Sophomore Switch by Abby McDonald Page B

fun.
    “I need a break,” Brooke calls, miming a drink. I nod, following her out of the tangle of people and through to the crowded kitchen. “Wow,” Brooke gasps, grabbing a red plastic cup from the table by the keg and pushing a space for me beside her. “Cool crowd, right?”
    “Right,” I agree, taking my own cup. It is a party, I suppose, and after all that dancing, the beer is cool and refreshing. “Do you go to these often?”
    “Every week, sometimes more.” Brooke scans the room quickly. “It’s what college is for.” She grins. “That and fifty grand of student loans.”
    I gasp. “That’s terrible!”
    “Tell me about it.” She shrugs, her loose red top shimmering with the movement. “So I may as well have as much fun as I can before I’m doomed to earn it all back.”
    “Good plan.” I tip my cup to hers in a toast. She quickly downs the rest of hers.
    “Screw this, how about some shots?”
    I hesitate.
    “C’mon, just the one. Trust me, it’ll be fun.”
    There it is again, the F-word, dangling just out of reach.
    “Sure,” I decide, linking my arm through hers. “Why not?”
    “Yay!” she cries, tugging me out onto the back porch. It’s slightly quieter there, and some boys are playing a strange game involving beer cups and Ping-Pong balls. “Sam, you still got that Cuervo?”
    I stop with a jolt. I haven’t seen him since the scene at the beach, but I’ve definitely thought of him — and my complete ineptitude. I wonder if he considers me an utter idiot. Thankfully, Sam doesn’t seem to notice any awkwardness. He hugs Brooke and then turns to me.
    “Emily.” He grins, blue eyes gleaming. “How’ve you been?”
    “Great,” I answer as he pulls me into a long embrace. His jeans actually fit instead of falling around his crotch, and his black shirt makes those ice-blue eyes stand out even more.
    “Get a room,” another male voice exclaims, and I draw back to see an athletic-looking guy with close-cropped black hair. He’s tossing a Ping-Pong ball from hand to hand. “Are you in this game or not?”
    “Lay off,” Sam calms him. “Let’s give these girls what they came for, OK?”
    Brooke blushes. “Hey, Louis.” She grins, broadcasting her crush for everyone to see. His eyes graze her body, and evidently she passes his test because soon he’s chatting and flirting with her.
    “So, you ever done tequila shots before?” Sam looks down at me intently.
    “Of course.” I laugh, deciding I’ve seen enough films to fake it. “Lime and salt?”
    “The lady’s demanding.” He laughs. “I like it. OK, everyone, it’s on!”
    He produces a row of shot glasses and lines them up on the edge of the table. Louis fetches the accessories, andsoon I’m staring at the glass of innocuous-looking amber liquid.
    “One.” The three of them lick salt from the back of their hands. I follow, half a beat behind. “Two!” Sam yells, downing his shot. I do the same and almost choke from the oily, bitter taste. “Three!” I stuff the lime slice in my mouth, shuddering, and suck hard to rid myself of that awful tequila taste.
    “Ugh!” Brooke’s face is screwed up. “Why doesn’t that get any easier?”
    “No pain, no gain.” Louis slips an arm around her. “Now what do you say we whip these pussies at beer pong?”
    “Emily?” Sam raises his eyebrows. I nod, feeling the strange warmth in my chest as the tequila burns its way down the inside of my body.
    “You’ll have to teach me, though.”
    “My pleasure.” Sam grins, and I think that perhaps I haven’t ruined it with him after all.
    A victorious beer pong game leads to more dancing, and soon the night is a blur of laughter and Sam’s body is pressed warm against me. “I’ll be right back,” I promise, levering myself up from the porch seat when the need for a toilet break can no longer be denied.
    “You better.” Sam keeps his fingers intertwined with mine as I back away. “Otherwise I’ll send out