"I can. Spank bank material." Harper snorted. "Can we please go back to the pleasant-smelling side of the house before I catch chlamydia?" With no response to her accusation about my brother's STD status, I followed her to the cheery, light yellow, clean solace of my bedroom. Curiosity swam in her eyes. "Soooo…." She extended the 'o' sound in the dead air space between us. "I want the football asshole details. And don't look at me like that. You've only shared snippets, you tease." "I'm not a tease." I crossed my arms and huffed, unaware I was wearing a look. "He was more self-absorbed than a sponge." "That bad, hmm?" she asked, settling down under my blanket pile. "You said he was hot, so the better question is: Do you like him?" Did I? Apparently, extreme asshole attention made me delusional. And gooey over a pair of ocean blue eyes. They were pretty, but he was awful. The shiniest apple could be rotten to the core. Being torn between being flattered and disgusted was quite a mindfuck. I wasn't prepared to unpack why I hadn't felt any uneasiness with him. His arrogance was a focal point, but he carried himself with a laidback, pressure-but-no-pressure vibe. Until I almost crawled on his lap, his only touch was countless shoulder bumps. "What's there to like?" I rolled my lower lip under my teeth. "He probably already bragged to his friends about sleeping with me." "So, unblock him and find out." I held back Logan's confession that he wanted to see me. His 'date' motives were as clear as mud, but I wasn't ready for her opinion on that subject. "I don't care." "Compared to the alternative?" Harper's eyebrows raised. "Can't be worse than no-game Meade." Prompted by my unimpressed look, her voice lowered to a bored, monotonous tone, "Go out with me, Elle." "No." I giggled. Her finger tapped her chin, and she let out a yawn. "At least it wasn't Mister Teeny-Weinie Hip-thruster. If it was, then I'd have an empty can of mace right now." Small victory. "No, thankfully." I sighed and slumped into bed. My body sagged with fatigue, my limbs were heavy, and my muscles ached. The temptation to close my eyes made my eyelids heavy, but my phone buzzed with a text. "I need to pick up Jake." She offered a sheepish smile. "And I need to make my curfew." A frown creased her forehead until darkness hung over the humming street lights. "You sure you're okay," she said. A breeze lifted a few blonde strands across her cheek, which she ignored and palmed her hips. "Let me call Dad and see if I can break curfew." "Technically, you're grounded… for breaking curfew," I reminded her. "I don't like you going to a party alone." A wistful tone slipped in between her words. "When you told me-" "I'll be fine." I cut her off with a raised hand. Bringing up the nightmare was the opposite of what I wanted – sleep. "I'll grab Jake and leave." She cast two pools of doubt in my direction. "Text me when you're home, Elle." "I will." I chewed on my lower lip as the drive through Santa Cruz blurred into oblivion. A green light illuminated the top of the dashboard and my knuckles as I turned on Harrison Street. Radio music hummed while overhead street lamps flashed rhythmic beams across my windshield. By the second block, my eyes drooped, my shoulders slumped, and my back rounded over the steering wheel. Where was it? A few teenagers appeared on the sidewalk, so I slowed down. A head-on collision wasn't the most effective way to find Jake. The sidewalk traffic thickened in front of a split-level house. The air vibrated with party music bass and lawn dart bodies laid across the front yard. A guy peed on the mailbox, and no part of me wanted to know why the bushes to the left of the front door shook. Inside, bass beats vibrated my bones. I paused in a front foyer packed shoulder-to-shoulder with unfamiliar, loud, and sweaty people. My tiptoes were no help as I looked for my brother. At 6-4 with a frame built like a tank, Jake should be easy to spot. Tiptoeing from room to room, I wrinkled my nose and squeezed through. Some people danced but most engaged in groping sessions. Booze mixed with marijuana polluted the air. Random clusters of people yelled over the music, smoked, or drank to their heart's content. A few people slept in random spots, on wall corners, or impersonated floor speed bumps. Déjà-vu struck me at the base of the stairs. The mental jolt stopped me in my tracks. My mind clicked back to the doorway of another party house. My eyes were wide and curious until they locked on his. He was standing near the kitchen. The living room space around me included tan carpets, dark red curtains, and brown sofas. Instead of the warm honey-toned brown eyes that lured me in as bait laid upon a trap, tonight, I saw… Nothing. Including no Jake. Ten minutes later and a trip outside, still no Jake. Fuck. I groaned up at the night sky, then weeded back inside. We kissed while sitting on the stairs. I pushed down the memory and lifted a shaky hand to the banister, squeezing it to ground my reeling brain. In one embarrassing bedroom check after another, I interrupted couples in various mid-sex stages. I shut each door with heated cheeks and mumbled apologies. Hopefully, none of them remember that I barged in. Discomfort slithered over me the more rooms I checked. The hairs on the back of my neck and forearms raised goosebumps. A throb ran up the sides of my neck and into my ears. A tightness in my chest constricted my breath, and my palms turned cold and damp. Where was Jake? One bedroom I wish I hadn't checked included an intertwined pair of coherent and consensual participants. A tall, leggy blonde knelt on the bed. Large hands caressed her bare back while she straddled a tall, blonde-haired boy with broad shoulders. His name croaked out of the back of my throat. "Kieran!?" I clamped a palm over my mouth. Why did I say anything? Why hadn't I closed the door like a silent, creepy stalker? Gawd, he was as rotten as the others. When his hands moved to her breasts, the blonde's head turned, and she smirked over her shoulder. My heart sank at her flashing blue-gray eyes. "Camille." My fingers around the door knob were all that tethered me from going postal on her. Could this day get any fucking worse!? Was Ryder here too? "Shit, Elle!" Kieran cursed with wide eyes. "It's not what it looks like." Yeah, whenever anyone said that? It was exactly what it looked like. "Save it for someone who gives a fuck." I slammed the door and squeezed my eyes. There wasn't enough eye bleach in Santa Cruz to unsee that.