She examines it for all of four seconds, before handing it back to me and spinning on her heel to fetch the drinks. It’s Friday night in Pullman, meaning this place is packed wall to wall with drunk, horny college kids. I’m not the first fake ID of the night, and I certainly won’t be the last.

I’m here tonight with my buddies, Branson, Knox, and Weston. We all just finished our first week in our second year of college at Washington State University. The first week of each semester is usually chill, but we’re coming out tonight to let out some steam anyway.

“Here ya go, hun. Want me to start a tab?”

“Please. Thanks.” Handing me the beers, she winks at me before turning her attention to the next customer in line.

I make my way back to the table. We’re posted up in the back of the bar. The perfect spot for people watching—my favorite pastime in places like this. Weaving through the bodies littering the dance floor and walkway, I finally make it to the table without bumping into anyone or spilling the beers.

That’s a win in my book.

“Here.” I give Knox and Weston their beers. Branson is our designated driver for the night, so he’s nursing an ice water. We normally go to a bar closer to campus, but we felt like a change in scenery tonight, so we’re at a dive bar just outside of town called Reggie’s. There’s live music doing metal band covers right now, and they don’t sound half bad.

“Thanks, man,” Knox mumbles before tipping back the bottle and guzzling half of it in one go.

“Yeah, thanks,” Weston says, lifting his bottle in the air before taking a swig.

“No problem.” Bringing the bottle up to my lips, I take a long pull, loving the way the crisp, ice-cold beer feels going down my throat. “How’s everyone’s classes so far?”

“Not bad,” Knox replies, his attention turned toward the dance floor. Probably watching some chick.

“My professors seem much nicer than last year,” Weston murmurs. “So, that’s good. How about you, man?”

“Good! I was able to snag two different English classes this semester, English 201 and creative writing,” I state with a smile. “Pretty cool, I think.”

“You’re such a nerd.” Knox laughs. “How are you a fucking frat guy, but a nerd too?”

All my friends were shocked when I pledged. According to them, you can’t be smart and enjoy school, while also being in a frat. Who knew? “I don’t know, man. Guess I’m just special.” Flipping him off, I bring my attention back to the swarm of people dancing—more like grinding—in the center of the room.