"We all helped each other," I remind him.

"You're saying I'm not your favourite study buddy?" He sticks his bottom lip out and I fight a smile.

Is it wrong to be smug that Nate Campbell wants to spend time with me? We've spent a few sessions together alone now, and my guard against him drops more with each meeting. He's an ordinary guy, in an extraordinary way. Ordinary because, despite his rising star, he's little different to other guys on campus. Extraordinary because Nate's good-looking and confident, and manages to charm his way around anybody. Including me. But this is more than me falling for his spin; when I'm with Nate there's an underlying s.e.xual tension I never expected and not because he tries.

I enjoy Nate's company and look forward to our time together which is something I'll never admit to him or anybody. Silly Fleur, falling for a Campbell. Nate's more than people see or I think he is but he's not the guy for me.

His phone beeps and he immediately grabs it. This time the message turns Nate's expectant look into a smile. "Awesome. Finally!"

I bristle. "No, my favourite study buddy studies, and isn't distracted by their phone." My message alert sounds too and I fight the urge to pull it from my bag.

"Of course." My phone beeps again. "Aren't you going to see who that is?"

"It can wait." Ethan. I'm waiting for a message from Ethan. But I need to prove a point to Nate.

"My time's up. I have to go." Nate turns his phone around. 7 p.m. "So you're allowed to look at yours now."

"I can wait. We're not all obsessed by technology."

"Okay." His amused smile irritates. "Catch you later."

"Goodbye, Nate."

The moment the door clicks shut behind him, I pull my phone out. When I see Ethan's name on screen my heart skips. And when I read the message that he wants to meet me in the union, my evening changes from frustrating to fabulous.

"Knew it!"

I look up sharply at Nate standing in the doorway. "What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just checking." With one more big grin I'd prefer to smack off his face, Nate leaves.

8.

WILL.

Beer will help.

And getting laid.

A few months back, I lived the dream, hot chicks landing in my lap every night as I rode the Blue Phoenix train. Perform, get wasted, party, girl, rinse, and repeat. Being a.s.sociated with Blue Phoenix was the biggest aphrodisiac ever.

Now, back to uni, girls don't conveniently disappear after one night. Nate learned quicker than me to slow down; he had a chick borderline obsessed after he did the love 'em and leave 'em thing and she didn't accept the 'leave 'em' part.

Since Jax lowered his profile, we have less of an entourage than last year. Not performing also keeps us off the radar. Still, we have a fan base and once a week, Nate organises a night out with a few of them. So, yeah, getting laid is top of my list.

"Hey, man!" calls Nate as I head into our usual corner of the student union.

Several tables are pushed together below a low Perspex roof, enough distance from the music speakers to be able to speak but not too far on the edge. I puff air into my cheeks as I look over. My time with Fleur has eaten into my drinking time; this group has a volume louder than anybody else around, and a lot more empty gla.s.ses on the table.

Won't take me long to catch up.

I approach and pull out one of the cheap chrome chairs to sit. Nate has his arm around a girl. Cute. Blonde. Can't take her eyes off him.

"Hey," I mutter.

The blonde girl turns as I speak and her eyes widen. She drags her gaze between us. "You're the same!"

Looking at her drunken eyes, I conclude we'd look the same to her even if we were the opposite s.e.x.

"Erin," says Nate and gestures, arm over her shoulder.

"Nice," I mouth as Erin looks away and drinks.

Nate grins.

I size up the other chicks around the table. Some are with guys, but two or three aren't.

Awesome.

Half an hour later, a first year who regales me with theories of what our lyrics mean, and how she 'f.u.c.king loves' us, edges closer. The beer flows and I relax, enjoying the attention, pretty sure this chick is up for a trip to my bed.

The union has filled in the time we've sat with our audience and I screw my face up as I look at the throng between us and the bar. The group at the table grows, and plans form what we'll do later.

"Nate! Your round!" I call above the increasing noise.

"Aren't we going back to ours?" he calls back.

"Yes!" enthuses his blonde friend. "Seriously, so cool."

I shake my head. "Nah. Club tonight; go on. I feel like a lot of noise and a lot of dancing."

Nate arches a brow. "Slow down with the beers then."

"I have catching up to do."

Nate unwinds the girl's arm from around his neck and pushes his chair back, reaching into his pocket for his wallet as he heads to the bar. Most would edge around the groups; Nate ploughs straight through the middle. I shake my head at his arrogance, but most people step out of his way.

I rest my arms over the seat back and take a closer look at the girl with me. I could do with some attention right now; have my ego stroked. Amongst other things.

I look back to where Nate's heading.

Fleur.

c.r.a.p.

Has he seen her? I'm drunk, edging towards wasted, and my brain isn't functioning. Nate isn't far behind, I've lost count of the number of beers we've had.

Not good.

I hope to h.e.l.l he recognises Fleur and doesn't say anything to her.

Fleur's with the guy from the library the Mr. Perfect, shiny guy. She's holding his hand, and his other is on her a.s.s. As if that's not bad enough, the guy is checking out every other chick who walks past, even though Fleur can't take her eyes off him.

My head hurts with a rush of anger and I blink. Calm the f.u.c.k down, Will. Not my problem.

I shake my head, but the world doesn't right itself again. My evening is about to become complicated.

FLEUR.

I forget that 'quiet drink' and 'student union' aren't phrases that match at this time on a Friday; no wonder Ethan looked surprised when I suggested it. Hardly the best place to chat. We've met up a few times in the last couple of weeks, usually a coffee after cla.s.s where conversation has stuck to the subjects we both study. Today at the library, he asked me out for a drink.

Friday night out and a drink.

When he curls an arm around me and places his hand on my a.s.s, I'm torn between telling him to let go and allowing myself to be seen as his. Not like he's squeezing or groping, just resting his hand. I can live with that. The time I've spent l.u.s.ting over this guy allows this.

Every time I've sat with Ethan and talked about the reunion of Germany or our dissertation topics, I've stared at the soft, blonde hair on his arms, wanting to stroke him, or fixated on his full mouth imagining how he kisses. A hand on my a.s.s is one step closer to his mouth on mine.

"Meeting some friends later," he says, breath against my face as he talks straight into my ear.

My excitement wanes. "Oh, right."

"Sorry, boy's night, but we can catch up tomorrow?"

"Sure."

Ethan turns on his dazzling smile, straight white teeth and dimples. Oh G.o.d, he has dimples. "I wanted to see you though, before I went out. Don't want you thinking I'd stand you up."

"No, it's fine."

"So, what are you having?"

"Just a beer."

"You got it."

I appreciatively stare at Ethan's backside as he stands at the bar until I'm distracted by a guy of a similar height standing next to him. The twins aren't the only students rocking their image, but something about how they pull it off outshines the others. Will or Nate? I stiffen.

He's a similar height and build to Ethan, but that's where the similarity ends. To Ethan, grunge is what you'd find in the plughole attracting more grossness; to my rock star friend, it's a natural state of being that attracts girls.

Fine, I see why; I haven't failed to notice that if they took some metal out of their skin and tidied themselves up they'd be hot as h.e.l.l. Okay, many think they already are, but mismatching clothes with torn arms don't scream s.e.xy to me. No thanks. Ethan's smart blue shirt stretching across his broad shoulders. Yes, please.

I haven't seen Will since his d.i.c.khead performance at the party. As soon as he turns around, I'll be able to tell which twin this is by the expression on his face.

"Nate, man!" A blond guy approaches and claps him on the back. "I timed that awesomely. Mine's a pint."

Nate turns his head and says something to his friend and they have a conversation I can't hear, where Nate indicates a different part of the building. Nodding, the blond guy wanders off.

Nate turns around holding several beer bottles by the neck in each hand. As he notices me, I smile. "Hey."

Nate's eyes widen and he nods. "Hey."

"Your message was about a night out too, huh?"

"Um. Yeah."

I swear he's about to step away from me. Nate was weird when we were alone before, but now he refuses to look me in the eye.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, good. You?"

"Good."

"Right." Nate inclines his head in the direction his friend went then holds up the beers. "Gotta go."

Before I can summon a response, he pushes through the bodies. Rude, much? Okay, so we're not best friends; but up until tonight, we chat. Am I too uncool to be seen talking to? Worried people will think we're an item?

Ethan turns too. "You okay?"

"Fine. Thanks for the beer."

One of the hottest guys I know is giving me attention, so why am I p.i.s.sed off that Nate practically ignored me? I'm his equal. Who cares if he's famous these days? He can't be nice to me only when he feels like it to get what he wants. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d is using me. He's as bad as his brother.

WILL.

I chew on a nail as Nate approaches. He spoke to Fleur.

f.u.c.k.

When Nate sets my beer down in front of me, he flashes me a look and shakes his head. "Your friend spoke to me."

"What did you say to her?" I shift away from the girl next to me and lower my voice.

"Nothing. h.e.l.lo, basically; I didn't know what the f.u.c.k to say!"

"Do you think she noticed?"