Well, shit.

I remembered Oz, one of my best and oldest friends (one of the troublemakers I met at a high school party when I was twelve), mentioning it once last summer.

He told me in passing that Scout Crimson – his former nemesis turned friend – was going to attend Rutgers like me. I just didn't give enough shit back then because I was so sure that there was no way Scout and I would run into each other. I mean, there were a bunch of campuses in Rutgers. What were the fucking odds?

I guess that was a mistake on my part.

"How're the guys?" asked Scout.

My high school friends, we liked to call each other 'the crew,' consisted of four guys and me. I didn't have much girlfriends because they caused way too much drama.

And aside from my brother being some kinda football legend at school, my two best friends, Oz and Alfie, also made the team in our freshman year. So I was mostly surrounded by the football team.

I mean, they always think with their dicks but at least they didn't do bullshit.

"Still better than you," I answered Scout, with a sweet smile.

He grinned. "Depends on your definition of 'better.'"

"In every sense of the word."

"I might surprise you."

"Don't hold your breath."

"I won't." He shrugged. "I'll just prove you wrong."

I wasn't really sure why I hated Scout Crimson so fucking much. His self-righteousness? His goody-two-shoes bullshit? Or maybe it was the fact that he was too fucking nice for his own good? In fact, all that holiness led him to his friends betraying him – his naivety cost him almost everything back in high school.

He used to be the crew's enemy. To put it simply, he was the Clark Kent to our Lex Luthor ways. That was . . . until fucking Oz declared 'permanent truce' halfway our senior year. Gods only knows what would happen if anyone went against what Oz wanted.

Permanent truce, my ass. Still don't like this guy.

"You guys gonna start playing anytime soon?" exclaimed Pike. "I'm pretty close to dozing off."

I didn't mention the fact that Scout was a freshman, too. Why was he allowed to stay here?

First, I wasn't a whiner. Second, it was no brainer. Word must've gotten around that he was the newest recruit to Rutger's basketball team, the Scarlet Knights. Being an athlete gave you a free pass to almost anything in this country. Either you accept it, or you bitch about it.

"Bring it on, Crimson," I said.

The corner of his lips turned up, before lifting the tiny white ball and throwing it straight into the middle cup on my end. I never watched him play live, but I've heard about it.

Legend says, he never misses a shot.

Fuck.

"Pick up the cup, Anderson."

Resisting the urge to glare at him, I grabbed the cup, removed the ball, and drank it empty. I looked at him with an indifferent face before shooting the ball into his cup. I smirked, while he only smiled. He picked up the cup and raised it to me before drinking.

The game went on like that. The thing was, I never got drunk anymore – not since I was sixteen when I learned how to hold my liquor. I thought I had that to my advantage against Scout, that he would get drunk by his fifth cup and I'd win. Man, was I wrong. Where the hell did he even learn to drink like this?

When he finished his seventh cup, I wasn't able to hide my shock anymore.

"How the fuck?" I muttered.

"You don't know me, Anderson," he merely said, grinning.

Apparently not.

I didn't answer him and went on with the game. In the end, Scout won (only because he took the first shot) but it looked like I impressed Pike enough because he let us stay after the game.

"I'm blown away," beamed Madeline, coming up next to me.

"I know," I replied.

"Let me just get some beer."

"I'm good."

She snorted. "Duh, I meant I'm getting me some."

I laughed out loud, liking my her sass.

"You don't like me," said by a deep male voice from behind.

I didn't answer him. Instead, I walked across the room and stood by the wall, watching college students party and comparing it to what I experienced in high school.

"Why?" continued Scout, leaning on the wall beside me.

I sighed, not looking at him. "Why not?"

He walked to my front and faced me, covering my view of the party. He was studying me, a smile forming on his lips. His expression told me that he knew that I was messing with him. Huh, he wasn't so stupid after all.

"It's cool," he added, shrugging. "You'll change your mind by the end of the month."

He sounded so sure of himself that I had to face him. Look at that, Carrothead was hiding an inner cockiness. My friends would no doubt shit themselves if they found out.

I tilted my head. "Who says I'll hang out with you?"

"Who says we'll even hang out?"

I stared at him, my eyes narrowing. "Are you fucking flirting with me?" I was torn between disbelief and amusement. I never saw this side of him before.

He sighed after a couple of seconds. "You're right. I shouldn't." He closed his eyes and shook his head as his face grew more serious. "You're with Alfie. I shouldn't act this way around his girl."

My jaw clenched. He didn't know.

See, I had a boyfriend back in high school. He was also my best friend. I've always had feelings for him but he was such a dickhead that I knew there was no chance for us to be together. Plus, I didn't delude myself into thinking I was the one to tame the fuckboy. But then, one night in senior year changed everything."I'm not his girl," I stated a-matter-of-factly.

Scout's forehead creased. "What?"

"Alfie and I broke up over the summer, before he went to Florida with Oz."

It was a mutual decision. We fought each other a lot, more than we already did when we were just friends. And even though we managed to settle our arguments in the bedroom, it wasn't enough. I was scared we might lose the respect we had for each other if we continued to handle things that way.

The sad part was, that was the only way we knew how to do it. Talking didn't really help – it only managed to piss us off even more. Ironically, the one time talking did help was when we decided to break up.

So we stuck to what we were good at – being best friends.

"Oh, are you okay?" asked Scout, sounding genuinely concerned.

I only shrugged. I could answer him straight on, but it was none of his business.

"Regardless, I shouldn't have said that. It's just . . . so good to see a familiar face, you know? And honestly?" He paused to let out a laugh. "I have no idea how to approach you."

I raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't just say 'Hey, how've you been? I haven't seen you since that party at Oz's place.'" I quickly shut up, wanting to kick myself for adding that last part. He didn't need to know that I remembered seeing him that night.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you would've just ignored me if I said that."

True. "No, I wouldn't."

"Yeah, you totally would."

Yeah, I totally would.

"Why bother, then? We can't be friends, anyway."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"You're too good."

"I don't need to break the rules to have fun."

I smirked at that. "You sure about that?"

He nodded.

"What are you drinking right now?" I asked innocently.

He stared at me for a second then he started to smile, already knowing where I was going with this.

"Beer," he humored me.

"And how old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Right, and how old is the legal drinking age in our country?"

He was full on grinning now. "Twenty-one."

"And are you enjoying the buzz that comes with drinking beer?"

"Can't say that I'm not," he admitted.

"So are you breaking the rules to have fun or did I just hear some bullshit excuse to justify that being 'good' is not totally boring?" I crossed my arms and tilted my head in a challenge.

"Touché."

"Thought so," I snorted, looking away.

"But you're also wrong."

I turned my eyes back to him. "How so?"

"If I'm breaking the rules, that doesn't make me 'too good' now, does it?"

Knowing he had the last say, he flashed me one last grin before walking away and disappearing through the ocean of drunk college students. All I could do was stare at the spot where I last saw him.

Shit, he had me there.