CH2

Azalea glanced at her reflection in the mirror, eyeing the outfit she'd picked out. The green dress she had originally considered was absolutely ridiculous, so she tossed it aside in favor of something bolder—a red one that at least made her feel like she was in control. She wasn't thrilled about tagging along to Jett's dumb frat party, but she figured it was better to play nice, especially since Jackson had her schedule. She needed that schedule—desperately—since classes started tomorrow and she was already behind on a few things.

And if that wasn't enough, after the whole pool fiasco, Azalea had to track Jackson down again to ask which books she needed for her classes. It was like having a damn parrot on her shoulder for the rest of the day, him repeating the same thing over and over just to get under her skin.

"Oh, come on, Azie," he had said, that smirk still plastered on his face. "This is just me having fun."

She'd rolled her eyes. "No, actually, this is you trying to annoy me, which is extremely childish."

"...let's see how you get the rest of your books."

"I thought you cared about my degree." She poured.

"Fine, but we have Chem together so we're sharing books." Jackson walked off with a smile and she sneered.

"I'm going to fucking kill him."

The door creaked open, pulling Azalea out of her thoughts. She looked up to find Jackson standing in the doorway, dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans, his expression a mix of impatience and that usual smugness she could never quite shake off.

"What in the world is taking you so long? Let's go," he said, waving a hand in her direction.

Azalea frowned, setting her brush down with a huff. "Sorry for getting ready."

Jackson flashed a grin, the corners of his mouth curling up in that infuriating way. "You look beautiful, Azie, but the clock's ticking. Let's bounce."

Azalea rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse from the bed, tossing it over her shoulder with a resigned sigh. She really shouldn't have agreed to this. She could've just spent the damn dollar on a new schedule and avoided all the stress Jackson was putting her through. But, it was her last year—her final year. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to slack off just a little bit.

Besides, she had to admit, part of her was curious about Jett's insane parties. The guy was legendary around campus. He'd practically had every freshman and sophomore in heat when he first came to Princeton, turning every party into a wild spectacle. Maybe she could finally see what all the fuss was about.

Jett was the kind of guy who didn't just walk into a room—he owned it. He was the "Chad" Princeton never had but somehow always needed. Now, whenever anyone mentioned Jett Fogger, everyone's ears perked up. It was like hearing a legend's name, and it was the first thing people talked about at the start of every weekend.

Azalea and Jackson finally made it to the school parking lot, and Jackson stopped in front of a car.

"Whose car is this?" Azalea asked, eyeing the sleek, shiny vehicle with raised brows.

Jackson glanced at her like she'd just insulted his firstborn. "What? Mine," he replied, clearly offended by the very question.

"For as long as I've known you, I've never seen you drive a car. Or even get into one, for that matter," Azalea said, eyeing him with suspicion.

Jackson shrugged, as if the whole thing were no big deal. "Well, we do live on campus, so there's not much need for one. But tonight's a different story. It's our little night out, so I figured, why not?" He opened the passenger door for her with a grin.

Azalea hesitated for a second before slipping into the seat. "Uh, okay..." she muttered, not entirely convinced. The door clicked shut, and Jackson was in the car seconds later, starting it up and cranking the AC.

He looked over at her, adjusting the mirrors. "Okay, so since we're only going to be at the party for about an hour, we're hitting McDonald's afterward. I know for sure I'm going to be starving." He gave her a playful grin, obviously already thinking about his post-party meal.

Jackson reversed out, heading to their destination.

"Do you eat anything else aside from McDonald's?"

"Eh, I usually go their for the fries. It's like they're salt is made of crystal meth." He grins. Azalea shook her head at his response and settled down.

It got quiet as they drove. It was peaceful and mindless. After a few minutes of driving Jackson shot her a gaze.

"By the way I like the red."

Azalea tore her gaze from the passing trees and empty road to look at him. She smiles upon seeing his faint smile.

"You really think I was going to fall for that shit again? You had your fun calling me poison Ivy on Halloween. I am not going to give you the satisfaction again."

He grins, taking a right. "I see that you're on your game this year."

Azalea let out a little chuckle, her gaze drifting to the window as the car cruised down the road. "I remember the first time you tried to talk to me," she said, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "The first thing that came out of your mouth was, 'Oh my gosh, you look like Poison Ivy. You should wear green more often.'" She mimicked his voice, causing Jackson to raise an eyebrow.

Azalea continued, "And at the time, I was wearing my green nightdress to bed. And I don't know if you've noticed, but... I never wore green after that."

Jackson shot her a look, trying to stifle a laugh. "Now that you mention it," he said, his smirk widening mischievously, "where is that green nightdress you stopped wearing?"

Azalea rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "I'm not showing you, if that's what you're asking." She shot him a look, knowing full well that he'd never let it go.

"Hey if you're not going to use it then you might as well let me."

"Okay stop talking."

The both of them shared a laugh. She remembers meeting him for the first time at Princeton. He just came to the room one day with bags in his hands.

"Oh, nice. Glad to have a girl as my roomie. Oh my gosh you so look like this character called poison ivy, but like with hazel eyes. Which, you should wear green more often, it suits you. By the way are you a freshman here at Princeton or...?"

No answer.

"Okay, not much of a talker." He glanced around, taking in the room more. "I'm Jackson by the way, nice to meet you."

Azalea closed the book and left the room in silence.

"Okay, tough crowd."

He tried his hardest to get a reaction out of Azalea after that, and the only way he succeeded was by pulling his usual stupid pranks to get under her skin. He'd hide her things, switch her stuff around—anything to get a rise out of her. She never let him off easy, but that was part of the fun for him.

Then, he started hanging out with her on a daily basis, and Azalea quickly learned that he was actually pretty smart. Like, prodigy smart, even if he played it off like he wasn't. And now, thinking about it, they'd spent so much time together, but they never really talked about anything outside of college life. It was always about classes, assignments, professors—never anything personal.

It was always assignments, parties, girls, or food. That's pretty much all they talked about. Outside of that, it was the same routine: they'd stay in their room, eat cafeteria food, or sit under the tree at the far back of campus, getting some work done and chatting about anything except their personal lives.

Up until now, Azalea hadn't even known Jackson owned a car. She stared at him, her thoughts drifting as she found herself wondering more about who he really was outside of school—the person behind all the pranks and sarcastic comments.

Before she could think much further, Jackson pulled the car into a parking spot and killed the engine. "We're here," he said, as if snapping her out of her thoughts. He quickly got out of the car, and Azalea followed, her steps slow as she took in the unfamiliar vibe of the night. Without missing a beat, Jackson wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward the entrance of the party.

"Move your hand before I break it," Azalea snapped, her tone sharp as she shot him a look.

Jackson didn't even flinch. "Did you forget about the deal we made?" he teased. "You're mine for tonight, babe, so I advise you let me do the talking."

Azalea shot him a look, unamused. "Enjoy the hour," she muttered under her breath.

With that, Jackson grinned, clearly amused, and the two of them walked up the pavement, side by side. To be honest, Azalea hadn't expected the party to be this big. It was sprawling, way larger than she'd imagined— and the place had a much more luxurious feel to it than she'd anticipated. Jackson definitely wasn't the broke college kid he liked to pretend he was. He was richer than she thought.

Young adults were scattered around the front of the house, smoking weed, drinking beer, and chatting in loud, carefree conversations. The bass from the music thumped so hard Azalea could feel it vibrating through the ground beneath her feet. She couldn't believe she'd actually let herself get dragged into this—sin central in full swing.

"We're going to have so much fun," Jackson beamed, practically bouncing in place like a kid on their first rollercoaster ride.

Azalea shot him a side-eye as he led her around to the side of the house, earning a few curious looks.

"Don't worry," Jackson said, rolling his eyes at her, "I'm not gonna ask you to shag on the side of the house." He grinned at her reaction. "This is just an easier way inside. If you choose the front door, you'll be standing out there for at least three minutes just to get let in."

Azalea snorted, crossing her arms. "Okay, part analytic," she muttered, unimpressed by his 'practicality.'

The both of them reached the back of the house which is where the pool is, and of course people are already in the pool, making out or just swimming. She noticed a grill and a hot tub on the far left.

Jackson's hand dropped from her shoulder to her wrist and he lead her inside through the sliding door that walks straight into the open kitchen and living room.

Again Azalea was left speechless by how big the space is. She sure there about a hundred students here.

Jackson opened the fridge and took out two cans. One of beer and the other of root beer soda. He flashed them to her and smiled.

"I am going to make your drink. Also, party 101, never leave your cup unattended. And don't let anyone watch it aside from me, okay?"

Azalea watched as he grabbed two red cups from its stack on the marble counter and began filling both cups with the separate drinks.

"I know that, I'm not a kid."

"Just looking out. Wouldn't want to beat anyone to death for my best friend." He smiles and handed her the cup of root beer soda. "It's the root beer," he whispers to her. "Want to make you look cool you know."

Azalea rolled her eyes and took the cup from his hand. "To your first party."

"Hm, to my first party... technically." She dinked his cup and took a sip. The both of them held each other's stare with a smile. Azalea didn't know what it was, but she was sure his gaze held a look of admiration.

"Oh my gosh, Jackson?"

Jackson arched an eyebrow and turned around to see none other than Megan strolling up. Azalea instinctively took a step back, leaning against the counter. Someone passed by, reaching for a bag of chips displayed alongside a bunch of other snacks, but Azalea barely noticed, her attention fixed on the girl who had just appeared.

"Oh, Megan, hi," Jackson said casually, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Hi," Megan grinned, looking like she had just stepped out of a glossy magazine. She was wearing a pink dress that barely skimmed her thighs, clear heels that made her legs go on for days, and her makeup was flawless. Everything about her screamed Barbie—the kind of girl who was always on the hunt for her Ken.

"Liking the hair," Jackson said, gesturing to Megan's new platinum locs.

Megan chuckled, running a hand through her hair. "Thanks," she said, flicking the shiny locs over her shoulder. "It was a last-minute decision. I was looking like strawberry ice cream dipped in yellow paint earlier, so... I had to do something." She laughed, clearly pleased with her new look.

Priscillia had to assist the girl with dying her hair and it came out pretty good.

"Thanks, I did it earlier. A girl can never be too prepared for a party."

"Totally."

Azalea glanced on the outside when she heard a splash. Apparently someone just cannonballed into the pool from the roof.

"Want to head upstairs for a bit?" Megan bit her bottom lip, taunting the boy with the look of seduction. Jackson stared at her, studying her features.

Her dark green eyes flickered from his mouth back to his eyes. She pressed her body into his, wanting him to get a good whiff of that strawberry cheesecake perfume she bought earlier.

Jackson smirks, taking a sip from his cup. The blond has no idea how he does it but everything about him, his demeanor, his looks, the dimple that shows every time he smiles, laughs or smirks, him being smart. Everything about him drew her to him.

And after that night at Quincy she had to get him as hers. Megan trailed her hands under his shirt and kissed him.

Jackson stopped her and set his cup down. "Sorry to disappoint you, Megan but, tonight isn't about me."

Jackson wiped his mouth and stepped away from her. He grabbed Azie by the hand and dragged her out of the kitchen.

"Okay, what do you want to do first?" He asks. Azalea shrugs.

"It's a party. There's just drinking, drugs, dancing, having sex and causing pure chaos in the pool," she sums up.

"Why do you make it sound boring when you say it out loud?"

"It's the norm, Jackson, you of all people should know that."

"Okay fine, play me in a game of beer pong. I can hold my liquor."

She stops, looking at him. "I'm not drinking."

"Just one game," Jackson said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Ten cups. Five filled with soda, the other five with the strongest alcohol in this place. If you can make it past all of your soda cups, you win, and you get to dare me. But if I finish all of my alcohol cups first, I get to dare you."

Azalea paused, considering the challenge. The idea of outdrinking Jackson sounded both tempting and risky. After a moment, she smirked. "Fine. I think I could get you to drink all of your beer cups."

"Dare pong it is, then," Jackson grinned, extending his pinky.

Azalea raised an eyebrow, but without hesitation, she hooked her pinky with his, sealing the deal. "You're on."