Carter Rome Stone is the golden boy of Louisiana State University, as well as the captain of the college football team. He has only one goal: to secure his name in the NFL draft.
He has everything one could wish for, both on and off the field: shar...
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Each drink offered seemed like a better and better idea.
But now, after our third... fourth? maybe shots in a row, seems to be the worst idea ever.
"Come on, drink it"
My fingers swirl around the tiny glass, my eyes close shut in a distressed sense of a headache. I tilt my head towards the black headed girl next to me that awaits with her hand up in the air for me to clink our rum shots.
I hop from the stool as I follow her gesture and after clinking our glasses together and almost spill all the liquid all over me, I take a long sip of the burning dark substance that flows through me. I cough, my throat literally on fire and and I swear, if my mouth was too close to a gasoline source, my breath would set on fire the entire house.
"Another one" She calls loudly, ordering another round from the girl behind the counter.
I watch her with wide eyes, I don't need to look in a mirror to see they're not blue anymore. Assuming it's already late night, and I've been drinking shitty liquors for at least three hours straight... my self-proclaimed degree in ophthalmology tells me they are red, bloodshot eyes.
I don't how much I can take it anymore. Girl, I'm a lightweight. It takes just one other shots to kill my liver.
"What's your name again?" I utter, sighing in a submissive breath. My hand is already on the counter waiting to grab the next snifter.
"Mia" Her chocolate brown eyes flick up to me, as her lips quirk up into a toothy grin "I should be offended by now since I remember your name, Elle?"
Right! I should have remembered her name the first time she told me. It's the first Italian word I heard here in a long time. After pasta, spaghetti... spaghetti.
No I won't think about him, especially not after I saw him speaking, dancing and drinking with Charlotte almost in front of me. Asshole
"Bo" She speaks, fortunately distracting me from my thoughts. I blink a few times in an attempt to remember what she said. When I peer down at her to see her eyes widen as if she has seen something that makes her extremely nervous and uncomfortable on the stool. She wears a face like she'd been punch in the stomach. I can tell from the restless bitting on her bottom lips it's not something good.
"Bo?" I repeat her word. I scratch my forehead in confusion, trying to understand what this word could mean.
"Bo" She says another time, nodding her head toward a guy who's definitely walking towards us.
