I turn raised brows on my friends. “Maybe him, you think?”

A bikini-clad girl comes trotting out to bring up the rear, drink in hand. She teeters on her heels, waving her arms to get balance when she comes to a stop by the prone foam-covered form on the lawn. She crouches and leans into his ear, yelling, “Are you okaaayyyy?”

He doesn’t move.

Bypassing the pair, Hayden leads us inside, through hordes of partygoers, until we arrive in the backyard where a keg stand is set up in the corner. Strings of green-colored lights adorn the fence line like a parsley garnish, and plastic blow-up palm trees decorate the lawn. An inflatable slide takes pride of place in the center. I watch a guy barrel down it face first, smacking into a pile of shrieking girls huddled in the little pool at the bottom.

Leah hands me a Solo cup of beer, and I take it, knowing I’ll be sitting on it all night. I don’t doubt it’s cheap, nasty stuff that will leave me disgustingly bloated. I take a small sip, grimace, and a mechanical surfboard set up opposite the inflatable slide catches my attention. It’s nestled in a bed of sand and being ridden by a beefy, shirtless guy dressed in a Baywatch lifeguard outfit. In one hand he holds a cup of beer, his arm outstretched so it doesn’t spill.

The crowd surrounding him chants, “Hassel-hoff! Hassel-hoff!”

He’s doing really well until he gets shoved off by a guy wearing a yellow grass skirt and a coconut bra. Everyone cheers when Hasselhoff staggers and falls over, his beer tipping over his face and chest.

“Really?” I rip the sunglasses from my face so Leah can get the full brunt of my glare. “This is your idea of good night out?”

Leah waves a hand at both the surfboard and the wasted Hasselhoff, who has apparently decided stripping is preferable to wearing beer-soaked shorts. The crowd chants anew at his antics.

“What? You don’t want a turn?”

“Does it make me a killjoy if I say hell no? Because I’ll happily wear that tag.”

Leah laughs and after jamming the sunglasses back on my face, she grabs hold of my arm. “Come on. There’s dancing in the basement.”

We abandon Hayden to his circle of friends, and I’m led back inside the house and down a narrow set of stairs. It’s hard to see, even more so with the dark lenses, so I traverse them carefully, one hand on the railing and the other holding my drink.

We reach the basement and it’s overflowing with bodies, dark corners, and flashing multi-colored lights. “Happy Little Pill” by Troye Sivan plays, and hips thrust to the deep, sensual beat, hands sliding over exposed skin, tongues entwined as people make out on the dance floor.

“Chug your beer so we can dance,” Leah orders from beside me where we stand on the fringes.

“No, I’m good. I can hold it and dance at the same time.”

“Just do it. I don’t want you sloshing it all over my new shirt while you crack out your Sprinkler move.”

“I’m a professional athlete,” I snap, highly offended because I did it one time. One time! And only because Hayden pretended he’d never heard of it. Jerk. “I know how to bust a move without losing control.”

“Of course you do,” Leah says, her tone soothing as if I’m an enraged beast.

I chug the damn beer.

Her grin is smug.

We’re on the dance floor for mere moments when two hands plant themselves on my hips from behind. I tense and spin around, my eyes landing on a flirty grin and deep dimples.

“We meet again,” Jaxon says.

He’s like a bad, sexy penny, popping up all over campus. “So it seems.”

“Cool outfit, Jordan. Very original.”

“Are you teasing me?”

Jaxon’s hazel eyes light up and his fingers dig in, pulling me close until there’s no space between us. “That depends. Do you like being teased?”

“Only if it’s done right.”

Those pretty eyes of his slide down to my mouth. I shouldn’t do it, but I bite down on my bottom lip, running my teeth over it until it’s a little red and swollen. His gaze heats and a tinge of color hits his cheeks. He groans and I’m genuinely surprised I’ve managed to get to him.

“And you’re a master.”

I laugh because surely he’s joking.

Jaxon spins me around, making me move with him to the music. I look over his shoulder for Leah. The crowd of dancing bodies have swallowed her, but I spy Hayden with his back to me. He’s now wearing her yellow lei and sunglasses. His arms are wrapped tight around a body wearing a strawberry shirt, so I know she’s okay.

“I didn’t see you at the soccer match,” I say, my eyes returning to Jaxon.

His lips curve with pleasure. “You looked for me?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“How can you maybe look for someone?”

“I just happened to notice you weren’t there.”

The song ends but Jaxon doesn’t stop dancing. He keeps hold of me until another one starts. “Did you win?” he asks.

“Of course.”

Two girls try cutting in on our dance over the next two songs, the last one moving off with a glare aimed my way. “You should’ve danced with her,” I tell him, my eyes following the girl as she stalks away.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know what you want, Jaxon,” I say in all seriousness and lift the sunglasses from my eyes to rest them on my head, “but I’m not looking for anything with anyone, so you shouldn’t waste your time with me.”

Jaxon stops dancing and I still along with him when he stares down at me, a gleam hitting his hazel eyes. “Is that a challenge?”

“No!” I choke out, overwhelmed by his persistence.

“I’m going to the little girls’ room,” Leah yells in my ear from behind.

I turn my head. Hayden has hold of her hand, his jaw tight and his eyes on fire. Oh seriously? They’re going to do the nasty here? She glances between Jaxon and I uncertainly.

“You uh … okay?”

“I’ll look after her,” Jaxon replies without taking his eyes from mine.

“See that you do,” she says before they disappear up the stairs.

Jaxon slides his hands down and over the curve of my ass.

“Hey!” My reaction is reflexive. I give him a little shove and take a step back. As if waiting for just such a moment, another girl is on him, determination her expression of choice. Jaxon lets out an audible growl when she steps between us.

“What do you want, Lindsay?” he asks.

With Jaxon distracted, I make my escape, my intent to find another drink and see if Paige and Becker are here. Turning, I smack into a hard chest. It’s attached to two brawny arms holding shot glasses of clear liquid. They rise quickly to avoid spillage.

“Sorry, I—” My apology dies quickly when I look up into the face of Kyle Davis. My pulse skyrockets.

His gaze rakes me over slow and deliberate, his eyes peeling away my dress, leaving me exposed and breathless.

Just when I’m starting to turn blue from the oxygen he’s sucked from the room, he leans in close, lips brushing my ear, and says, “You wore the fuck me dress.”

My toes curl in my pretty gold sandals. “The fuck me dress?” I repeat dumbly, my voice low and embarrassingly breathy. He was paying attention to my phone conversation with Leah.

“The very one.” He pulls back, his height and wide shoulders overpowering the entire basement. I tip my head back to meet his eyes. They’re impish, but they’re also hungry, and it sets off an ache between my legs that throbs to the beat of the music. “You wear it well.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m unsettled and suddenly parched, so I steal one of the shot glasses that rests in his hand. I tip it down my throat, the burn of tequila making my eyes tear up.

His nostrils flare. “What did I say about taking drinks from people you don’t trust?”

The dark tone of his voice has me reaching for the second shot. He sounds like my brother, but I definitely don’t think of him that way. I down it too, trying not to choke.