What I Should Have Done ✓

Chapter 6

'Ross Tower, suite A.' I triple-checked John's message to make sure that I had the right suite number. Three minutes had passed since I had arrived and stopped in the hallway. It was eerily quiet for a Saturday night at a student dorm. Was the party still on? Or maybe I was early? But he had said 9 pm, and the hands on my watch showed 9:17 pm.

Taking a deep breath, I lifted my hand and rapped on the door. Footsteps moved inside and a second later, the door swung open and a lazy mob of dark curls attached to a tan face with radiant green eyes and a soft jaw appeared in the doorway.

"Well, hello there." The guy grinned, his forearm leaning against the doorframe, and gave me a quick once-over. My feet shuffled in their place and I brushed a lock of blond hair behind my ear. Was his gaze good-natured? He was hot, but I wasn't interested.

Suddenly I feared my black skater skirt that I still wore from earlier was too short and my burgundy crop top showed both too much stomach and cleavage—and immediately scolded myself for the thought. I had the right to wear what I wanted, short clothes didn't mean I was inviting visual catcalling.

"Hi, I'm—" The voice of a mouse would have sounded more resolute than my own at this moment. I cleared my throat and projected confidence I did not have. "Hi, I'm Grace. John invited me."

"I'm sure he did." His grin didn't falter.

"Devin, what the fuck. Leave her alone." John's voice tolled from inside the apartment, getting closer until he was standing behind his friend.

In a quick motion, he swept Devin's arm off the doorframe and pushed past him to usher me inside. His palm lightly touched the small of my back. Zap. Holy shit, why am I being electrocuted? Was something wrong with me? I had hoped my nerves around him would settle in the presence of other people. What did it mean that they didn't?

Before I could overthink it, John spoke again. "Sorry, Grace. This is Devin, my blockheaded roommate—"

"—and best friend," the blockhead added.

Closing the door behind us all, John drew his eyebrows to his hairline and conveyed a silent message to the other man before relaxing a bit more. "And Devin, this is Grace, new friend from class and study buddy." Drawing his eyes to mine, he added: "Don't worry, he doesn't bite."

"Unless you want me to," Devin said and winked at me.

John raised his index finger. "Shut up, Dev. I'm serious. She doesn't know you."

Only when the blockhead raised his hands in surrender and mumbled a "yes, sir" did the tension in John's shoulders dissipate. Slowly working up a smile again, he turned toward me. "Come on in. A few people are already here."

Finally I lifted my eyes to look around. Directly in front of the door was a kitchenette with several 12-packs of Budweiser occupying the stove. I hid a smirk. Those two men didn't look like they cooked. In fact, they had probably had everything handed to them all their lives. Though who knew, maybe John would surprise me in that domain, too, like he already had several times.

Following him around the corner with Devin trailing behind us, we entered an open area with a heavy brown leather couch, matching loveseat and chair, a coffee table, and a large flatscreen TV. The standard college desk chairs were set up in addition, though more in anticipation of the guests yet to arrive. A couple occupied the loveseat, their hands intertwined. In the chair sat a tall, dark-haired athlete. As the three of us sank down onto the couch, John introduced me to the couple, Linh and Greg, and the other teammate, Aidan.

"Welcome to the uncontrollable madness that is a soccer party before 10 pm," greeted Aidan with a grin.

"Yeah, what a wild crowd. I triple-checked whether I had the right suite number, it was so quiet in here."