I should’ve known the silence was too good to be true. Positive that I’ll have to come up with a fib so Corinne won’t go digging around, I glance over only to find her darting her gaze everywhere but on me. It’s obvious that she’s trying to find Hollister in the crowd. She’ll probably forget the name of the school as soon as I say it, but that’s still not enough for me to tell her.

I’m an idiot for opening this conversation in the first place.

So, I do what I do best. I change the subject. It takes me five seconds to spot Daniel. “Look.” I point across the room to where he’s standing in front of a closed door with an oversized Keep Calm and Play Baseball poster hanging lopsided on it. He’s busy talking to two girls—the same who were smoking on the front porch when Corinne and I arrived.

They seem to be hanging on to his every word.

What the hell was the appeal with this guy?

“We should go over and say hi,” Corinne says, unable to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

I decline quickly. “You go ahead. I need to use the bathroom, but I’ll catch up in a few.”

Before she can offer to tag along, I take off in the other direction. When I reach the nearby hallway and glance back, I’m relieved to see that she’s made her way over to Daniel and is beaming up at him as he teases one of her springy curls.

Although every door is closed, the bathroom is easy to find—there’s a sloppily written sign that reads Don’t Piss in the Garbage Can taped to the center. Glancing down at the penmanship on the back of my hand, I’m 99.9 percent sure the guy guarding the front door made this sign, too.

When the door opens, a face I’ve seen before stumbles into the hallway. It’s the blond girl who came out of Professor Cameron’s office earlier this afternoon. She gives me a friendly smile and a nod before rushing away, leaving behind the scent of vanilla-scented body spray. Before I have a chance to go inside, a guy with shaggy brown hair and a giant grin comes out behind her. He doesn’t spare me a second glance before he takes off in the direction the girl went.

I’ve seen this so many times before that I don’t blink an eye. As soon as I’m finished, I adjust my hat in the fingerprint-smudged mirror. Behind me, there’s a frayed The Hangover poster and a wastebasket overfilled with crushed beer cans, paper towels, and God knows what else.

“Just like every other damn party,” I say.

Grabbing my untouched can of warm beer from the back of the sink, I follow the sound of music, which is louder than when I arrived, back to the party. Krewella booms from the sound system plugged in by the couch, and the musician in me feels every beat vibrating off the beer-soaked floor as I make my way over to Corinne and Daniel.

While I try not to run into anyone or anything, something hits me: This is the first time in the history of Evie vs. Parties that I’m not the cliché drunk—the one stumbling around, breathing beer breath in everyone’s face. Of course, the night is so young that nobody is at this point, but it’s bound to happen.

It always happens.

It just won’t be me.

The blond girl I’d seen in the music building and then in the hallway here a few minutes ago walks past me, but instead of continuing on, she freezes and faces me.

“You look totally bored.” She holds her cup to her lips, smiling over the rim as she inches closer to me. “I’m Mac, by the way.”

“Evie.”

Nodding, she mouths my name, committing it to memory as she races her hand through her chin-length hair. “Look, Evie ... what you saw back there—”

I shake my head quickly. “You don’t even have to explain.”

“—was my boyfriend, Eli,” she continues. “I was trying to talk him into coming back to my apartment with me tonight, but he thinks he’s got to be here with his team.” Rolling her eyes, she tilts her cup back. As soon as she’s finished chugging her drink at record speed, she crumbles the plastic in her hand.

“You can close your mouth now; it’s just water. Professor Cameron seems to know exactly when I drink because she swears she can hear it in my voice. Says it makes me sound like a drunken lounge singer.”

“Wow.”

With a giant grin, she shrugs. “She doesn’t hold anything back.”

“So I take it you’re a voice major, too?”

“It’s my minor, actually. I switched majors at the beginning of my sophomore year.” Mac gives me a shrug before adding, “Minor or major?”

“Major. First year.”

She grins. “Welcome to the jungle. Get ready for life with the mega bitch.” The last two words are sung in a soft high soprano. “Don’t get me wrong—Cameron’s good, insanely good, but she’s also tough. She was my advisor freshman year but now she just does my voice lessons. Still ... she just keeps offering me advice. No matter how much I tell her I’m A-okay without it.”

“Thanks for making me feel better.”

“You’ll be alright,” Mac promises. “Plus, her grad student this year is hot. His body is in-cre-di-ble.”

Rhys Delane. Even at a party that has nothing to do with music, he still manages to affect me. God, I can’t imagine the carnage that’ll be my mind and heart if I go through an entire semester working side by side with him.

I force a smile. “Can’t wait to meet him.”

“Who’s hot, babe?” Her bathroom partner from earlier comes up behind her, wrapping his arms Mac’s tiny waist and resting his chin on the top of her head.

“Eli, this is Evie.”  After her boyfriend and I exchange pleasantries, she twists her head back to stare at him. “And we’re talking about that guy I introduced you to at the Red Denial show.” When he doesn’t immediately grasp whom she’s referring to, she lets out a little huff, blowing up a few unruly wisps of golden hair. “Your memory blows. Glee on the juice?”

Recognition dawning on his expression, Eli grins. “Ah, yeah. That guy.” Before I can ask if Glee on the juice is a reference to Rhys’ physique—which, even knowing who he is, I can’t help but echo Mac’s sentiments that it’s killer—Eli says, “Listen, I’m thinking about cutting out of here in a few minutes ...”

“Uh huh,” she says dryly, and he lifts his shoulders sheepishly before offering her a promising look and backing away. He grants me a smile as he immerses himself in the crowd of gyrating bodies.

“It never fails, he always waits until I find someone I really want to talk to and then decides he’s tired.” She starts digging around in the big purse slung over her shoulder.  “Ah ... there they go.” When she pulls her hand out, she’s holding an enormous set of keys and her phone, which is enshrouded by a bright pink case. She hands the phone to me.

“Add your number. We can do lunch or something and talk about how batshit insane Cameron is after she makes you sing “Sento Nel Core” eighty million times because she doesn’t think you quite grasp what pianissimo stands for.”

Arching my eyebrow, I work my fingers over the smooth screen, typing my number quickly. “You have officially made me not want to go to class on Monday. Thanks a million.”

“Tell her you saw her on Broadway sixteen years ago and that she was brilliant. Cameron’s a compliment whore—she eats that shit up.” As I make a mental note to research musicals my professor performed in while I was still in Pull-ups, Mac takes her phone back. She makes a few strokes across the screen, and a second later my own phone vibrates within my pocket. “There, you’ve got my number.” Boosting herself up on her tiptoes, she glances across the room to the front door where her boyfriend is talking to the stamper and rolls her brown eyes before taking off toward him. “Text me!”

Nobody else stops me as I return to my roommate, and the moment Corinne sees me, she throws her arm around me, causing me to go completely still. “God, you disappear too much,” she laughs when she lets go of me.