"No way, Elle. The last time you and your asshole friends had a party you trashed the place. I had to pay overtime for the clean-up," Oliver protests. He's pointing his spoon at me from across the table like he has some kind of authority. It almost makes me laugh.

I roll my eyes. "You don't pay for shit." I throw a grape at him and he dodges it with a smirk. "Dad has them on his payroll, anyway."

He pauses for a minute, holding a spoonful of oatmeal mid-air. "You know, you really do sound like a brat. I thought I raised you better than that."

This time, I do laugh as I stand up from the table. "Ollie, if the roles were reversed we wouldn't even be having this conversation. You never gave a shit what destruction you caused in high school." I place my bowl in the dishwasher and turn back to face him. "I'm having a party this weekend and you're just going to have to deal with it."

"A party, huh?" Hunter says with a smile as he strolls into the kitchen. This living arrangement is starting to get on my nerves.

I cross my arms as he shoves in front of me to grab a glass from the cabinet. "Yes, and since you're both such mature grown-ups, you'll have to find something else to do Saturday night." I give Oliver a pointed look. "That means stay away."

Oliver and Hunter exchange a mocking glance, but I continue. "Listen, our parents never go away for a whole weekend. And last time they did I was at the beach with Cameron, so I didn't even get to enjoy it." I'm borderline whining at this point, but I don't care. Oliver always gets to do whatever he wants.

Hunter pops a bagel in the toaster, and I glare at him out the corner of my eye. "Don't you have a kitchen of your own that you can eat in?" I whisper harshly at him.

He leans into me slightly. "I would, but apparently all I have is vodka."

I shift my gaze to Oliver who appears to be distracted by his phone. It doesn't take much. I'm about to reply when Hunter's hand grazes mine as he reaches for the butter. Even that small amount of physical contact is almost enough to make me want to slam him against the wall and kiss him until I can't breathe.

His eyes meet mine, and I turn to walk out of the room, apparently causing Oliver to snap out of his trance. "Hey, this conversation isn't over, Elle," he calls to me.

"We'll see," I call over my shoulder.

***

By noon, the news of my party has already spread across school. I catch Oliver glaring at me from down the hall, but it only makes me smile. Not only did I invite the essential people of the senior class, but also a large amount that graduated in the last couple of years. This would include most of his friends, making it extremely amusing to me that he and Hunter cannot attend.

I'm currently wearing Dylan's letterman's jacket over my dress. It's not a fashion statement I'd typically make, but the looks I've already gotten from Hunter are worth it.

He discretely grabs my arm to stop me when I try to walk past his classroom. His features remain even as he speaks, but his words are like ice. "I think you've made your point, Elle."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply.

He shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak again, but then thinks better of it. Before I can react, he pulls me into his classroom and shuts the door behind us. It's supposed to be lunch period so nobody should be looking for either of us at the moment.

His hand grips my waist firmly and he backs me up against the door. He presses his forehead against mine for the longest time without saying a word. The only sound echoing through the room is his ragged breathing.

"Did you sleep with him?" he asks.

"No." Our lips almost brush together as I whisper back to him.

The tension of his hands subsides, and he pulls back to study my face. "Are you trying to make me jealous?"

"Are you?"

He laughs once, but his face is like stone. "Yes."

His admission confuses me even more. Last night he was hell bent on proving how easy it was for him to forget about me. How he didn't think twice to do something that prevented us from being together entirely.

I bring my hands forward and place them flat on his chest. His muscles tense beneath my fingers. "If I'm only your friend, what do you have to be jealous about?"

His pale eyes darken—turn lustful even. I know he wants me. It's obvious in the way he looks at me, the way he makes any excuse to touch to me even when we're not alone. What I don't understand is why he refuses to do anything about it.

Hunter's gaze sears me as it travels slowly down my body and back up to my face. He balls his hands at his sides, refusing to touch me anymore. "You know I want you." He cocks his head to me. "You fucking know that."

My heart skips a beat—but I don't. "Then why did you make a decision that means you can't?"

He sighs and then leans forward again, placing his hands on the door behind me. "Maybe I did it because I needed another reason to stay away from you."

There's more than one? How many reservations can a guy have?

I take another shaky breath and struggle to keep my composure with his mouth this close to mine. "What if I don't want you to?"

His eyes squeeze shut as if he's in pain. I move my hand from his chest and glide it along until it meets his waist. I want him to tell me what he's really thinking. Trying to figure him out is impossible.

He leans back a little and cups the sides of my face forcing me to look at him. "Does it turn you on to make me jealous?" He tilts his head, studying me closely. "Huh? Is that all this is to you—a game?"

I shake my head. "No."

His hands travel down my body as well, one of them slipping through my jacket and landing on my ass. He gives it a firm squeeze and pulls me against him.

"Are you upset that you got to touch me, and I never returned the favor?"

My pulse is in my throat while I flashback at my attempt to seduce him in my bathroom. I'm not sure what came over me, but I wanted him. I've never let myself give in to temptation like that before. But I don't regret it.

Hunter is still waiting for me to respond, and I don't know what to say. The air is too thick is this room. It's too quiet with only the sounds of our sporadic breathing.

"I don't want you to be jealous," I say finally. I look up into his eyes and he's watching me. Waiting for me to say what he wants to hear. Every guy is like that. They like to know they have some kind of power over you, and I don't want to give it to him.

He moves one of his hands to my face again and holds my stare. "Then what do you want?"

The words get caught in my throat. I want to tell him what I'm really feeling so badly it hurts. On the other hand, the thought of his imminent rejection stops me from doing that.

"I don't know," I say instead.

He appears thoughtful for a moment, staring down at my lips. I hold my breath until he does something I don't expect—he kisses me. Hard. His lips crush against mine with a desperation I thought only I felt. My hands grasp at his shirt, and I try to pull him even closer, but then he stops.

He pulls back from me and the expression on his face hardens, his eyes turn darker. "Go to class, Elliot."

Unexpected tears burn my eyes as I blindly fumble for the doorknob, but his features don't change. I manage to keep it together while taking unsteady steps down the hallway to cafeteria.

Regardless of how I feel right now, I wanted him to kiss me. He's not afraid to push the limits with me, and I like it. I need it. The effect Hunter has on me is staggering which only makes me want to fight harder.

I spot Dylan at our usual table in the back of the crowded room. I'm only ten minutes late, but it feels like everyone is watching me while I walk over to sit beside him. He smiles at me, and I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. At least my face doesn't give away what my heart is feeling right now.

"Hey, where were you?" he asks.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and force a smile back. "Ollie needed to talk to me about something."

Seems plausible.

He nods. "You hungry? I can get you something." He motions with his head back to the near empty line.

My stomach clenches, and I let out an involuntary laugh. "No, not at all."

Because of who we are, whether we want to be or not—we're together. I didn't choose to start something with Dylan, he chose me. That's just the way it works around here. People expect this to be my most logical step after ending things with Judah. It's not what I want though. I want to be with the one who takes every bit of my air every time he kisses me. I want him to make my lungs burn until he does it again. The one who makes me feel beautiful and it has nothing do with how I look on the outside. He knows the real me, and for the first time—I feel like that's okay.

***

I've been hiding in my bedroom since I got home from practice. Risking a run-in with Hunter is not something I can handle right now. He upped the stakes today, and I'm not sure what my next move is yet—or if I should even have one. He's not like Judah. The things we've done to each other wouldn't fly with a guy like Hunter. Maybe I should just swallow my pride this time and surrender? Tell him how I really feel instead of prolonging this torture.

After another thirty minutes of deep contemplation, I stand up from my bed and walk out to the balcony that overlooks the pool. I have a direct view to the guest house and can clearly see the light visible in the living room.

"Fuck it," I say out loud as I turn to go back inside. I take determined steps down the stairs with the full intention of ending this charade.

Just as I'm walking out of the side door, a car pulls up the driveway. I don't recognize it, so I stand with my arms folded across my chest and wait. My breath hitches in my throat when Regan exits the car.

She slings her bag over her shoulder and walks toward me with a bright smile plastered on her face. "Oh hey, Elliot. I was looking for Hunter. He said he's staying here."

"Yes, he is."

The words sound foreign coming from my mouth. I'm so caught off guard to see her standing here after he kissed me like that today. I know he was angry when I couldn't answer his question, but I never thought he would give up altogether.

She nods behind me. "Is he in there or—"

I swallow the lump in my throat and point across the patio. "He's in the guest house."

She offers another smile before walking past me. I take a step back closer to the garage door and watch as he opens his door. I can't hear what they're saying, but I don't have to. He pulls her into a hug, and she wraps her arms around his neck.

That sick feeling returns to the pit of my stomach, but I don't look away. I continue to watch as he motions her inside, and I swear I see him smile.

He may have won this round, but he just declared war.