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After We Collided (After, #2) by Anna Todd Read Online (FREE)

Tristan begins to put the cups back into a triangular formation that reminds me of bowling pins. “Are you going to play?” he asks.

“I guess. I don’t know how, though,” I tell him.

“Who wants to be her partner?” Tristan asks.

I feel foolish when no one speaks up. Great. I knew this was—

“Zed?” Tristan says, interrupting my thoughts.

“Er . . . I don’t know . . .” Zed responds, not looking at me. He’s been avoiding me the entire time that I’ve been here.

“Just one round, man.”

Zed’s caramel eyes flicker to me quickly before moving back to Tristan and giving in. “Okay, yeah, one game.” He comes and stands next to me, and we both stay there silently as Steph fills the cups with the alcohol.

“These cups have been used all night?” I ask her, trying to hide my disgust at multiple mouths drinking from them.

“It’s fine.” She laughs. “The alcohol kills the germs!”

I notice Zed smile out of the corner of my eye, but when I look at him, he looks away. Yup, this is going to be a long game.


chapter fifty-seven


Just toss it across the table into any of those cups, and they have to drink the cup that the ball lands into. Whichever team knocks out all the other’s cups wins,” Tristan explains.

“Wins what?” I ask.

“Uh, nothing. You just don’t get drunk as fast because you don’t have to drink as many cups.”

I’m about to point out that a drinking game where the winner gets less to drink seems counter to the party mentality, when Steph shouts, “I’ll go first!” She playfully rubs the small white ball against Tristan’s shirt before blowing on it and tossing it across the table. It bounces off the lip of the front cup before rolling into the cup behind it.

“You want to drink first?” Zed asks.

“Sure.” I shrug and lift the cup.

When Tristan tosses the next ball across the table, he misses. It falls to the floor, and Zed picks it up, dipping it into the lone glass of water on our side. So that’s what that is for. It’s hardly sanitary, but this is a college party . . . what do I really expect?

“Yeah, I’m the one who sucks,” Steph taunts Tristan, who only smiles at her.

“You go first,” Zed instructs.

My first attempt at playing beer—well, cherry-vodka-sour—pong seems to be going well, given that I make my first four shots in a row. My jaw hurts from smiling and giggling at my opponents, and my blood is singing from the liquor and the fact that I love to be successful at things, even college drinking games.

“You’ve played this before! I know you have!” Steph accuses me with a hand on her hip.

“No, I’m just skilled.” I laugh.

“ ‘Skilled’?”

“Don’t be jealous of my killer peer dong skills,” I say, and everyone within a five-foot radius bursts into laughter.

“Oh Lord! Please do not say ‘skills’ again!” Steph says, and I hold my stomach while I try to stop laughing. This game was a better idea than I thought. The large amount of alcohol I’ve consumed helps, and I feel carefree. Young and carefree.