to love a liar

new faces . . . and old ones

Everyone followed suit and made their way out of the stadium before others began barging out. You, Connie, and Sasha got in her car together, planning on getting to the afterparty right after a quick pitstop at some fast-food restaurant.

After you three got well deserved meals, you finally headed towards where the party was, a frat house right on the edge of the university's vicinity.

"Good thing we ate," Connie said as you three walked in. "We were going to really be regretting it later if we didn't."

You were feeling the effects of a food coma so you rubbed your stomach, "If you find me passed out somewhere, I'm probably just sleeping."

"Wimp," Sasha crooned in your ear. "I seriously need to take you to an all-you-can-eat sushi bar. You wouldn't survive five minutes."

Connie growled, "Maybe because we aren't built like bears."

"Maybe a cub," she judgmentally looked him up and down.

They began to bicker childishly while you took in the house. Well, it was a frat house, that was for sure. With the dozens of barely clothed girls and guys strung along the place holding red Solo cups, it would be quite difficult to label it anything other than a frat party. But this house was huge, it was actually a mansion.

"What group lives in this house?" you side-eyed your friends. "The football team?"

"No clue," Connie shrugged. "But it's huge, and I saw them bringing in a crap ton of kegs."

The overbearing aroma of weed stung your nose as you peered around. You noticed a crowd buzzing around someone in the living room. There was rap music playing in the back, color changing lights were lit in the entire house and it was throwing off your senses a bit.

You hadn't been to a party in a while, you almost forgot how hectic it could be. Inhaling sharply, you looked back to see you already lost Sasha and Connie.

I only walked about five steps, what the fuck.

Well, hopefully one of your other friends would come out of the woodwork. You walked further into the living room, seeing the kitchen not too far from it. A drink sounded nice just about now.

Surprisingly, the kitchen wasn't that crowded. Your eyes scanned over the different types of liquor that were set out, pulling your lip between your teeth as you thought of which to choose.

"That's a lot of concentration on figuring out what to drink," a voice intruded your thoughts.

Your eyes followed the sound to your right, seeing the handsome football player you had seen nail the final touchdown. Hazel . . . that was the color of his eyes. You knew they'd be flawless up close.

His hair was a lot neater now and he didn't look as sweaty—not that you minded the rugged sweat drenched look.

He had a kind look in his eyes and an amused smirk, probably still waiting for you to speak.

"What if I was just reading the labels and comparing the logos?" you raised your brows.

He raised his as well, trying to keep a sophisticated face, "Were you?"

"No."

He chuckled, reaching his hand out to grip the bottle of Jack Daniel's in front of you, "This usually does the trick. If not, try Hennessy."

"You sure know what you're doing," you grabbed a new cup. He gestured for you to hold it out so he could pour it for you. "Aren't you going to drink with me?"

His lip twitched upward, and his teeth showed faintly, "It'd be pretty stupid for me to turn down an offer from someone so gorgeous."

You grabbed a cup for him and held it out, "You say that to gorgeous guys too or did I get lucky?"