Luca is really handsome, so I'm not surprised Sara tried to set us up. But before it gets too awkward, Luca asks, "A new game of beer pong is starting. You wanna play?" He tilts his head at the table with the two triangles made of red plastic cups.

"Sure. I'm great at beer pong." And that's not a lie. While I was still in high school, my brother would come and visit mom and I on the weekends. He would teach me how to play it. He said that if I wanted to succeed in college, I had to be great at beer pong.

Luca chuckles and follows me to the table.

Surprisingly, he is also pretty good at the game, not at my level, but close. The other team is sadly also good. This is the third round we are playing, and it's a tie. And both teams are stubborn enough that we keep playing until we have a clear winner.

I know I should have stopped playing after the first round, because this cup I'm drinking is my... honestly, I'm not even sure what number it is. I'm full on tipsy right now, giggling and laughing at everything. Luca has to steady me from falling on my face every time I jump when we get the ball in one of the other team's cups. Maybe wearing heels wasn't so smart after all. But damn, do I look good in them.

There are only two cups left on the table, one for each team, and it feels pretty intense. We have caught the attention of everyone—minus David and his girlfriend for the night—in the playroom.

It's Luca's turn to throw the ball and if it lands in the cup, we win. My heart is pounding really fast because of the alcohol in my body and the cheers.

Luca is holding the little ball in his right hand and moving it back and forth, testing his aim. Everyone has gone eerily quiet and I can't even hear the music playing in the background, only the sound of my pounding heart.

I glance at Luca's profile and see the look of concentration on his face. His eyes narrow a little, his eyebrows furrow in determination. His aim hasn't gone to shit even after all the alcohol he consumed, and he is taking this game a little too seriously, even more than I am. And I take beer pong really seriously.

He moves his arm a couple more times back and forth, then, finally, he throws it. I move my gaze from his profile to the ball just in time to see it land in the other team's cup.

Cheers and applause erupt from everyone. I jump up and down and throw my hands around his neck. Alcohol erasing my rationale.

He is taken aback and doesn't get the chance to react because I remove myself from him after two seconds.

"We won!" I cheer. "Good job." I high five him.

"Thanks. You played well, too."

"You are almost better than me at this." I fake a pout. He just laughs, but it's too low for me to hear it.

I go fetch myself some water while people are congratulating Luca for the win. Sara and Alex are still nowhere in sight. So I just lean against the wall and pop an Advil and chase with some more water. Ben insists on having Advil pills lying around so people can take them before they go back home. This way, the hangover is more bearable because the headache is less strong in the morning.

I'm about to go up to Luca to tell him I'm going to search for Sara when I see her walk up to me. I push off the wall while taking her in. Her hair isn't as neat as it was when we arrived, but the rest of her still looks decent enough to not give away what she and her boyfriend did in a random room.

"So, Alex is done showing you something?" I tease, my eyes flicking to her hair.

She smoothes a hand through her hair and laughs. "I heard Luca may take your place as the beer pong king."

"Hell no! I'm still the champion." Ben and I are among the few on campus who never lost a game of beer pong.

Sara looks to her left and I follow her gaze to Luca. As if sensing we are looking at him, he lifts his eyes up, looks at us and smiles.

He says something to the guy he is talking to, slaps him on the back and begins walking to us. When he is in front of us he grins at me, then turns towards Sara when she lifts her hand for a high five.

"Damn dude, you've only been here for like a week and you're already mister popular." She says.

"I can't help it." The corners of his mouth lift in an arrogant smile. I don't know if he has dimples or not, the five o'clock shadow on his face and the low lighting making it hard to tell. "Where has Alex run off to?"

"He's with his teammates playing some drinking game in the kitchen," she faces me again, "You want to go home?" She asks me.

I sigh internally. "Yes, please! All the beer I drank has made me woozy and tired." And my feet are killing me.

She nods and turns to Luca. "Well, I'll probably see you around tomorrow."

He acknowledges her with a smile. I reach for my phone from my purse to send Ben a text message telling him I'm leaving.

"It was nice to finally meet someone on my level with beer pong." I joke to Luca.

A grin completely envelopes his face. It makes him look younger.

We say goodbye, then walk downstairs to the front door. Ben replies with a thumbs up and tells me to message him again when I've made it back to my room.

In the now mostly empty street, we walk slowly and hand in hand.

"Sooo," she drawls.

I look over at her in confusion. "'So' what?"

She groans. "You know what I mean."

Still feigning confusion, I say; "No, I don't know what you mean. Enlighten me, please."

She rolls her eyes and nudges my shoulder with hers.

"Alex's new roommate is hot, don't ya think? Totally your type."

I hold up a finger. "First of all, I don't have a type." A second finger, "And I honestly didn't notice as the lights were dim and was busy focusing on winning beer pong." I tell her with a look of pure innocence on my face.

"Ugh, whatever. I know you think he's hot."

He is hot. Only a blind person would think otherwise. He has that dark and mysterious vibe about him. And the dim lighting in the playroom only intensified his hotness.

When we reach our flat, I take my heels off and send Ben a quick text, telling him I've made it back to my room. He asks for a picture for proof, so he knows that it wasn't my kidnapper who sent him that text. I send him a selfie with my middle finger raised and a smug smile. Even though he can be a bit too overprotective, I love him even more for it.

"I'm going straight to bed, babe. Goodnight." I give Sara a quick peck on the cheek and walk to my bedroom. Sara tosses a faint goodnight back and walks in the other direction to her own room.

I undress and throw the dress carelessly on the chair near my desk. In the bathroom, I do my nightly routine; use the toilet, brush my teeth and cleanse my face. Then, I plop down on the bed with only my underwear on.

Living in Miami is awesome–the beaches, the people and just the atmosphere in general–but the humidity is no joke. My wardrobe comprises dresses, skirts, shorts and tank tops. I don't think I own a sweater, having lived all my life in Miami. I do own pyjamas but don't wear them that often; I prefer to sleep in my undies only. Or completely naked, even.

Swallowing another Advil just in case and before I know it, I'm in deep slumber.

☀ ☀ ☀

I am woken up by my annoying alarm the next morning. As I stand up and head to the bathroom, I'm relieved that I don't have a lingering headache. My brother is quite the genius when it comes to hangover remedies. He has tried all the solutions and swears by this one. Even though it's simple, he prefers it over drinking a gross concoction the next morning.

I do a quick body rinse before dressing in gym clothes and an oversized shirt. Then, I head for the kitchen. Sara is still sleeping, so I make extra pancake batter for her. I leave her a note on the fridge, grab my gym bag, and dash outside.

When I enter the gym facilities on campus, my eyes immediately fall on the muscular figure of Mason. He's been my workout partner since freshman year. He's a funny guy and a great workout buddy slash trainer. His determination and discipline are fascinating. I met him the first week of college while he was boxing with his boyfriend. I went up to him and asked if I could work out with him because I love boxing. Since then, we meet up a couple of times a week to work out together.

He sees me and closes the distance, giving me a quick hug. "Hey, Izzy."

"Hey," I greet him and put my water bottle on the ground.

"Let me wrap your hands so we can start."

It's only around ten o'clock on a Saturday, so the gym is practically empty. I prefer working out in the morning because it isn't crowded, and early workouts make me feel energized for the rest of the day.

After our warm-up session of rope skipping, we stand in the boxing ring. I have my boxing gloves on while Mason holds two box pads.

Forty minutes later, my t-shirt is soaked with sweat and my arms are sore. I remove my gloves and struggle to take off my sticky shirt. I jump down from the ring, go to the bench nearby, pick up my water bottle, and drink it all.

Mason puts his stuff back in his gym bag. "I'm done for today. I can't believe I managed this long with a hangover," he says, shaking his head.

Chuckling, I tell him, "I'm going to stretch a little."

We say goodbye, and I take a moment to steady my heartbeat. When I lift my jug to my mouth, I notice it's empty, so I walk to the water fountain nearby, fill it up, then go back to sit on the wooden bench to rest for a few minutes.

After gulping down half the bottle, I close my eyes and let out an audible sigh, starting to feel a little exhausted.

"Someone's tired."

My eyelids open at the manly voice. When I glance at the source of the sound, I see Luca sitting beside me, smiling at me. When did he get here? I didn't even notice him sitting down next to me until he spoke.

He is wearing black shorts and a red workout tee. From the lack of perspiration on his face, I take it he hasn't started his workout yet. The whites of his eyes are a bit red, probably because of all the beer he consumed yesterday during beer pong. My brother's hangover cure must still be unknown to him. I also decide to take the time to really look at his features in the daylight since I didn't get the chance to yesterday. His eyes are just as dark in daylight as they were in the dim lights last night—they're almost entirely black. He has a long, straight nose, and a few freckles dot it. His sharp cheekbones and jawline can't be hidden even if he had a full beard. His lips are big and quite red for a man. Letting my eyes travel lower, I notice his prominent Adam's apple, and I suddenly develop a fascination for it. Moving my gaze back up, I focus on his hair. It's just as dark as his irises, and his curls are tight and smooth, making me wonder if he has a hair care routine. If he does, I need to know it asap.

When I refocus my gaze back to his eyes, he has an eyebrow cocked and one corner of his plump lips turned up.

Shit, he must think I was staring at him! I mean, I was kinda staring.

"You're here early," I tell him.

"Could say the same thing about you. I usually come earlier, but... you know, beer pong."

I chuckle. "My head feels just fine, actually." A slow smile creeps onto my lips.

He studies my face for a beat. "Yeah, I guess you don't look like you have a hangover." He narrows his dark eyes at me suspiciously.

"That's because of my secret hangover cure." I wiggle my eyebrows.

"What is it?" he eagerly and desperately asks.

I'm about to explain it when I suddenly get an idea and shut my mouth. He looks at me expectantly while a mischievous grin spreads on my face.

"I'll tell you if you can beat me in beer pong."

He groans and throws his head back. "Seriously?"

I nod and stand up, my chest now level with his view. I see his eyes flick down to my sports bra and quickly back to my eyes.

"Fine," he reluctantly agrees.

"Great! Next Thursday there's a party after the football game. We'll compete then."

"Okay."

I grab my bag and swing it on my shoulder. We tell each other goodbye, and I head to my dorm. When I arrive, I take a shower, eat, and then call my mother while making my way to the campus parking lot. She picks up on the third ring.

"Hey honey, how are you doing?" my mother's soft voice echoes through the phone. A smile tugs at my lips.

"I'm doing great. I finished exams yesterday and, of course, I had to celebrate." She chuckles at my response.

"Well, you deserve to have fun. Just be safe."

"Always," I assure her.

We talk for a few more minutes before we have to hang up when I catch a glimpse of the bus with footballers around it. I spot Ben talking to Jace, another quarterback. When I'm near them, Ben notices me and takes a couple of long strides until he is picking me up from the floor and spinning me around. He puts me down after one last spin and gives me a quick peck on the forehead.

"Glad you could make it. Wish me luck in the game," he grins at me, his perfect white teeth on display.

"Good luck, Benny," I use the nickname I know he hates. He groans and ruffles my hair. I swat his hand away and smooth down the messy strands.

Sometimes, I like to see Ben off before he has an away game and wish him luck in person. Since there's a little less than two years of age difference between us, we've always been close. Like twins.

"Do I also get a good luck kiss?" Jace asks with a smirk. He walks a few feet closer to us.

"No," Ben and I say at the same time. While I say it with a laugh, Ben says it in a hard tone. Honestly, most of his teammates either treat me as a little sister or they're afraid of him to try anything with me—well, unless I'm the one who initiates something.

The coach calls for the players to hop on the bus. I pinch Ben's cheeks and tell him, "I'll see you on Thursday after you win." He then saunters to the bus with Jace trailing behind him.

Before Jace gets on the bus, he looks back at me with a knowing grin, winks at me, then hops on the bus. I just shake my head at him, but I can't help the smile that creeps up to my lips. I wave to them until the bus is out of sight.