“She doesn’t look toxic to me,” Hunter drawls.

Naïve bastard. Luckily, I know better. Sabrina James is undeniably gorgeous, but I’d pour hot wax on my balls before I hooked up with her. Well, before I hooked up with her again.

Yup. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

Someone jostles me from behind, and I turn to find Tucker approaching. His black-and-silver jacket is soaking wet, and so is his hair.

“Je-sus. It’s coming down hard out there.” He does a full-body shake like a dog who’s just scampered out of a lake.

“Hey Fido, go dry off somewhere else,” I order as cold droplets splash my face and hit me in the eye.

Hunter doesn’t even notice that Tucker is dripping water all over our shoes. He’s too busy ogling Sabrina.

Tuck follows the freshman’s gaze. “Nice,” he remarks, then turns to grin at me. “I take it you already called dibs?”

I blanch. “Not a chance. That’s Sabrina, bro. She already busts my balls in class on a daily basis. I don’t need her busting them outside of school.”

Sabrina and I are both Poli Sci majors on the pre-law path, so we share way too many classes for my peace of mind. We both applied to Harvard Law too, which I’m not particularly happy about. The thought of spending two more years sitting in the same lecture halls as her makes suicide sound pretty appealing.

“Wait, that’s Sabrina?” Tucker says in surprise. “I see her around campus all the time, but I didn’t realize she’s the one you’re always bitching about.”

“One and the same.”

His southern drawl rears up. “Damn shame. She sure is fine to look at.”

“What’s the deal with you two?” Hunter pipes up. “She your ex?”

I recoil again. “Fuck no.”

“So I won’t be breaking the bro code if I make a move?”

“You want to make a move? Go nuts. But I’m warning you, that bitch will eat you alive.”

Sabrina’s head turns sharply toward us. She probably has some kind of internal radar that goes off every time someone calls her a bitch. I bet it goes off a lot.

As our gazes lock, she smirks at me, then flips up her middle finger before turning to talk to her friend.

Hunter groans. “Well, there goes that. She won’t give me the time of day now that she saw me with you. What’d you do to her, anyway?”

“Absolutely nothing,” I say darkly.

“Bullshit. A chick doesn’t murder a guy with her eyes like that unless he screwed up bad. Did you hook up with her?”

Tucker snorts. “What do you think, kid? I mean, look at her.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” I mutter.

My roommate cocks his head in challenge. “So you didn’t sleep with her?”

A sigh slides out. “No, I did. But it was a long time ago. I’m pretty sure hook-ups have expiration dates. Like after three years have gone by, it doesn’t count anymore.”

The guys laugh. “Let me guess,” Tucker says. “You didn’t call her afterward.”

“No,” I admit. “But in my defense, it’s hard to call a chick when one, she doesn’t give you her number, and two, when you don’t remember it happened.”

Hunter’s jaw falls open. “How could you not remember that?” He’s damn near salivating as he checks out Sabrina again.

“We were both wasted. Trust me, she didn’t remember much either.”

“So that’s why she hates you?” Hunter presses.

I wave a hand. “Naah. The beef started over something else. Which I’m not going to fucking talk about right now, because Jesus Christ, it’s Saturday night and we should be partying.”

Tucker chuckles. “I’m gonna grab a beer. You guys need a refill?”

“I’m good,” Hunter says.

As Tuck heads for the counter, I pull out my phone and check the time. It’s nine-thirty. I scroll through my contacts while Hunter starts talking hockey to me again. I think I still have Allie’s number from when she was planning Hannah’s birthday this spring. She’d sent about a hundred mass texts outlining every mundane detail of the party.

Yup, it’s still in my phone. I saved her contact info as Wellsy’s Blonde Friend. I should probably change that to Bondage Girl.

I type a quick message.

Me: U make it back to the dorm ok?

It’s a dumb question, because she left our place this morning, so of course she made it back. Still, I’m surprised when she answers right away.

Her: Yep. Here now.

Me: Shitty weather 2nite. Prolly good ur staying in.

She doesn’t respond to that. I stare at the screen in frustration, then wonder why I care. I’m the king of casual hook-ups. I rarely ever want a repeat performance after I’ve slept with a girl, and if there’s one girl I shouldn’t sleep with again, it’s Allie.

Not too many things in this world make it on my Scared Shitless list, but Garrett’s girlfriend is solidly positioned in the top three. Wellsy won’t be happy if she finds out I slept with her best friend, and if Wellsy’s not happy, Garrett’s not happy, which means I’ll have to deal with G tsking at me all disappointed-like. Logan will follow his lead, and then Grace will jump on the Dean-is-an-ass bandwagon, and the next thing I know, I’ll be taking shit from all directions. That’s reason enough not to go there, but my sexed-up body is being a stubborn asshole.

I want her again.

One more time wouldn’t hurt, right? Shit, or maybe twice? I’m not entirely sure how many times it will take to get her out of my system. All I know is that every time I think about her, my dick gets impossibly hard.

Beside me, Hunter has transferred his attention to a group of girls at a nearby table, and I can’t help but be proud when one measly nod from him causes the trio to saunter over to us. My boy’s got game.

“Which one of you is going to buy us a round?” one of them teases. She’s tall and blond and rocking a minidress that stops mid-thigh.

As Hunter opens his mouth to respond, all the lights in the bar flicker ominously.

I frown and glance over at Tucker, who’s just rejoined the group. “Is it the Apocalypse out there or something?”

“It’s coming down pretty hard,” he admits.