Undeclared(76)

“Oooh, threats,” I teased.

Noah looked at me with a serious expression. “Nope, not a threat. A promise.”

My laughter kind of died in my throat. I wasn’t sure what he was saying to me. I know what I wanted it to mean. I spoke, but my voice was raspy. “I was just joking.”

“I know,” he replied. “I wasn’t.”

Finn coughed to remind us he was still present. I changed the subject.

“Do you guys charge for the party?”

“No, charging is for douchebags. If you want to host a party, pay for it,” Finn said, throwing a couple chips in his mouth. “Though maybe we shouldn’t have gone for the Patrón this time.”

“These parties get a little wild,” Noah agreed. “Open up,” he said and pushed a Jell-O shot in my mouth when I complied.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“No, but I figured one Jell-O shot early in the night wouldn’t hurt either of us.”

“Our parties are a goddamned debauchery,” Finn added, clapping his hand on Noah’s shoulder.

“Where’s her bracelet?” Finn asked, looking at my bare wrists.

“Don’t have any,” Noah said. “You and Adam went over to campus. I gave mine to Lana.”

“Oh man, I gave them all out at campus. I wasn’t even thinking. I tagged about two dozen hotties. I’m going to be morose when you and Bo graduate. No more college-—”

“Language,” Noah interrupted.

“Ladies,” Finn substituted. “Maybe I’ll have to audit some classes.”

I shook my head. Finn talked a big, dirty game, but I hadn’t seen him with anyone.

He went over to the patio doors and asked Adam whether he had any spares left. Finn turned and shook his head at us. “Negative, buddy.”

“Are you handing out jewelry to coeds? No wonder your parties are so popular,” I said. I pushed lightly against the counter, making a motion to get up. Noah absently pushed me back. He obviously wanted me to stay. He looked down at me, contemplatively, and I quirked an eyebrow up in question.

Then his hands went to his neck and pulled his dog tags off his chest and over his head. He strung the chain over my head. My hand came up to clutch at the metal, warm from his body.

“She’s wearing his dog tags,” Finn yelled back to the patio. Two heads—Adam and Mal’s—poked in the doorway.

I blushed but said, “You guys are worse than sorority sisters having a postmortem after a mixer.”

“Is she calling us pussies?” Mal asked.

“She’s calling you a pussy, jackhole,” Adam said and pushed Mal in the back of the head.

I shook my head. “I take that back. I think you guys haven’t graduated from kindergarten yet.” But I hadn’t removed my hand from the dog tags, and Noah noticed.



“We need Grace,” Lana yelled, running over to my corner where I sat, virtually unmoving, since Noah had set me here hours ago. I hadn’t needed to move. One or more of the Woodland boys were always with me, filling my cup and making sure I was entertained. Finn and I engaged in thumb wars. Fortunately, Adam was doing my Jell-O shots when I lost, because I lost a lot. Adam was well on his way to being trashed—if he hadn’t already arrived at his destination.

He had gotten his cast off and was weaving a path from the kitchen to the great room, alternately singing, dancing, and drinking feverishly. I could see why he was in a band. He was a natural performer. His ease with having every eye on him and his charisma that spread like a netting over the room were apparent forty feet away. I could easily envision him on stage in front of a stadium full of screaming fans.

Mal was completely different, more like Noah. They were both quiet and watchful. Finn was the clown, and I wondered, the more time I spent with him, if his funny man routine wasn’t a little too forced. Bo was even joking with me, even if he kept a cautious eye out for Noah. But I liked them all. These five thoughtful, handsome guys who all took turns taking care of me, making sure I was having a good time.

Lana was out of breath when she reached me, as if she had been running a mile rather than the space of a room. “Come on and do the Single Ladies dance with us. We need another body.” Lana had learned a number of dance routines at her camp. Dancing, she was told, was a good way to keep her body in shape in a healthy way. She forced these routines on me after she returned home. I hadn’t the heart to resist her, and frankly they came in handy when we killed at Dance, Dance Revolution, which was about the only video game either of us were adept at. But I didn’t want to dance in front of the crowd here.