Page 58 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

As we enter the house, we step right into the living room, the beat of heavy bass thumping against the soles of my feet. This is apparently the dance hall. Through the throng of costumes, I see two huge speakers flanking a bay window.

I stiffen as I scan the room, not recognizing anyone here. It’s not surprising if this is an Econ student’s place. Besides my roommates, I don’t know a lot of people who aren’t chemistry majors.

“Let’s get a drink,” Jackie practically shouts in my ear, and I eagerly nod.

Halfway down the hall, a door opens to reveal a clam-baked office. Smoke pours through the doorway, making me cough. I’ll stay out of there. Passing the mudroom, we get a glimpse of a beer pong tournament happening in the garage. That could be fun later, though.

When we finally reach the kitchen, we find the holy grail of self-serve drinks. Half of the counter is stacked with every kind of hard alcohol one could ever want, and the other half has all the mixers. There are also three coolers on the floor. One is labeled “beer,” one is labeled “water,” and the last is labeled “other.”

My eyebrows scrunch as I wonder what that means. Before I can investigate, Lisa claps a guy in a vampire costume on the back. When he spins around, his face lights up as he wraps his arms around her waist and picks her up. He staggers back a bit, but doesn’t fall down.

“You made it!” he shouts, setting her back on the floor.

Lisa adjusts her construction worker shorts. “Of course I did! Thanks for the invite.” She turns to motion to the three of us. “These are my friends.”

The guy shakes all of our hands. “Hi, I’m Brent.”

We exchange pleasantries, and Brent offers to mix us all drinks, which we happily accept. Soon, Lisa falls deep into conversation with him while Jackie, Hannah, and I watch from the sidelines. He seems like a nice guy, and certainly has an eye for her. She’s never mentioned him before, but she’s got a little more pep in her attitude while talking to him.

An acute sense of dismay settles in my chest as I watch them. It would be nice to have a guy of my own to share that sort of thing with. The closest I’ve got is arguing and bickering with Sam.

Sam…

God, I wish he wasn’t such an ass. Three and half months ago, I would have begged to have him by my side, but now he’s just a thorn in it. He pokes at me, sharp and irritating.

I sip my surprisingly delicious drink.

Unfortunately, Sam being the most aggravating person on the planet doesn’t negate the fact that he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever met. Those springy curls that frame his face so perfectly. His strong jaw line. Ugh?and his beautiful brown eyes. I hate that I love the way they look when he wears his glasses.

A longing builds within me, threatening to become a heated desire, so I gulp down the rest of my drink to douse the flames. I motion to Jackie and Hannah that I’m going to refill, and head to the bar. I stop dead in my tracks before I get there.

A cowboy with dark curls peeking from under his hat steps into the kitchen. My breath hitches as I anticipate seeing Sam dressed in chaps, but when he lifts his head, disappointment hits me hard.

It’s not him.

I shake my head. Good. I don’t want to see him.

After pouring myself a more-rum-than-Coke, I rejoin my friends. I find Lisa still in the throes of conversation with Brent while Jackie and Hannah stand to the side, looking bored beyond belief.

“Want to go play pong?” I ask as I make a swoosh gesture with my arm.

Their heads turn between me and Lisa before nodding. “Please,” they whine in unison.

With light giggles, Jackie, Hannah, and I scoot off to the garage. As we walk through the mudroom, a couple of inmates are on their way inside. I turn sideways, pressing my back to the wall to allow space for them to pass.

“I wave my rights, officer,” one of them says, his voice low and confident. Almost familiar.

I whip my head up, squinting in the dim light. “What?”

“Please, take me away,” he begs, and holds his hands out like he wants to be cuffed.

“Dude, don’t be creepy,” his friend says. “Sorry, ladies.” He shoves the other inmate forward, and they leave the mudroom, laughing. As they step into the well-lit hallway, I get a better look at the guy.

He’s not Sam.

Why does that matter? Was I expecting it to be?

I frown. Both at the disappointment beginning to overwhelm me, and the fact that I shouldn’t be disappointed in the first place. The last thing I need is Sam showing up to ruin my night.

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