot, and Jordan immediately refills our glasses.

We’re at the end of the table, and the people around us are coupled up and not paying us a lot of attention.

Jordan’s wearing a hat, as usual. He lifts it and drops it onto one knee.

His black hair is messy, but it still suits him. I like how the ends are always a little unruly, just like him. “You have nice hair.”

“Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.” He pauses. “Wait, are you drunk already?”

“You’re shit at taking a compliment.”

“Oh, like you’re so good at it?” He shoots me a knowing glance. It’s time to drink again, and he leans back casually in his chair as he takes it.

“Fair point.”

It takes very few shots of beer before my stomach feels too full. So I skip the next several. Jordan smirks, toasts the air, and keeps going. I wonder if he needs some liquid courage tonight, too.

“Who’s Eric?”

It takes me a second to figure out who he’s talking about. “He’s a friend of Jane’s. He has a house off campus.”

“Is that where you usually party?”

“Occasionally. Mostly, we hang at our house.” I take the next shot. Jordan continues to refill my glass each time.

“Do you only go places your friends go?”

“You ask that like it’s a terrible thing. Isn’t that why you’re here? To hang with your friends.” I wave my hand toward the party that’s growing in size with every shot we take.

“The difference is if I wanted to go somewhere and my friends didn’t, I’d go by myself.”