2. Chapter 2

At four forty-five, Macy, Chloe, and I are rushing out the door and climbing into the Uber Chloe ordered. All three of us are dressed in ripped jeans, some kind of casual top, and flip-flops as we make the drive to The Eagles' Nest. Macy and I have convinced Chloe to put down her book and join us. Chloe is our third roommate and a Texas native. Where Macy and I are tall, Chloe has a petite build. She might not be the tallest, but her southern attitude makes up for her height. Both Chloe and Macy enjoy a night out to party, and both know their limits, while I haven't discovered mine yet. My motto is to live fast, and theirs definitely isn't.

Crammed in the middle, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket.

"OMG, B, please tell me that was your phone and not vibrating panties," Chloe says.

The Uber driver's eyes bounce up to the rearview mirror. His eyes are as wide as saucers as they make contact with mine. Giving the driver a wink, I pull out my phone and wave it around.

"I wear vibrating panties one time, and you never let me live it down," I reply, and check my messages.

Reading the message from Quinton, I quickly thumb out a reply.

"She's not going to let you live it down because we were in the middle of a group study session, and your ass was vibrating. The whole room knew what was going on." Macy laughs.

"Whatever. You bitches are just jealous with your vanilla sex life."

We arrive in front of The Eagles' Nest, and I'm all but pushing Chloe out of the back door. I need a beer, and I need to move my body. The Eagles' Nest is having my favorite alternative cover band Ecstasy and I'm so ready to dance this first week away.

College is fun. It's an absolute blast. If I could study partying, I totally would. Classes aren't my thing. It's not that I'm not smart, because I am. I just think it's ridiculous. All of this money is spent sitting through hours and hours of boring lectures. But isn't real-life experience so much more valuable? I think so. Hands-on experience makes a person better, not studying the influential people who created parts of psychology.

In typical Friday night fashion, the bar is packed. There's a line outside the doors to get in. The bouncer recognizes me and nods his head for us to enter. I could seriously kiss Q for having his connections to get us a reserved table.

Walking through the front doors, I take in my favorite bar on campus. It's nothing spectacular, but it feels like home. The bar is made up of worn, tiled flooring and wood-paneled walls. TVs hang everywhere, high-top tables are scattered around the bar, and vinyl booths line the perimeter. Straight ahead of the front doors is a large L-shaped bar. Following the long part of the bar is the stage, and next to the stage is a separate room with multiple glass doors that lead to a private room with large tables, a pool table, and dart boards.

Pushing through the standing bodies, the girls and I make our way to the first set of double doors that lead to the private room. There are twenty or so people already congregated in the room. Q spots me before I see him. He stands up and waves us over and points to the pitcher and full glass he has waiting for me.

"Hey, beautiful ladies," he greets us, pulling us all in for a hug. "We've got pitchers coming nonstop, and I ordered a spicy marg for you, Macy."

"You're the best, Q," Chloe and Macy say at the same time.

Over the next hour, pitchers are continuously brought to the table, and baskets and baskets of wings are placed around us. Conversations are flowing, laughter rattles the walls, and the first week of school is forgotten. Before I know it, I hear the opening chords to The White Stripes' "Icky Thump." My foot starts tapping, my head starts moving, and I'm glancing out the doors toward the stage.

Standing up, I grab the pitcher of beer, fill up my cup, and glance around at my friends.

"Well, friends, it's that time."

Will Davis, a senior safety on the football team, makes eye contact with me and jerks his head toward the stage. I don't respond, just give a smirk and a wink before turning and making my way to the dance floor.

Will's hot. He's your typical boy next door with light-brown hair that he keeps cut tight on the sides and longer on top and amber eyes with flecks of gold that are so stunning you just want to get lost in them. At a few inches over six feet tall with trim muscles, his tight clothes always seem to show off how built he is. And I've had the luxury of counting his eight-pack abs…with my tongue. While Will is every girl's dream, his personality isn't always the greatest. But I don't hook up with Will because of his personality.

Will and I have had many shared moments together over the last year. He's a repeat hook-up since he actually knows what the hell he's doing and can get me off more than once. And it looks like tonight might be another one of those moments.

This is my third year at Central Texas, and Ecstasy has been playing for as long as I've been attending. I try to make it my mission to attend their shows. Now, I wouldn't call myself a groupie, but if the guitarist wanted to strum something other than his guitar, I wouldn't tell him no.

I stand there, letting the music move me. My hips start moving to the beat, the lyrics are flowing from my mouth, and I feel Will Davis slide in behind me. His hands skim up my thighs before settling on my hips, pulling me into his hard body. There will never be a time that I willingly pass up a hot, hard body pressed up against me, especially if he knows how to use his physique inside the bedroom.

Sweat drips down my body after dancing nonstop for the past hour and a half. Will has been keeping my beer full, and I'm well on my way to being drunk. Ecstasy takes their only twenty-minute break to head out back and smoke. The guitarist makes eye contact with me and jerks his head to follow.

"Did he just tell you to follow him?" Will asks over the house music.

"Yeah, I think he did," I answer, watching the guitarist slide off stage and head our way.

The guitarist stops right in front of us and leans in toward me. I feel Will tense behind me as the guitarist shouts in my ear. "Hey, I've noticed you before at other shows."

Leaning toward him, I shout back, "Hell yeah. I'm a huge fan!"

The guitarist grins, looking me up and down. "Come out back for a smoke?"

I nod my head yes at the same time that Will grips my hips.

"I'll be back," I tell Will.

"Seriously, B?" he asks, jealousy skating across his face.

"Green isn't your color, Will," I say, patting him on the arm. I follow the guitarist down the hallway that leads out back for a smoke.

He opens the back door for me. I step outside into the stifling Texas air and follow behind the guitarist while he leads us to the van where the other members are toking up.

"Yo, guys, this is—" The guitarist pauses his introductions, looking over at me, realizing we haven't exchanged names yet.

"Brynn," I supply, introducing myself.

"Guys, this is Brynn. Brynn, these are the guys—Neal, Maddox, Bear—and I'm Max."

The guys all give me a nod, checking me out. Most girls would be uncomfortable in a dark alley with four guys in an alternative band, but not me. There's not much that makes me uncomfortable.

Bear takes a drag on the joint he's holding, blowing out the smoke, and handing it over to me. I nod my head and place the joint between my fingers, bringing it to my lips, for a long inhale. Breathing in the smoke, I hold it. The weed, mixed with the multiple beers, makes the buzz rush straight to my head.

"This is good shit," I say, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"Only the best," Max replies, taking the joint from my hand.

We stand there, passing the joint back and forth, shooting the shit for who knows how long. The back door bangs open.

"Are you guys coming back to play?" a balding man asks the band.

"Hold your fuckin' horses," Maddox shouts back.

Bear finishes off the joint before we all head back in. Max steps in line beside me before moving aside to let me enter first. Once we are inside, he looks me up and down one last time.

"See ya around, Brynn," he says, flashing me a panty-dropping smile and hitting me with a wink before jogging back on stage.

What the hell just happened?

I'm standing there stunned with a smile on my face. Slipping my poker face back on, I follow the hallway back to the bar. The dance floor is packed, and I scan the room for a familiar face. Will is leaning against the bar, watching the hallway with a beer in his hand. Making my way over to him, I slide my body up against his, taking the beer out of his hand, and downing half of it. He wraps his arm around me, settling his hand in my back pocket.

"Have fun?" he asks.

Most men wouldn't be willing to share their girl, but I have a strong feeling Will wouldn't be one of those men. At least, he's always given the vibe he wouldn't mind sharing, as long as he's involved. But tonight, his actions are saying the opposite.

Slipping my arm around his neck, I pull his face to mine, letting our lips touch. Our kiss turns heated, and I open my mouth for him. He accepts the invitation. Before things get too out of hand, I pull back.

Smirking at him, I finally answer his question. "Not as much fun as we're about to have," I purr.

Dragging me back to the side room where everyone is, he can't keep his hands off me. His body is pressed against me, hands skimming the exposed skin above my jeans.

Chloe sees me first. She takes one look at my appearance and shakes her head with a knowing grin on her face.

"You two getting out of here?"

"I'm going to his place," I answer. "Just letting you know."

"Be safe," she replies.

And with that, Will and I make our way to the exit and back to his place.