It turns out that the parties at the football house were famous for a reason. Even I, who came against my own will and planned on leaving early, was having fun. Jay and Sam, two freshmen, joined our corner in the living room and I watched Trevor flirt heavily with Jane.

It wasn't so bad, either. The DJ in the other room was playing good music and there were white Christmas tree lights strung around the ceiling of the room. I had good company and had yet to see Max or Vincent, so things were going particularly well.

"I love this song," Jane gushes the second a familiar song starts playing. "Lily, come dance with me."

Before I can make an excuse as to why I couldn't go squeeze between all those people just so I can dance, Trevor perks up. "I want to dance. I'll come with you."

I can't hold my smirk back even though I should've been discouraging his behavior. But Trevor was too cute sometimes and Jane was clearly enjoying his company. She smiles genuinely and leans forward to grab his hand. "Okay, then let's go."

As Jane dragged Trevor out to the dance floor, I caught sight of Max walking into the room. His back was toward me as he talked to a few other seniors on the team and I took the moment as an opportunity to go to the bathroom and escape the room for a few minutes. He'll probably be gone by the time I get back, anyway.

"Hey guys," I interrupt Andrew's conversation with JD and Wallace. "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be back."

JD asks kindly, "Do you want one of us to come?"

Admittedly, I was flattered by his concern, but I still smirked. "Do you think that anyone is going to try anything to me here?"

The false confidence in my voice was enough to sway the boys, and Andrew gave me a solid nod before I turned around to find my way. "There's a bathroom upstairs. Second door on the left."

I waved at him while I walked away as a thank you. Luckily, there was some truth in my assertion, because people let me through as easily as they'd let Jane through. Apparently enough people knew who I was and didn't bother me while I walked through the living room, hallway, and up the stairs.

I opened the first door on the left and was quickly greeted with a prompt, "Get out!" And a girl screech. I shut the door quickly and practically threw myself into the next room and hoped that I could rid that horrible scene from my memory. When I shut the door behind me, I promptly locked it, and let out a breath.

"Lily?" An annoyingly familiar voice asks gruffly behind me and I tense. "What are you doing in here?"

I turn around slowly and see Vincent sitting in the tub. His long legs were drawn close to his chest and he looked horribly out of place. I freeze as my gaze washes over his slightly red eyes and, for the first time, I notice how tired and intoxicated he was.

"I just wanted to get a breath of fresh air," I excuse lamely.

His eyebrows raise in amusement. "So you came into the bathroom?"

"It doesn't matter," I wave him off and take a step closer to the tub hesitantly. "Are you okay? Why are you in the bathtub?"

Vincent's eyes darken and I knew that he finally remembered our last conversation. He narrowed his eyes at me and tried to sit up in the tub. "Why do you care?" He asks sharply. "I thought I was just a self centered athlete."

Immediately, I realized that I had been too harsh on Vincent. The reality slapped me in the face and I suddenly regretted some of the words that had escaped my mouth. Even though he pissed me off more times than not and had an entirely too big ego, he wasn't horrible. But he was... Decent. Kind of.

I kept my mouth shut tightly for a long moment because I didn't want to say the words I would inevitably have to spit out. "I'm sorry," I finally sigh. "I was being judgmental."

"That's one word for it," Vincent mutters as he glares at his knees.

Very hesitantly, I sat down on the edge of the bathtub, and Vincent finally looked at me. His eyes were dull without a flicker of emotion that gave him away. "Now that we've established the obvious," I mutter and lift my gaze back to his steadily. "Why are you sitting in tub of the upstairs bathroom at the football house alone?"

Never did I ever think that I'd be saying that. But I guess there's a first for everything, right?

Vincent blows air out of his mouth dejectedly. "Reasons," He snaps. "It doesn't matter. Why are you still here?"

"Reasons," I repeat thoughtfully with a nod. "Interesting. Mind sharing some of these reasons?"

I could tell that he was just trying to push me away with his anger. Besides, he was pretty drunk, and I was sure that he would break any moment now. It's not like I had anything better to do considering that Max was hanging around downstairs and I was trying to wait him out.

And I was right. A moment later, Vincent slumps down in the tub again, and goes back to glaring at the faucet. "It's family stuff. Nothing that I care to talk about right now."

His voice was exhausted and instantly made me back off. I nodded silently in respect of his privacy as an exotic, gnawing feeling implored me to make him feel better. He clearly wasn't happy if he was spending the party in the tub instead of- and I quote Trevor- flirting with a sorority girl.

I don't know why I cared to make him feel a little better. Maybe it was the guilt I felt for judging him too harshly earlier and snapping at him at the game. Maybe I knew he wasn't the obnoxious monster I painted him out to be. Maybe he actually has a heart.

Without thinking much, as I usually do when I get a twinge nervous, I start to ramble. "Do you know that Trevor has the hots for Jane?" I blurt randomly. "He practically drools whenever she looks in his direction."

"Jane your friend?" Vincent asks roughly. "She's hot." His hazy eyed gaze lifts to meet mine and a tiny smirk appears on his lips. "You're hotter."

Instinctively, I roll my eyes at him. "You want to know how I know when you're drunk?" I smile wryly at him. "Because you compliment me."

Vincent just shrugs innocently. "Aren't you going to compliment me back?"

My smile turns wider as I look at him thoughtfully. "Vincent, I would have sex with you," His eyes widen and glimmer with something that resembled drunken hope. "If you were the last man on the planet and being lesbian really wasn't working out."

Surprisingly, Vincent recovers by cracking a smile and chuckling. He grins at me. "I didn't hear anything after you said you'd fuck me."

Despite myself, I couldn't help but feel something in me shift at his words, which somehow sounded sexier with the rough edge to his tired voice. I pushed the thought away and shake my head at him incredulously in an attempt to mask what I was really feeling.

"So," I give him an overly fake smile. "Are you ready to get out of the bathtub and return to the party?"

Vincent's smile fades into a groan. "I don't want to party."

"What do you want?" I ask with a huff. For some reason, I felt responsible for his wellbeing, and I didn't want to leave until I knew he was fine.

"Sleep," He sighs heavily. "I live in Holt."

Holt was the dormitory behind mine and it was a ways away. Luckily, the busses were still running, and one will take us a block away from our dorms. I stand up and glance down at the attractive quarterback sprawled in the bathtub, looking half asleep and half adorably lost.

"Fine," I concede. "I'll walk you back."

I couldn't believe my moral standards required that I took care of the drunk boy. Regardless, I help him scramble to his feet and we finally leave the bathroom. We instantly drew attention to ourselves when Vincent Bradshaw came stumbling out of the locked bathroom with me.

Vincent, however, seemed immune to the stares and whispers and pointed fingers. He just grabbed my wrist and began dragging me down the hallway and the steps. When we reached the base of the steps, I tugged him to a stop and forced him to turn around.

"I need to say bye to Jane and the guys," I tell him loudly over the music. "Follow me."

I don't want for a verbal confirmation before I turn around and start back toward the living room. Much like earlier, people glanced in my direction and seemed to move over so I could get through. I held back a smug smirk at the special treatment I got here.

I pinpointed Andrew and made my way over to him fairly easily. Drew lifted his gaze to meet mine from across the room, and when his eyes slid to look behind me, his brow furrowed together. I knew it was because I was with the very boy that he was supposed to keep away from me.

I reach the group of guys and grin at them breathlessly. "Hey guys, I'm going to take Vincent back to his room."

JD barked out a laugh, which was quickly silenced upon seeing Vincent standing behind me. "Wait, seriously?"

"He lives in Holt and I'm in Lyons," I explain casually. "We're going the same way, anyway."

I knew why they were so shocked. I hated Vincent and never went out of my way to do anything nice for him. In fact, sometimes I went out of my way to do mean things to him.

To further assure them that this wasn't a big deal, I add, "Wouldn't you rather someone walk back with me, anyway?"

"True," Andrew, the big softie, agrees gruffly. "I don't want you walking across campus alone." He tosses me a fatherly smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lily."

I give him a small smirk and add, "Make sure Trevor gets Jane back alright, will you?"

Andrew smirks back at me by way of an answer and some of the guys chuckle. Everyone was well aware how much Trevor liked Jane.

"See you," Wallace waves at me with a smile.

"Bye Lily," JD mutters, still clearly confused as to why I was helping Vincent. "See you later, Bradshaw."

I turn around to see Vincent give the boys a nod before his gaze slides to me. "Let's go." I tell him with a sense of finality and he turns to walk back through the crowd.

And, of course, everyone parted like the Red Sea the second they saw the legendary Vincent Bradshaw coming. The girls lining the hallways eyed Vincent hungrily and whispered to each other, probably about one night stands they had with him or wish they had with him.

When we finally stepped outside after weaving through the party, I took a deep breath of the crisp night air and savored the freshness. Parties like that one tended to smell like sweat and body odor after awhile. It was nice to smell untainted air.

"Okay," I mutter, mostly to myself, as Vincent glances at me. "We need to go to Cook Street for the bus."

Somewhere inside my head, my internal compass pointed north, and we started walking that way. Vincent followed dutifully behind me with only a slight sway in his step every now and again as we walk past people loitering around outside the house.

It was weird being with quiet Vincent. He's upset about something- family stuff- and he got wickedly drunk to forget about it. And now he was pretty drunk, from what I could tell by his slurred speech and step, and yet he wasn't babbling on about something vulgar.

"Your ass looks incredible in those jeans," Vincent remarks thoughtfully behind me.

Looks like I spoke to soon.

"Don't stare at my ass," I turn around and narrow my eyes at him as his gaze lifts from my behind. I was lucky it was dark out because he couldn't see the warmth coat my cheeks.

His lips quirk into a smirk. "It's a compliment."

I roll my eyes at him and look ahead. We were nearing the street corner where we would turn right and hopefully end up on Cook. I was impressed by my navigational skills despite the fact that I was a little tipsy.

"I can't believe you're coming back to my room with me," Vincent suddenly muses. I can imagine the stupid smirk on his lips. "Who would've thought the day would ever come that Lily Webb comes over?"

I turn around and give him a blank look. "Let's get something straight here. I'm walking you back to your room because I'm being a nice person, not because I want to go back to your room with you."

To my surprise, he pouts at me. "Why do you always have to ruin my fun?"

I just stared at him and blinked a few times. Vincent Bradshaw doesn't pout, and certainly not at me. What the hell was going on?

Finally, my lips tugged at the corners into a smile. "Someone has to keep you in place."

We managed to make it to the corner and, lit up by the streetlights, I saw the bus stop. As we were walking over, the bus rolled down the street and stopped there for us, and I ushered Vincent toward the back. There weren't many people on the bus at this time of night other than a few other drunk students coming back from parties.

We sat nestled in the back corner and I somehow got squished between Vincent and the side of the bus. "I'm surprised we made it this far."

He shot me a crooked smile. "Lily the navigator."

"That's me," I joke with a wicked smirk on my face. "Navigating my way through the streets to walk you back to your dorm because you're too much of a lightweight to handle your liquor."

The admittedly cute smile on his face drops into a scowl. "I am not a lightweight."

My cheeky grin just widens as I continue to tease him, "Then why did I find you in a tub tonight, Bradshaw?"

"I drank the proportionate amount of alcohol for my body weight," Vincent cries defiantly. "Nothing less and nothing more!"

I just stare at him for a moment before I admit, "I'm pretty impressed that you just said something that made sense while you're drunk."

He shoots me a lopsided grin. "I'm not as dumb as you think I am."

And even though he was kidding, his words resonated with me, because I realized that I was too quick to judge Vincent. Again, I felt regret wash over me when I think of how rude I was to him when we were fighting the other day.

But this was Vincent Bradshaw we were talking about. The boy that was infamous for using women however he pleased and took full advantage of his campus wide fame. And yet, instead of thinking of these things when I glanced at him, I was reminded of the boy who told me that he wanted to help me, to save me, when he overheard my conversation with my mom.

"Earth to Lily," Vincent drawls as he waves a hand over my face. I blink at him and he raises his eyebrows in question. "Where'd you go?"

"Just thinking," I murmur.

His unsteady gaze implores me to tell him just exactly what I had been thinking about and he presses, "About?"

I pull myself out of my head long enough to glance out the window as the bus slows to another stop. And, saved by the bus, I tell Vincent, "That this is our stop. Come on, get up."

Luckily, the distraction worked, and he turns around to see that the bus had, indeed, stopped. Vincent pulls himself up out of the bus seat and I slide out behind him to follow his stumbling figure off of the bus.

When we're safely off the bus, I glance around to find my bearings, and it takes me a few extra moments to realize where we were. And, when I could finally tell where I was, I realized that we got off at the wrong stop.

"Shit," I say out loud, and then start walking back toward the bus, but it was already taking off down the street. "Wait!"

Despite my flailing limbs and screeches to the bus driver, the bus kept going steadily on, leaving us in the dust. I groaned loudly and threw my head back in annoyance as I tried to plan the route back to our dorms.

"You fucked up, didn't you?" Vincent asks calmly from behind me.

I turn around and set my unamused gaze on him but still, I admit, "Yeah, I did."

But instead of being mad or annoyed or reacting as sober Vincent would react, he just starts chuckling and nods. "That's okay. We all fuck up sometimes."

I just stare at him incredulously and ask seriously, "Who are you and what did you do with Vincent?"

The sound of a phone ringing cuts through my surprise and lands me back in reality. I check my pocket but my phone is silent, so I glance up at Vincent and see him glaring at the phone screen. He promptly ignores the call and then looks up with a scowl on his face, his good mood gone with the wind, and his angry demeanor returning.

"Who was that?" I ask before I can think better of it.

When Vincent looks up with fire in his eyes, I'm expecting him to refuse me an answer, to tell me to fuck off, or something of the sort. What I don't expect is him to tell me, "My father."

My interest was certainly piqued, and considering he had been willing to tell me that tidbit of information, I decided that I should try to push my luck. "Why are you ignoring his call?"

"Family stuff," Vincent pushes gruffly. "I don't want to talk about it."

It's silent for a mere moment before I nod and let it go. I glance around at our surroundings to find my bearings before I concede that we're only a ten minute walk from Holt, and I set off in the direction with a nod of my head to Vincent. Silence falls between us as we walk down the street, both caught up in our own heads.

While I was curious what happened between Vincent and his father tonight that made him so adamant about not answering his midnight phone call, I more yearned for him to return to the very rare but pleasing carefree attitude he had embodied earlier. I tried not to think of how weird it was that I yearned for Vincent's company at all.

"So," I say conversationally in the hopes to lighten the mood. "We're not that far from our dorms, so I didn't fuck up too badly."

Vincent nods stiffly but doesn't reply, and I suppress a sigh.

Instead of allowing the stale silence between us, I try again, but this time with a different approach in mind. "What's on your mind?"

"Lily," Vincent's voice is rougher than it was before and somehow when he spoke my name, tingles ran up my spine. He steadied his dark eyes on mine and repeats, "I told you that I don't want to talk about it."

"I know," I tell him softly but surely with my gaze locked on his. "But sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do in order to feel better."

It was silent between us for a moment. The only noise was carried through the crisp air from blocks away to provide a muffled insight to someone else's late night adventure. Our steps were slowing to a pace that I usually got frustrated with but, for some reason, it felt like a summer day driving to the beach going ten under the speed limit because you weren't in any hurry.

I didn't need to hurry things. I let myself dissolve into the silence between Vincent and I as he was sucked back into his head and didn't press him to tell me anything. And, after a few moments of walking slowly down the sidewalk, passing underneath street lamps and shadows, he finally spoke.

"It's the anniversary of my mother's death," His voice is detached, as if he's had to say it for so many years, yet it still felt unbelievable saying. "My dad keeps calling, but I don't want to talk to him. I just want to be alone."