"No, thank fuck," Jimmy answers. "He's got a house off-campus. He's always bragging about it, but I bet you his father pays his rent."
I wrinkle my forehead. "Why do you say that? Is his family rich or something?"
Jimmy looks surprised. "You don't know who his dad is?"
"No. Should I?"
"It's Phil Graham." When the groove in my forehead deepens, Jimmy elaborates. "Forward for the New York Rangers? Two-time Stanley Cup champ? Hockey legend?"
The one hockey team I know anything about is the Chicago Blackhawks, and that's only because my dad is a rabid fan and makes me watch the games with him. Ergo, I have zero knowledge of a man who played for the Rangers, what, twenty years ago? But I'm not surprised to hear that Garrett hails from hockey royalty. He's got that superior sense of entitlement down pat.
"I wonder why Garrett didn't go to college in New York then," I say politely.
"Graham Sr. finished out his career in Boston," Jimmy explains. "I guess the family decided to stay in Massachusetts after he retired."
The song blessedly comes to an end, and I hastily excuse myself by pretending I need to use the washroom. Jimmy makes me promise to dance with him again, then winks and wanders off toward the beer pong table.
Since I don't want him to know I lied about the bathroom, I follow through on the pee charade by leaving the living room to loiter in the front parlor for a bit, which is where Allie finds me a few minutes later.
"Hey! Are you having a good time?" Her eyes are bright and her cheeks are flushed, but I know she hasn't been drinking. She promised to stay sober, and Allie never breaks her promises.
"Yeah, I guess. I think I'm taking off soon, though."
"Aw no, you can't go yet! I just saw you dancing with Jim Paulson-you looked like you were having fun."
Really? I guess I'm a much better actress than I thought.
"He's cute," she adds with a meaningful look.
"Naah, he's not my type. Too preppy."
"Well, I know someone who is your type." Allie wiggles her eyebrows before lowering her voice to a teasing whisper. "And don't turn around, but he just walked through the door."
My heart takes off like a kite in a windstorm. Don't turn around? Don't people realize that saying that is guaranteed to make someone do the exact opposite?
I swivel my head toward the front door, then swivel it right back because oh my God. She's right. Justin has finally shown up.
And since the glimpse I stole was far too fleeting, I rely on Allie to fill in the blanks. "Is he alone?" I murmur.
"He's with a few of his teammates," she murmurs back. "None of them brought dates, though."
I do my best impression of a person who's just talking to a friend and is in no way crushing on the guy standing ten feet away. And it works, because Justin and his buddies walk right past Allie and me, their loud laughter quickly swallowed up by a swell of music.
"You're blushing," she teases.
"I know." I groan softly. "Fuck. This crush is so stupid, A. Why are you letting me embarrass myself like this?"
"Because I don't think it's stupid at all. And it's not embarrassing-it's healthy." She grabs my arm and proceeds to drag me back to the living room. The stereo volume is lower now, but animated chatter continues to buzz through the room.
"Seriously, Han, you're young and beautiful, and I want you to fall in love. I don't care who it's with as long as-why is Garrett Graham staring at you?"
I follow her startled gaze and smother another groan when Garrett's gray eyes lock onto mine.
"Because he's stalking me," I grumble.
Her eyebrows soar. "For real?"
"Pretty much, yeah. He's failing Ethics, and he knows I did well on the midterm so now he's demanding I tutor him. The guy can't take no for an answer."
She snickers. "I think you might be the only girl who's ever turned him down."
"If only the rest of the female population was as smart as I am."
I gaze past Allie's shoulder and scan the room for Justin, and my pulse speeds up when I spot him by the pool table. He's wearing black pants and a gray cable-knit sweater, and his hair is messy, falling onto his strong forehead. God, I love that just-rolled-out-of-bed look he has going on. He's not all gelled up like his buddies, nor is he wearing his football jacket like the rest of them.
"Allie, get your cute ass over here!" Sean shouts from the Ping-Pong table. "I need my pong partner!"
A pretty blush blooms on her cheeks. "Wanna watch us kick some beer pong butt? Minus the beer," she adds quickly. "Sean knows I'm not drinking tonight."
I'm hit with another jolt of guilt. "That's no fun," I say lightly. "You've gotta have the beer to play the pong."
She firmly shakes her head. "I promised you I wouldn't drink."
"And I'm not planning on sticking around for much longer," I counter. "So there's no reason for you not to get your buzz on."
"But I want you to stay," she protests.
"How about this? I'll stay for another half hour, but only if you allow yourself to have some actual fun. I know we made a deal in freshman year, but I'm not holding you to it anymore, A."
I mean every word, because I really do hate that she has to babysit me every time we go out. It's not fair to her. And after two years at Briar, I know it's time for me to lower my guard, at least a little bit.
"Come on, I want to see you show off those mad beer pong skills." I link my arm through hers, and she laughs as I drag her over to Sean and his friends.
"Hannah!" Sean says in delight. "You playing?"
"Nope," I reply. "Just cheering on my bestie."
Allie joins Sean at one end of the table, and for the next ten minutes, I watch the most intense beer pong match on the planet unfold. But the entire time, I'm wholly aware of Justin, who's chatting with his teammates across the room.
Eventually, I wander off because I finally do need to use the restroom. There's one on the main floor near the kitchen, but the line is crazy long and it's ages before I get a turn. I quickly do my business, then walk out of the bathroom-and slam into a hard male chest.
"You should really watch where you're going," a husky voice remarks.
My heart stops.
Justin's dark eyes twinkle with humor as he places his hand on my arm to steady me. The moment he touches me, heat sears my flesh and unleashes a flurry of goose bumps.
"Sorry," I stammer.
"No worries." Smiling, he pats his chest down. "I'm still in one piece."
I suddenly notice that there's no one waiting to use the washroom anymore. It's just Justin and me in the hallway, and God, he's even better looking close up. He's also much taller than I realized-I have to tilt my head to meet his eyes.
"You're in Ethics with me, aren't you?" he asks in that deep, sexy voice of his.
I nod.
"I'm Justin."
He introduces himself as if there might actually be someone at Briar who doesn't know his name. But I find his modesty is adorable.
"I'm Hannah."
"How'd you do on the midterm?"
"I got an A," I admit. "You?"
"B minus."
I can't hide my surprise. "Really? I guess we're the lucky ones, then. Everyone else bombed it."
"I think it makes us smart, not lucky."
His grin makes me melt. Seriously. I'm a puddle of goo on the floor, unable to look away from those magnetic dark eyes. And he smells fantastic, like soap and lemony aftershave. Would it be inappropriate if I pressed my face in his neck and inhaled him?
Uh … yeah. It would.
"So … " I try to think of something clever or interesting to say, but I'm too nervous to be witty at the moment. "You play football, huh?"
He nods. "Wide receiver. Are you a fan?" A dimple appears in his chin. "Of the game, I mean."
I'm not, but I suppose I could lie and pretend to like his sport. Except that's a risky move, because then he might try to talk "shop" with me, and I don't know enough about football to carry a whole conversation about it.
"Not really," I confess with a sigh. "I've seen a game or two, but honestly, it's too slow for my liking. Seems like you guys play for five seconds, and then someone blows a whistle and you stand around for hours before the next play starts."
Justin laughs. He's got a great laugh. Low and husky and I feel it right down to my toes. "Yeah, I've heard that complaint before. It's different when you're playing it, though. A lot more intense than you'd think. And if you're invested in a team or certain players, you pick up the rules a lot faster." He slants his head. "You should come to one of our games. I bet you'd have fun."
Holy shit. He's inviting me to one of his games?
"Uh, yeah, maybe I will-"
"Kohl!" a loud voice interrupts. "We're up!"
We both turn as a blond behemoth pokes his head out of the living room doorway. It's one of Justin's teammates, and he's wearing a look of extreme impatience.