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her.
    “Yes! You are the absolute best,” she squealed, throwing her arms around my neck. “You won’t regret this, I swear!”
    “I know,” I agreed, smil ing as a thought occurred to me. “Cause you’re buying every round.”

Chapter Three
     
     
     
     
     
    Small Packages
     
     
    “What’s this guy’s name, anyway?” I yelled in Lexi’s ear, trying to be heard over the thumping bass.
    The band had yet to make an appearance, and Styx pulsed with the computerized sounds of electronic music. The dance floor was mobbed with bodies, and Lexi and I pushed our way through the crush to the bar. The bartender was swamped, racing back and forth to fill drink orders.
    “What did you say?” Lexi shouted back at me, smoothing her red bob and adjusting her cleavage before trying to flag down the bartender. Finally managing to grab his attention, she ordered two vodka-cranberries and slapped a ten down on the bar.
    “Keep the change,” she winked at him when he placed the drinks in front of her.
    Handing one to me, she led the way toward the front of the dance floor, as close as we could get to the stage. She turned when we reached our destination, holding her drink out to me in salute.
    “Cheers, bitch! To sophomore year,” she declared, playfully bumping her cup into mine.
    “And to fake IDs,” I agreed, laughing. I sipped my drink, refreshingly cold in the damp heat of the club, and looked up as the stage lights began to blink, signaling the band’s arrival.
    “Finally!” Lexi yelled. “Tyler’s the drummer, by the way.”
    Ah, so that was her mystery American Lit man’s name – and it explained our ridiculously close proximity to the stage.
    I tugged uncomfortably on the short black lace dress I’d let Lexi to talk me into wearing. I had to admit, though, she’d done wonders with my hair and makeup. My long waves were artfully pinned up around my head, with carefully selected tendrils hanging down to frame my face. As for the bruise, Lexi had kept her word and made it disappear beneath layers of expensive foundation and bronzer. The dark shadows beneath my eyes, permanent remnants from my sleepless nights, would only be discernible under intense scrutiny.
    The stage lights came up suddenly, illuminating the platform and blinding me temporarily. When my vision cleared, I saw four men silhouetted against the backlit stage. Slowly, the full house lights came up, revealing the band members.
    My eyes tracked appreciati vely up the lead singer’s body – starting at the black combat boots near eye-level, up past the black denim-clad thighs, and finally settling on the well-sculpted chest filling out a plain black v-neck. An elegant tattoo neatly cuffed one of his biceps and disappeared up under his shirt – a tribal whorl of indiscernible patterns that immediately captured my attention and had me fantasizing about tracing my fingers along the swirling labyrinth of ink.
    “Oh, shit,” I heard Lexi mutter beside me; apparently I wasn’t alone i n my appreciation of the band, and my slow perusal hadn’t even reached his face yet. With that thought, I stopped blatantly ogling his shoulder muscles and moved my gaze higher.
    I stopped breathing.
    Yes, it was certainly an attractive face – more than simply attractive, if I were honest with myself. He was beautiful, with dark eyes, a chiseled jawline, and a wickedly sexy smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
    The same mouth that had insulted me less than 24 hours ago.
    Because I was looking up at Finn. And Finn was staring straight back at me.
    He mostly looked surprised, but undercurrents of amusement and smug satisfaction played out across his face as he recognized me and my palpable discomfort.  The asshole had obviously just caught me in the process of slowly undressing his body with my eyes, and he couldn't be happier about it .
    Crap .
    I’m sure he registered my look of shock and confusion before I managed to break away from his smug gaze,