“Blondie?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

The guy has the good sense to look sheepish. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure what your name is. One of the guys pointed you out on the quad yesterday, but they won’t actually defy Dawson and tell me. The one day I miss practice…” He rolls his eyes.

“You’re friends with Jace?” I ask. The mere sound of his name sends a ripple of annoyance through me.

The guy grins. “We were freshman year roommates. I was planning to play soccer, but he talked me into trying out as kicker instead. Dawson is pretty persistent.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

He laughs at my dry sarcasm. “I’m Joe, by the way, but everyone calls me Anderson.”

“I’m Vivienne—Vivienne Rhodes.”

Anderson smirks. “I knew they were full of it.”

The confusion must be clear on my face.

“One of the guys told me your name was Violet, but I was pretty certain he was messing with me.”

“The guys?”

“The team,” Anderson clarifies. “I told them I was going to invite you anyway, and they tried to get creative to stop me from asking you and pissing Dawson off. No one wants to deal with his moods or risk our undefeated season. Well, except for me, cause I think this is funny as hell.”

“You completely lost me,” I admit.

Anderson laughs again. “Just come to the blue house on Fourth Street tonight. Number thirty-four. Any time after eleven.”

“Why are inviting me to a football event the football team doesn’t want me to attend?” I ask, perplexed.

“Oh, they want you to attend,” Anderson replies confidently. “They’re just listening to Dawson.”

“You’re inviting me to an event Jace asked the whole team not to invite me to?” I’m still confused and also miffed.

“Event,” Anderson scoffs. “It’s a party. But aside from that detail, yes, you’ve pretty much got all the main points.”

I open my mouth to question him further, but just then, his phone rings. He pulls it out and glances at the screen.

“I’ve got to get this.” He starts to back away. “Remember, blue house on Fourth Street!” he calls out before turning and walking back the way he came.

“Do you know anything about a football party tonight?” I ask Katie when I return to our shared room from the library.

“Yeah, it’s the first one of the season,” she replies. “The girls behind me in Psych spent class yesterday planning their outfits. They’re arriving at nine so they can at least make it onto the lawn.”

“What?” I ask, totally confused.

“I forget that you’re still new to all of Lincoln’s traditions,” Katie tells me. She stands up from her desk chair and moves over to her unmade bed, flopping down onto it. “Okay, so the football team is treated like they’re the shit, right?”

“Right,” I reply.

“So, during the season, their schedule is super intense, but they throw a few parties during it when there’s a bye, or a major win. Everyone wants to go, but the house can only hold a couple hundred people, so you have to be invited by a player to actually get inside. Everybody else just hangs around outside, hoping to get a last-minute invite or at least be able to say that they went. Last year, I went to one and two girls got into a fight on the front lawn over which of them would sneak in through the window to Jace Dawson’s room. You know who he is now, right?”