“Upperclassmen don’t go?”
“Not usually. We’re more focused.”
I try not to roll my eyes. Another wide generalization. Lo would hate this guy. I must still look anxious because Connor closes our books.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “We can call off the bet. You don’t need to lose your money because I can’t concentrate.”
“I’ve never failed on my tutoring promises. The bet still stands. You’ll pass your exam, Lily. I’m certain of it.” That makes one of us. “Now, you’re obviously really concerned about your boyfriend. Until we find him, you’re not going to learn anything, so where do you think he could be?”
Huh? He’s offering to help me track down my boyfriend? I blink away the strangeness of Connor Cobalt and try to concentrate on Lo. Where would he be? That’s a good question. He partied himself out his first two years of college and has recently stuck to bars. Usually he arrives home at a reasonable time so he can drink heavy liquor here and pass out.
If I’m not driving him, then he has to be somewhere on campus. “You said that the highlighter party was on campus?” I ask.
“It’s outside on one of the quads.”
“We’ll start there.”
*
Strobe lights flicker across a grassy field. Bodies pump together to the hypnotic beat of house music. We approach at a distance. Most people wear white clothes with streaks of paint and marker that glow in the black lights. They run around and grind, almost animalistic in the cold night.
How will I be able to find Lo in this mess?
Before we integrate with the bumping and sweaty crowds, a petite redhead clenches my elbow. “Hey, you’ll need this.” She passes me a white tee. I frown as she hands Connor a much bigger size from the cardboard box by her feet. He doesn’t seem fazed as he unbuttons his dress shirt and pulls the other over his head, handing her his button-down.
“I’m not getting that back, am I?” he asks her with a flirtatious smile, or maybe it’s just a nice one. It’s hard to tell with a socialite like him.
Her eyes flicker roguishly, and she grabs his wrist. With a black magic marker, she scrawls her number on his palm. “I’ll keep it safe for you.” She puts her arms through the holes and wears the button-down like a light jacket.
Holy crap. I have to commend her. That was sexy.
Connor just smiles—calm and collected like it’s completely normal to search for his tutoree’s lost boyfriend and be hit on by a pretty redhead at a party.
Keeping my shirt on, I yank the white tee over my clothes and pull my hair out of the collar, layering up. Then we enter the madness.
Some guy with a neon green wig runs at me screaming like a banshee. He brandishes a giant pink highlighter and streaks it right across my boobs. That’s lovely.
Connor finds my hand and tugs me in a different direction. “What does he look like?!” he yells over the blasting music that vibrates my feet.
I dodge a purple highlighter that heads for my bare arm and pop up Lo’s picture on my phone.
“I know this guy!” He points to the screen. “He’s in my International Affairs class!”
I suppose that’s not that big of a coincidence. Business majors have to take all the same upper-electives. “That’s good! Should we split up?!” A girl squeals beside me and draws a yellow line right across my ass. Seriously? I’m not even wearing white shorts. The marker stains an ugly brown color on my jean pants.
He scouts the party and nods. “I’ll be on the side with the canvas and paint!” There’s paint around here?! Yeah, he can take that area. “You check out the keg.”
Good, he sends me to the one place Lo will probably be if he attended this crazed party, even if he considers keg beer to be the equivalent of cat piss. Huddled around the keg, people with markers are sparse, which leaves college students who came for free beer.
A lanky guy covered in neon blue paint does a keg stand, his shirt flopping over his head and revealing patches of curly hair on his chest. He chugs the bitter drink, and it takes only a couple minutes to deduce that Lo isn’t here.
I should have known. Cheap alcohol and ear-splitting music have not been part of his ritual since he was sixteen. While Lo may not have fully matured yet, his indulgences have.
I try calling him again, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“Lily?”
I frown and spin on my heels to face the male voice. I don’t recognize him until I spot his highlighted fraternity shirt: Kappa Phi Delta. The frat house Lo picked me up at.