CHAPTER IO3
**ZION**
Alright, guys, you've got your picks ready?" Clark's voice slices through the thumping music, his words laced with eager anticipation. He tosses a stack of paper squares and pens onto the table, placing an old hat in the centre.
"Now the rules: write down the names of girls who are actually at the party. And remember, they've got to be at least somewhat innocent, not the usual sluts."
Winning might only get you bragging rights, but it still stings to walk away empty-handed.
I take a long swig from my beer, the cold liquid barely cooling the heat simmering in my chest.
"Enough with the fucking reminders, Clark," I grumble, my tone edged with irritation, but he just grins and down his drink, unfazed.
I ignore the chatter around me and scribble down the first three names that come to mind-girls who've already caught my eye tonight.
With a flick of my wrist, I toss the slips into the hat, watching as Ronald, Carl, and Clark do the same.
But Harry just sits there, glaring at everyone like he'd rather be anywhere else.
No clue what's got him in such a mood, but I bet Winter's behind it. She's probably been whispering more lies about me, turning him against me. I'll need to set her straight soon enough.
As the others finish writing, I glance around the table. The hat's quickly filling up with the names of girls who have no idea what's coming.
Clark's grin widens as the last name drops into the hat.
"Alright, let's go over the rules again. Virgins score you more points, so if they give up their virginity tonight, you are one lucky guy. Anything less than sealing the deal doesn't count. The winner gets to call the shots at the next football game and make the rest of us do whatever he wants. But here's the you have only tonight to get in her pants, and by the end of the night, you've got to tell her it was the most boring sex you've ever had. If you can't do it or chicken out, you lose and forfeit the game."
Ronald rolls his eyes, snorting.
"Yeah, yeah, we get it, Captain Obvious," he mutters, but there's a flicker of acknowledgement in his voice. A reminder never hurts, especially when the stakes are this high.
**WINTER**
**AN HOUR BEFORE...**
"Claire, I really don't think this is a good idea," I protest, frustration lacing my voice as I watch her nonchalantly shrug her shoulders.
"You know the kind of day I had at college. I’m literally the last person anyone wants to see at a party right now."
Claire waves off my concerns like they’re nothing.
"No excuses. You're coming with me, and don't worry. I’m not letting you out of my sight. You and I both know that if you get half a chance, you’ll bail on tonight, and I’m not about to let that happen."
I bite my lip, knowing she's right. "Maybe."
Claire raises an eyebrow at me, clearly unimpressed.
"Okay, fine. Probably," I admit with a small, defeated sigh.
Her expression softens as she grins.
"See? You need to let your hair down for once, Winter. Tonight is about having fun. For just a few hours, you can let go of all the drama and just be you—the twenty-year-old transfer student who deserves to experience college life, remember? Get drunk, have some fun... maybe even share a kiss or two," she adds with a playful wink, her eyes sparkling.
The thought of what she's proposing does sound tempting—at least the fun and drinking part. The whole "kissing someone" idea, though? Not so much. I’m in no mood for that.
"Yeah, well, what about Zion?" I ask, my voice dropping as the familiar dread creeps in. His name alone is enough to bring the weight of the day crashing back down on me.
Claire barely glances up from her phone. "What about him?"
"Really? You're serious?" I huff, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "You know he’s going to be there, Claire. And you know he’ll go out of his way to ruin my night. Not to mention his personal fan club—the second I walk in, they'll have it out for me."
Claire’s eyes narrow, her expression turning firm. "Let him try. He doesn’t get to control you or decide how you live your life. You're not the type to hide or let anyone push you around. You're stronger than that."
I let out a long sigh, feeling my resolve weaken. She's right, as usual. Why should I let him dictate how I live my life? Why am I still letting him have that kind of power over me?
"Okay. Fine," I say, nodding as a sense of rebellion stirs inside me.
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