Warner grabs my hand, and we pass through the crowd; I can sense a lull through the commotion wherever we pass from. People are staring, and I am not surprised that they are; the prodigal Warner Brooks is back from University, he's like the main attraction at a circus. It doesn't make sense for the main attraction to be hanging out with Jiggly Juliet.

After a few minutes, I realize that nobody recognizes me. We passed by multiple girls from high school who used to make my life hell, and they only gave me a look because I have Warner at my side. I know the difference between jealousy and the look of utter disgust I used to receive from these people.

He takes us to a corner that isn't as cramped as the rest of the space, and the moment I hear the first words leading to Buttons by the Pussy Cat dolls, I jump in happiness. It's all so new to me, yet It's like I was this person all along, the one without any inhibitions or insecurities. I feel exhilarated and giddy as the people around me start dancing to the one song I've rocked out to in the privacy of my room way too much.

I was glad I drank as much as I did and begin my routine, one I have perfected for this very song. Warner laughs, and I don't protest when he places his hands on my waist and begins moving at the same pace as me. I've always known that he was a good dancer; I put my hands on his shoulders as we both allow the catchy beat to guide our steps.

It's surreal, really, an out-of-body experience as I watch our bodies moving in sync and realize that Warner and I are having a good time, no scratch that great time together. He lets go of me only to twirl me around and then press my back into his chest as he wraps his arms around my waist, swaying us to the sound of the music. I don't even have time to worry about my body when his hands touch my waist, and I feel like I'm on cloud nine as I dance my heart out with Warner by my side.

The song ends, and it takes a few seconds for the next one to start, but that is enough for two things to happen almost simultaneously. The first is that I realize I am pressed way too tightly against Warner, and our chests are heaving up and down almost at the same rate. My back's facing him, so I can't see his face, but with the way he's holding me, I realize that maybe he's enjoying this a bit too much.

"Where the hell did that come from?" I turn around to face a grinning Warner. It is easy to forget that he is supposed to be my nemesis when he smiles at me like that.

Before I can answer him, my theory about nobody recognizing me is confirmed. The party host James Stone has spotted me, and he puts himself in between Warner and me.

"Warner, why have you not introduced me to your friend? Hi, my name is James." He puts out his hand, and I shake it. Does this guy not realize it is me? James Stone was talking to me... the same guy who invited every person in our grade but me to his fifteenth birthday party. The guy who told me I should go on doctor pimple popper when I showed up to school with a massive pimple on my forehead. Now he was hitting on me at a party with no clue who I am.

I never understood the superhero movies where their disguise is literally glasses, and somehow nobody recognizes them. Suddenly I was starting to understand. At least in my case, I got rid of way more than just my glasses; I also got rid of the huge pimples he used to make fun of.

"Yes, you have." I smile, entertained by the puzzled look on his face.

"I would remember a face like yours." James takes a step closer to me, and I heard Warner let out a snort. I look at him, and he is holding in a laugh.

"Well, I would definitely remember your face with a pimple like that on your forehead." As soon as the words leave my mouth, his jaw drops to the floor. This was so fun. His hand goes to his face, and he looks like he wants to whip out his front camera and check out his forehead.

James can't even come up with a response; he is so caught off guard, I can't believe he still doesn't know who I am.

Men are such idiots.

"Well, it was great seeing you again James, Let me know if you want any tips for that pimple of yours! Maybe you can get on doctor pimple popper." I don't know where this courage is coming from, but I am relishing in it. Well, I do know where it's coming from...the liquid courage, but I have been dreaming of getting back at these people for years.

I walk away from them both, too scared to look at Warner's reaction in case he was mad that I was beefing the host of the party. These people worshipped Warner, and in one night, I was already tainting his image.

I grab another drink, even though I can feel myself getting a little too drunk. A second later, Warner reappeares his face is lit up in amusement. He grabs the cup from my hand and places it back on the table.

"You are something else." He is smiling at me, and I have to look away. Wasn't he mad?

"You aren't mad?"

"Mad? That guy is an asshole; he is going to be having parties at his parents' house till he is 30. This has probably been the most fun I have ever had at one of his parties."

My eyes go wide at Warner's confession. I was excited that he was having just as much fun as I was, but there was a voice in the back of my head telling me it was all some practical joke. That Warner was doing this as some game, and I was going to look stupid at the end of it all.

Then I see someone I never wanted to see again. Sierra. And there was no way she wouldn't recognize me. When her eyes land on me, I pretty much want to be buried ten feet under already.

It takes her a few seconds, but once she glances between Warner and me, I see her grinding her teeth and unleashing the full wrath of her terrorizing gaze on me.

Her eyes practically turn into slits when Warner places a hand on my shoulder and while he is probably doing it to comfort me it's the last thing I need in this situation. I used to be friends with Sierra, and she has crushed on Warner for years. I do not need to show Sierra that the guy she crushed on for years was by my side.

"We should go," I say shakily, still not removing my eyes from where Sierra stands, looking at me like she wishes I would vanish with a poof.

"Jules, you can't let a bully like her ruin your night."

"Warner, you don't understand; when Sierra gets angry she..."

It hurt to think about everything she did to me over the years. The pool party incident is mild compared to all the other stuff she did to me. I remember in grade nine, we had to do two weeks of swimming for Gym, which was essentially an overweight teens nightmare. Sierra took pictures of me in my one-piece speedo bathing suit and photoshopped me into the ocean next to some whales. That picture was sent around all over school. I mean nobody looks good in a one-piece speedo, but that picture still haunts me. I skipped swimming in Gym for the rest of high school, it was the only bad mark I ever got.

I push past Warner and all the people dancing, laughing and having fun in the vast room. Once I am in the clear, I head down a long winding hallway trying to find some peace and quiet.

What was I thinking? How could I actually believe that I could just have a fun night and make it through unscathed? Sierra was not going to let me leave without making a scene. I was way too drunk to deal with this.

I wanted to do something to hurt her like she hurt me; I wanted revenge. I feel Warner's presence, and before he could even say anything, I speak up.

"Warner, I am not letting her ruin my night but I want to do something. I want more REVENGE!" I yell the word revenge as if I am some sort of warrior, and Warner laughs loudly, making the corners of his eyes crinkle and the dimples in his cheek deepened.

I am tempted to touch his face, but he halts the intrusive thoughts in my head when he holds my hand in his and begins walking me outside.

"Where are we going?" I ask as a mischievous grin makes its way onto his face.

"I am going to take advantage of your newfound bravery, and we are going to do something that will make you feel better."

"I'm cold," I complain as we make our way through the parking lot. I stumble as we go past car after car. Then we stop near a pink Jeep; Warner grins and fishes out a pocket knife from his pockets.

"Slash her tires," Warner demands, and I shake my head vigorously.

"This is a bad idea, and even drunk me knows that."

"This is payback Jules, slit the damn tires," he says excitedly. I think back to the insulting things Sierra has done and how she has made me feel over the years.

"Okay, let's get to work."

We run away from Sierra's car, giggling like little kids. I have never done anything like this before, I am sure Warner has, but for me, this is all so new.

An hour later, we stumble into my room. The house is quiet; my mom has quite a social life and must have gone out for drinks with some friends.

"Go and change Jules, you look like you are about to drop dead," Warner sits on the foot of my bed and begins taking his shoes off. He pushes up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Yum

Right, no drooling

I go to the bathroom and carefully undress. I put on one of my old oversized Jiggly Juliet t-shirts and stumble back out into my room. It's all that I can manage to put on without cracking my skull on the tiled floor.

"I'm beat," I mutter, falling onto my bed with a loud thump. When I don't hear a response, I open my eyes to see Warner standing a couple of feet away from me, looking rather pale.

"What's wrong?" I ask, yawning and stretching my sore muscles.

"You're not wearing any pants," He stutters, and I furrow my brow. So what?

"People can sleep without pants, Brooks. S'no big deal." Another yawn escapes me as I bury my head in the pillow and snuggle up to it.

He's quiet, and that's when a blanket is pulled over me, and I'm tucked into bed. I sigh at the pleasant warmth and pull the covers tightly around myself. Hmm, this feels nice.

"Hey Warner," I say, hearing my door creak open.

"Yeah?" he asks in an unusual throaty voice.

"Please stay," I murmur into my pillow.

Even in the state of being half-asleep, I hear the lock on my door click into place after about five minutes. Whatever internal debate he's having seems to have settled as he lifts the covers and slips underneath.

"Goodnight, Jules," He whispers as we lay side by side with a good amount of space between us.

"Goodnight," I reply before drifting back into sleep.