We drove around the block three times trying to determine which house the party was at. All the fraternities and sororities were grouped together, we saw team banners at more than one house, and I never saw any football shaped lights at all. Harry said there'd be lights.

"Oh my God," I groaned in realization as Kate steered her Volkswagen around the same corner for the fourth time that night, "football lights. He didn't mean football like we mean football. He meant soccer." We were so damn American. "There it is!"

Kate found the whole thing hilarious enough to keep her laughing for the entire twenty minutes it took her to parallel park. We flipped down the visors, double-checked our hair and makeup, and quickly hoofed it toward the house, our exhales visible on the frosty air.

It was 11:30 already, and from the looks of the yard, some people must have been partying before the football game was even over. There was a small fire pit in the front yard surrounded by drunk kids in lawn chairs, others sitting on blankets scattered atop the dead, brown grass.

"It must be pretty full inside," I commented as we zig-zagged our way through the spillover to the porch. We heard music blaring and the house looked packed from what glimpsed through the windows.

Her hand on the doorknob, Kate turned to me, "Try to be nice if you see that blonde chick. Don't feel like you have to kick somebody's ass just cause you've got your boots on. We don't want to get kicked out of our first party," she warned with a smirk.

"Shut up and open the damned door," I laughed, "you can't hold me responsible for what I do when I wear my hoe-down boots," I egged her on with a wink. Oh, my sass was out early tonight.

She pushed the door open, and I followed her in, our eyes sweeping over the scene. There was a foosball table, two seating areas with sofas full of people, and a rectangular table in the corner where a group played beer pong. The room was huge, the music loud, and the smell of beer and cigarette smoke fueled the party beast within. I noticed a keg in the corner near the beer pong game, and wondered if there were other beverage options in the kitchen.

"Let's go check out the kitchen, find a drink, then take a walk around?" I suggested. We recognized a few faces from class, but we'd been sticking together so much being new to the country, I realized we really didn't know anybody there.

Kate led the way to the kitchen, where we discovered a huge punch bowl, cokes, and bottles of various liquors. Decisions, decisions, I thought to myself as I picked up a red Solo cup.

"Hey there," I turned to see a cute blonde guy that looked vaguely familiar. "You're in my literature class? With Professor Cavanaugh?" he asked, his Irish accent triggering my memory.

"Oh yea," I replied, "you were sitting in front of us, when that guy came in late and stepped all over your stuff," I laughed.

"Right! Harry is such a mess," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm Niall. You girls American?" He smiled, glancing briefly at my boots.

He seemed like a nice guy. We introduced ourselves and made small talk while I made myself a whiskey and coke, and Kate helped herself to some of the mystery punch. She guzzled it down in the ten minutes we were talking and refilled her cup. I gave her the look, which she ignored.

Kate turned to Niall, "So did ya'll win the game?"

Niall grinned and opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted.

"Of course they won. They always win. But I guess being straight off the farm, you might not be too educated when it comes to sports."

It was Paige. She appeared out of nowhere, her eyes slowly give me a judgey once over, a smile spreading over her face when she noticed my boots. For being such a beautiful girl physically, her smile seemed almost...sinister? Not only did she appear insincere, when our eyes finally met, they just looked empty. My eyes narrowed as I mentally prepared my retaliation.

"They're from a city in Texas, not a damn farm," Niall piped in, supplying information he'd gained from our prior conversation, "give 'em a break." Did I detect annoyance?

"So what was the score then?" Kate directed toward Niall, breaking up the psychotic feeling that permeated the air since Paige entered.

"2 to 1," I heard a British accent from behind me, "it was a tight one."

I turned and there he was. Harry. Talking about tightness.

"That's what he said," Niall remarked, then laughed hysterically at his own joke.

"Impressive," I bit my lip, nodding to Harry.

He smiled, running his hand through long, semi-curly hair. I bet if he trimmed it just a bit, those curls would be crazy. He swept his hair away from his face, his head tilted toward the floor, his eyes lifted to look into mine. "Did you get to see the game?" he asked. Fuck, he was beautiful. He smelled good too.

Kate chimed in, "Not this time. We barely found our way to the party because of some football versus soccer confusion," she confessed. Dammit.

I shot Kate a glare as Harry chuckled at our learning curve. "Well," he said, continuing to mess with his hair, "there's always next time." I didn't even notice what he was wearing, because I was unable to tear my eyes away from his face.

"Americans," Paige sighed with a tone I didn't appreciate. She turned to Harry condescendingly, "You really need to get a haircut. This is getting ridiculous." What a controlling bitch. I think she was just jealous because her hair looked fried from overprocessing. This chick needed a hot oil treatment and an attitude adjustment. I detected a slight wince from Harry as she criticized him, sliding her arm around his waist to clarify who he belonged to.

"Come out back and play some games?" Niall offered, breaking the tension. "There are some fires and electric heaters out there, it's not too bad out. The wildest stuff always seems to go down in the backyard," he grinned, raising his eyebrows.

"Good to know," I refilled my drink, "let's check it out?" I said to Kate, who nodded in agreement. "Thanks for the party invite," I addressed Harry, despite Paige squeezing him so tightly that he looked uncomfortable. "See you around," I offered sympathetically as Kate and I turned to follow Niall out back.

As we exited the kitchen, I could hear Harry, "Dammit, Paige. Can you just lay off? I can't deal with this shit anymore..." his voice trailed off as we were soon out of earshot.

The backyard was pretty chaotic. There was a game of volleyball going on, and about 12 people jammed into an 8-person hot tub, the steam from the hot water filling the cold air. There were smaller groups of people talking here and there.

"Sorry about Paige," Niall offered, "she has a bit of a diva attitude." Niall was obviously not a fan.

"No joke," Kate replied, "Sherry's not even that bad," she elbowed me, smiling at Niall.

What the fuck? Ah, I see. She's into the Irish one and throwing me under the bus for entertainment value. Knowing that Kate hadn't been laid in awhile, I let it slide for now, making a mental note to take this up with her later. Meanwhile, I wasn't going to stick around and listen to her crap.

"Hey, I think I see someone I know over there," I lied, looking off in the distance. "I'll see you later?" I discreetly gave Kate a look letting her know I was getting out of her way so she could try to hook up with Niall.

I walked a circle around the yard to see what else was going on, and noticed some kids engaged in a game of spin the bottle. Gah. I'd rather get a root canal than deal with that shit.

I headed toward the kitchen intending to get another drink and then check out the beer pong in the front room. When I entered the kitchen, Harry and Paige were still arguing. Shit. I realized not much time had passed since we had left them, so I they hadn't been going at it for too long. I briefly caught Harry's eye, and instead of making another drink, I kept walking, passing straight into the living room.

Scanning the room with a sigh, I realized my party mood had passed. We should have waited until we knew a few more people before coming to something like this. There was a line for the bathroom downstairs, so I went upstairs to check out the house and hopefully find a bathroom with a shorter line. I figured I would blow some time until I knew how things panned out with Kate and Niall, then hit her up for the car keys and go on home. Looks like Moby Dick was the only dick I'd be seeing tonight.

I felt a mild surge of happiness when I saw the upstairs bathroom had only a three person line. Standing in the hallway was a struggle because so many people were squeezing by, going in and out of rooms, and even couples standing around making out.

I needed some solitude. Things weren't going as planned. I wanted to mess around with the Paige bitch, but she acted so mean toward Harry, I knew that anything I did to irritate her would get taken out on HIM. I didn't want that to happen, so I had to hold it in, when really I just wanted to punch her in the throat.

I noticed one of the rooms had sign on the door which read, "do not enter: toxic waste." It might as well have said, "SHERRY COME IN THIS ROOM," because I was certainly going in. I turned the knob and was thrilled that it wasn't locked. I opened it a tad and peered through the crack. No one was inside making out, either.

Then the warning came, "He'll get pissed if you go in there. He doesn't like anyone in his room. Everyone knows that."

I turn to see a cutie with blue eyes and brown fringe. He looked athletic. Exasperated, I pulled the door closed.

"Louis!" someone hollered from down the corridor, getting his attention.

"I'm serious," he turned back to me. "You've been warned." He sounded so sassy, but then there was a little smile at the end as shook his finger at me, then headed off down the hallway after a dark-headed guy that had a lot of tattoos.

Once he was out of sight, I swiftly entered the room, closing the door behind me. No one will know if I chill out in here for awhile. Jeez. Somebody's uptight about their shit. Maybe they should invest in a lock?

Before I even had a chance to peruse the room, I heard loud voices in the hallway headed toward the door.

"Harry! Do not walk away from me!" It had to be Paige.

I was frozen to the spot. Still. Listening. Only then did I notice the jersey tossed across a chair with "Styles" printed on the back in large white letters.

After that, my eyes saw nothing but the turning of the doorknob. It was zoomed in and all-consuming, like a close-up in a movie. I had to hide, and fast.

I scanned the room, frantic. Before I knew it, I was inside the closet, ever so softly closing the door, as another door – much too close for my comfort – opened.