chapter four

Chapter Four

Kieran's POV

The address appeared in the team group chat barely twenty minutes before the party, dropped there without explanation alongside nothing but a location pin and a message from Rowan that read, Stop asking questions and just get here.

 Naturally, nobody listened. The chat exploded almost immediately with wild guesses about who owned a mansion large enough to host half the university, yet Rowan refused to answer a single one, replying only with laughing emojis that somehow made everyone even more curious. 

By the time I pulled into the driveway, I understood why he'd kept quiet. The place was obscene. 

Luxury cars lined both sides of the entrance, music pulsed through the walls hard enough to make the windows tremble, and students covered the front lawn with bottles already in their hands.

 I killed the engine, stepped out into the cool night air and stared at the mansion for a second longer than necessary, wondering who in their right mind would trust Rowan enough to hand over something this expensive.

The thought barely had time to settle before I walked through the front doors, and almost instantly my eyes betrayed me, as they moved across the room without permission, skimming over unfamiliar faces, drifting through the kitchen, lingering near the staircase before sweeping lazily across the crowd again, searching with a quiet urgency that made absolutely no sense. 

It took several long seconds before I realised what or rather who I was looking for. Bonehead; the ridiculous nickname surfaced before I could stop it, followed by a wave of irritation directed entirely at myself. 

‘Seriously? Of everyone in this house, why the hell was he the first person my brain decided to look for?’ I clicked my tongue against my teeth and tore my attention away from the crowd, annoyed by the answer my own mind refused to give me.

"There you are."

Melody appeared in front of me wearing the kind of smile that could brighten an entire room. Before I had the chance to greet her, she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek, laughing softly when I instinctively slipped an arm around her waist.

"I thought you really weren't coming."

"Yh, thought about it a few minutes after you left and why not?  "

"Good, I thought I was going to have to come back home to drag your sexy ass out. "

"And who said I wouldn't have loved that"

She laughed again, smoothing an invisible crease from the front of my shirt before looking me over with exaggerated approval. "Awwñ, you wore the shirt I got you."

"Does that mean you love it"

“I love it"

She reached up to kiss my cheek once more before glancing toward a group of girls waving excitedly from the opposite side of the room.

"They've been blowing up my phone for the last hour," she sighed dramatically. "I'm going to say hello before they start accusing me of choosing you over them."

"You did choose me."

"I'll be back before your ego gets any bigger."

"I'll hold you to that."

She squeezed my hand once before disappearing into the crowd, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and a strange emptiness I couldn't quite explain.

I didn't have long to think about it. A heavy arm landed across my shoulders so suddenly it nearly made me spill the drink somebody had already shoved into my hand.

"Ashcroft!"

"There he is!"

"About bloody time."

Rowan grinned like he'd been waiting for me all evening, while Mason pushed a cold bottle of beer against my chest with enough force to make me stumble half a step.

"No escaping tonight," Mason declared.

"I wasn't planning to."

"Liar."

"I swear."

"You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The one that says you're thinking too much."

The boys burst into laughter before I could answer, and I rolled my eyes with a smile that felt more genuine than I expected.

Rowan clapped me on the shoulder as we made our way deeper into the house, weaving between students dancing in the hallway and others shouting over a game already underway in the dining room.

 Everywhere I looked, people seemed determined to forget the outside world for one night. Somebody had climbed onto the kitchen counter with a bottle in one hand and a speaker in the other, another group argued loudly over a game of cards, while somewhere upstairs furniture scraped across the floor followed immediately by a chorus of drunken cheers. I shook my head, laughing under my breath.

"Who the hell owns this place anyway?"

Rowan looked at me, then at the house around us, before a slow grin spread across his face.

"Oh..."

He chuckled to himself.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means..."

He opened his mouth to answer.

"BEER PONG!"

The roar came from the dining room like a referee's whistle cutting through a silent arena.

"Ashcroft!"

"Rowan!"

"Stop flirting and get over here!"

Half the hockey team erupted into cheers as plastic cups slammed onto the table one after another. Rowan sighed dramatically before pointing toward the crowd.

"Looks like my explanation will have to wait."

Before I could press him any further, Mason shoved me forward, another teammate thrust a red cup into my hand and the chanting started almost immediately.

 Within seconds I found myself standing at one end of the beer pong table with Rowan beside me, the rest of the team banging their fists against the wood while chanting my name loud enough to drown out the music itself.

 I laughed despite myself, shook my head and lined up my first throw, deciding that for one night I was done thinking. I was done wondering why a certain blue-eyed idiot hadn't shown up yet, done trying to make sense of dreams that refused to leave me alone, and done asking questions that never seemed to have answers.

For now...There was only the game.

The first game disappeared beneath another, then another after that, until keeping score stopped mattering altogether. Every victory was celebrated as though we'd already qualified for the championship, every loss blamed on somebody else's terrible throw, and every empty cup seemed to refill itself before I had the chance to set it down. 

laughter came naturally. It wasn't forced, it wasn't polite; it simply escaped whenever Rowan started running his mouth or Mason insisted the table was crooked because the universe hated him personally. The noise around me became pleasantly meaningless, the kind that dulled disappointment without asking permission.

Somewhere between beer pong and a game that involved balancing a bottle on the edge of a table while everyone shouted contradictory instructions, I caught myself glancing toward the front door. It wasn't intentional, but my eyes simply kept  drifting there, lingering for a second, then returned to whatever ridiculous challenge the boys had dragged me into. 

Ten minutes later it happened again,then again. Every single time, disappointment settled quietly in my stomach before I could stop it. What the hell are you doing? I asked myself, irritated enough to take another drink simply to silence the question. If Bonehead showed up, good for him. If he didn't, even better. That was exactly how I wanted it... wasn't it?

"Captain!"

A ping-pong ball bounced off my shoulder before dropping onto the floor.

"The game's over here, lover boy!"

The table erupted into laughter.

I flipped Mason off without hesitation, earning an even louder chorus of cheers before picking up the ball and launching it straight into his chest.

"Keep talking."

"Oh, he's grumpy."

"No," Rowan said dramatically, pretending to study my face. "That's not grumpy. That's the face of a man looking for somebody."

"I was looking for another beer."

"Liar."

"I literally have one."

"Exactly," Rowan laughed. "You're running out."

The conversation moved on almost instantly, but not before I caught Rowan watching me for a fraction longer than everyone else. There was something oddly knowing about the look he gave me, as though he'd noticed far more than I wanted anyone to notice. Before I could question it, somebody challenged me to another round, and the room exploded into shouting all over again.

Hours slipped away unnoticed. The mansion only grew louder as more people arrived, while others surrendered to alcohol and passed out wherever they happened to be sitting. Somebody had started singing terribly in the living room. Another group had moved outside with portable speakers. The air itself felt heavy with laughter, music and the unmistakable smell of beer. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this drunk, and judging by the way the floor swayed whenever I stood still for too long, I was well past the point where making sensible decisions was even an option.

Eventually my head began pounding hard enough to drown out the music.

"I'm tapping out," I muttered, rubbing at my temples.

"You?" Mason stared as though I'd announced my retirement.

"The great Kieran Ashcroft admits defeat?"

"It's called self-preservation."

"It's called being old."

"I'm twenty-two."

"Exactly."

The idiots laughed while I shoved him lightly out of my way and headed toward the staircase, ignoring the chorus of exaggerated boos following behind me.

 upstairs was almost silent compared to the madness below. The music became little more than a dull vibration beneath my feet, replaced instead by long hallways lined with identical doors and expensive artwork I was far too drunk to appreciate. My vision blurred every time I blinked, and by the third door I could barely remember why I'd even come upstairs. 

Sleep; that was it. Just twenty minutes, maybe thirty, then I'd go back downstairs... probably.

I tried one door, but it was  locked. Then, the next; it was a bathroom.

The third handle turned easily beneath my hand.

"Jackpot," I mumbled to absolutely nobody.

The room beyond was dark except for the faint glow of moonlight spilling through enormous windows. It smelled clean, strangely familiar, carrying hints of cedar, fresh linen and something else I couldn't quite place. My alcohol-soaked brain barely registered any of it. I kicked my shoes off somewhere near the door, shrugged out of my jacket and collapsed face-first onto the bed with a groan that disappeared into the pillow.

The mattress was far too comfortable.

I buried my face deeper into it, breathing in that same oddly familiar scent again. It tugged at something buried so deep inside me that I almost reached for it, almost recognised it, but exhaustion was quicker than memory. My eyes slipped shut before I could make sense of the feeling, and within seconds the darkness swallowed me whole.

Downstairs, somewhere beyond the music and laughter...The front door opened.