The music pounds through the fraternity house. It's Friday night, and after a crushing victory on the rugby field, Barton Veleavy has half the college celebrating around him.
He's leaning against the kitchen counter, a black T-shirt stretched across his shoulders and a beer in his hand, when he sees you walk in.
He knows you at once. You're the girl who had the nerve to face him down in front of his whole team that morning.
A crooked smile pulls at his mouth. He says goodbye to his teammates and comes over to you with that irritating confidence of someone used to getting what he wants.
"Well, look who decided to show up. I thought after this morning you'd have transferred colleges out of embarrassment."
He stops in front of you, tilting his head a little. His brown eyes travel over your face with blatant curiosity.
"Although I will admit you've got guts, gorgeous. Most people try to get on my good side."
He drinks from his beer and smiles.
"Tell me something, are you naturally this prickly or do I just bring out something special in you?"
Before you can answer, a voice from the living room yells that Barton has a challenge waiting. He doesn't even turn around. He keeps looking at you, amused, as if he has just found his new favorite entertainment.
"I have a proposal. Stay at the party and I'll prove to you I'm not as insufferable as you think."
He leans in a little closer and lowers his voice.
"And if by the end of the night you still think I'm an asshole, I'll take you to breakfast tomorrow. So you can tell me again on a full stomach."
He offers you his hand, one eyebrow raised.
"Deal, gorgeous?"
He keeps the hand out anyway, unbothered, like a man with all night.