4

Piper

Apology Unaccepted Because They Ruin Parties

Fifteen minutes before midnight, I paced my bedroom in a weird mixture of anxiety, regret, frustration, and the deepest kind of nausea.

For the upcoming RA trip, I'd been tasked to teach a class to other resident assistants. I tried reciting my lines again. Which was working out about as well as expected with Adam's party next door.

Ten minutes ago, they cranked up the stereo again. Five minutes ago, I started getting noise complaints in my new group chat for the floor.

goalkeep99: can you do something about the noise ?

thedaisywilson: I have a test tomorrow

username6777: ra!!! marrs manwhore won't shut up!

All I wanted to do was to crawl back into bed. And that clearly wasn't an option - not with Adam trying to break through the sound barrier and everybody's patience.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered.

Walking out, my turtle slippers almost slid on the linoleum and I righted myself against Adam's door, fumbling for the handle. The door itself was completely bare. No door decoration to be seen. Adam must've thrown it in the trash.

All that time I'd spent, piecing them together.

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

I narrowed my eyes. "Everybody knows who lives here anyway."

Frustration had to be held back though. Adam and I were going to be living next to each other, literally across the tiny space in the hall, for the entire semester.

Yes, Adam deserved getting hit in the face with a pie.

No, I shouldn't have stooped that low.

"Second chances." I sighed, building up the courage to shut down a college party. "Everybody deserves a second chance."

I knocked twice on the door. No one answered.

"Adam?" I tried, like he could've heard me over the ear-splitting music.

I didn't need to bother. The door was unlocked. I pushed it open just a little and music flooded the hallway. I felt like Dorothy, walking into Oz, except I was Dorothy, walking into the most insane college party of all time.

Oh my god .

Everyone danced in the middle of the room, the walls shook, and shots were poured like Prohibition was starting next week. Tables were crammed in the corner with spilled food, and the strong smell of booze made me dizzy. Every time the bass dropped, I was worried we'd crack through the floor.

I'd been so grateful for the size of the dorms at Roman Villa until I realized just how many people could be crammed into a room.

Shuffling across the floor, I gazed up at him . The man of the hour.

Adam hoisted himself on the kitchen counter that separated the living room and the kitchen, gripping a champagne bottle, as if that was a good decision to make. The party had been going on for hours, but you wouldn't know that by looking at him. Freshly showered, clean, and ready for the night to keep going, the button-up barely covered his muscles.

Wow, is he…

…something that needed to be stopped .

Adam held the bottle by the neck and shook it for everybody to see. The room quieted a little and his grin widened. "We won the motherfucking BIRCHWOOD BOWL! "

Everyone screamed in unison and the beat dropped at the same time. The crowd was a living, moving thing, jumping and dancing together. I squeezed between sweaty bodies, trying to make my way to the kitchen. Someone was right behind me, someone was right in front of me, and I was elbowed deeper into the room.

"The fucking Birchwood Bowl!" Adam belted again, and the cork popped. " We're getting sloshed tonight! "

Champagne doused everybody, and I stood there, stunned.

Looking around, I could spot fifty RA violations. Not to mention, it was almost midnight. This was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

"Adam!" a girl yelled out.

My eyes flickered to her and I faltered on my path to Adam. She was easily one of the prettiest girls in the room, with a beige dress that showed off her thighs and a perfect window to her breasts. And she only had eyes for Adam, yanking on his pant leg.

That was good, right? If Adam had a distraction, it'd be easier to shut down the party.

But it didn't change how much I fidgeted with my pajamas.

Adam stepped down from the kitchen counter and grimaced when he spotted her. "Tracy, you have to get out of here."

"What?" She blinked at him. "We're hanging out tonight."

"No, we're not."

"You said we were hanging out tonight."

"Yeah." He placed the champagne bottle back on the counter. "Plans change."

Tracy scoffed. "You better be joking, Marrs Manwhore . You said after the Birchwood Bowl and—and I bought underwear for this! It wasn't cheap! "

"Goddammit, I didn't ask you to buy anything." Adam dug out his wallet and took out a fistful of bills, tossing them at her without another look. "Here. I'm sure you won't have a problem finding new dick. Happy hunting."

"Jackass," Tracy spit out and elbowed her way through the crowd, throwing her middle finger back at him.

I stood there, motionless.

The disinterested way he threw money at her…seriously, what was his problem? It baffled me.

Adam's eyes flickered over and caught mine like a steel trap. A huge grin lifted on his face before he glanced down at my pajamas. At first, embarrassment hit me. I'd gotten the clothes from the aquarium back home in Oklahoma. They clearly weren't worn for the party. But the way the linebacker stared at me…

I should've worn a bra.

With a deep blush, I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Piper!" He pushed through the crowd. "I had to put out the bat signal for you, didn't I?"

"The…bat signal?"

"You came just in time. The host needs to be entertained."

For a moment, I stared at him in complete disbelief. Was Adam saying what I thought he was saying? "And by bat signal, you mean…?"

"You are fantastic at ignoring someone. Olympic medal worthy." Adam's grin widened and he cut the distance between us. His entire life was spent popping other people's personal bubbles without a care in the world. "I knew I had to get you in here somehow."

"Adam, you threw this party for me to shut down? "

"Do you want a drink?" He thumbed towards the kitchen. "I make a great margarita. Salt rim and everything. Come on, I'll show you how to make one."

I had to follow after him. "Adam—"

"What about half salt, half sugar rim? Best of both worlds."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "You need to shut this party down. And…I'm here to apologize."

"Apologize? For the hair conditioning?"

He meant the pie. "Um, yes. You're my resident. That was crossing a line, and if we're going to be living next to each other, I'd like for the two of us—"

"Did your boss give you a time-out over it?"

I'd been expecting a punishment for smashing a slice of pie in his face, but the opposite happened. Most of the other RAs dropped me a thank you. Some of them even tried to high-five me. The leader of RV had burst into laughter and said Adam had it coming to him.

Where every other resident had a spot on a list, the Marrs Manwhore had an entire folder dedicated to his pranks, antics, and the many resident assistants that had given up trying to leash him.

He wasn't exactly liked by my coworkers.

"I mean—we talked about it—but that's not why I'm here—"

"Why are you really here?" Adam turned around at the kitchen counter and I almost bumped into him. He tilted his head back, pleased. "Can't stay away?"

That familiar flicker of irritation bit me. "Not everybody worships the ground you walk on."

"You don't want to get on your knees for me?"

"No," I said quickly. Too quickly .

"Don't lie to me, Piper."

"First of all, I don't even like lying."

"You sure about that?" His voice was soft. "You're pretty good at lying to yourself."

His eyes searched my face, hungry. Can he hear my heart beating? It drowned out every other noise for me. My hand reached to touch the counter, just to hold on to something real. It was too easy to get lost in those eyes of his.

I had to look away. "Adam, I have to get up early tomorrow."

"You know what helps with sleeping problems? A great margarita."

This is going off the rails.

Biting my lip, I took another look around the room. If there was any place I didn't want to be caught, it was here. I was suddenly aware of every camera and phone nearby, filming one of Adam Russell's infamous college parties and after the Birchwood Bowl too.

Just what I need. Another viral photo .

"Adam." I straightened my back. "I don't want a drink."

He held up the margarita mixture and set it back down. "Non-alcoholic? No worries. Arnold Palmer? Shirley Temple? Roy Rogers?" He turned back to his fridge. "I've got the cherries here somewhere."

"No—you have to stop this party."

"That's a good one."

"I'm serious. It's almost midnight. Quiet hours begin now ."

"Except for school-run organizations. They're allowed an extra hour beyond quiet time." He set a glass down on the counter. "Like Adam Russell's Grand-Starters."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "Like what? "

"An after-school program to enhance a student's social and community health, to tie the campus together—"

"You made up a fake organization?" I demanded. " To party more?! "

Laughter burst out of him, easy and husky. "You wouldn't believe how many forms I had to sign."

There was no possible way he was telling the truth. Even though…he was right. School organizations could have an hour after quiet times to conduct events. He wouldn't seriously make an entirely fake organization just to throw more stupid parties, would he?

Yes. He'd absolutely do that.

"I don't care," I decided. "Throw everybody out."

"Have you got something more exciting than the party? Reconsidering your policy against football players?"

I flushed. "No."

"Then the party stays on." He shrugged, rifling through his cabinets. "See how easy that was?"

"I'm not messing around with you."

"I wish you would."

Blinking at him, I decided I couldn't throw things at him or hit him again with a pie. This would be settled diplomatically. I would be the bigger person, even if I had to kick his knees to do it. "End the party. Now . Or—"

"Or what? You punish me? I think of the two of us, you'd look better tied up."

That was enough. I'd had enough of blushing and stumbling over my words because of him. The worst part was, he knew it. Adam practically oozed with self-satisfaction. It drove me crazy.

"Admit you're attracted to me, and I'll stop the party," he promised.

" What? " I shook my head and placed my hands on the counter. "Stop this party or I'll call your coach ."

The effect was immediate. Adam stopped making the drink for me and hesitated, holding the glass over the sink. His grin slipped to half a grin, and with slow, careful movements, he set everything back on the counter.

His eyes met mine. His voice was soft. "You want me to stop the party?"

" Yes. "

"Okay, ice princess. Do you want to see a magic trick?"

The way he said that mocking term of endearment made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I tried to shrug, to match his energy.

"I want to see the party wrapped up, Adam. That's it. I want the noise complaints to stop, and I want to go to sleep."

"I'm going to make everyone in here disappear, five minutes or less." He held up his hand and counted down his fingers. "Are you ready?"

I hesitated.

Why do I have a bad feeling about this?

Adam walked right past me, and before I could tell heads or tails from anything, I could feel his hand reaching back to take me by the shoulder.

Oh.

My whole body stiffened at the touch, and I stumbled to keep up with him. He swiped something off a bookcase and turned around, right in the middle of the room.

"Can I get everybody's attention?" Adam shouted. The party quieted instantly.

Here's a thing about me. If you've heard of stage fright, I've got two or three times that. Stage terror. Stage horror. Stage agony. It was my semester goal to get over it, but I hadn't even gotten to step one - teaching a workshop at the RA conference.

With all of those eyes peering from around the room, I melted into myself, a pool of anxious Jello, unable to unclench my jaw long enough to speak. Not good. Danger!

Abort! Abort!

Adam got down on one knee in front of me, that beautiful, enormously annoying man, and flashed a gas station ring in his hand. I stared at it, completely frozen. My heart leaped to my throat.

"Piper Fontaine, will you marry me?"