It's almost a relief to end up back at Blake's, as though we're better suited in the drags of his basement than we are in my bedroom. I help to set up, lining the counters with alcohol and snacks before preparing the beer pong table. Blake sorts out the music, then turns down the lights until the basement looks more like a cave.

"Think that about covers it," he says, moving to the counter. "You want a drink?" He picks up a beer, about to hand it over, but I fervently shake my head. I plan to remain sober for the hour I'm here and then drive myself home. "Suit yourself," he says, popping the top, and he takes a sip.

When I can't take the silence any longer, I walk over and reach for the chip bowl instead, eating my nerves away. Blake stands beside me, wearing that look like he can't decide whether to be annoyed by my presence or if he finds my antics amusing.

"Remember," he says, pulling the chip bowl away from me, "no mention of mafia books."

"No mafia books – got it." I reach into my back pocket, pulling out a business card I'd stuffed there before we left. "Do you think I should give these out when they get here?" I flip the card around to show him the Vote For Rose Matthews business cards I made last year.

He stares at the card as though I've just pulled a rabbit from a hat. "How many of those did you bring?"

"Around thirty," I say. "I couldn't fit anymore in my pocket."

He steps closer. My heart pounds as he shoves his hand into my back pocket and pulls out the rest of the cards. With a cutting look, he tosses them in the trash behind me.

"Keep your hands," I say, my voice surprisingly even, "to yourself."

"With pleasure," he says and downs the rest of his beer.

It's not long before Blake's friends arrive. I spot a few familiar faces first, like Kenny and Freddie, but the river of flowing bodies soon become unrecognizable. I grow nervous, unsure of where to stand as they fill up the basement. The music is blaring, and the room is suddenly hazy with weed, making my eyes burn. I turn around, searching for Blake through the crowd of people, but I can't see him anywhere. I'm officially on my own.

Panic rises up my throat as I stand against the furthest wall. That's when I spot Blake on the sofa, surrounded by smoke and joking with his friends. My heart suddenly does this giant leap in my chest like I've just jumped off a cliff. I'm no longer on the same planet as my comfort zone, but seeing Blake gives me a semblance of clarity. If I can just get through the next hour or so, it could improve my chances of getting these people to vote for me. I just have to do what Blake keeps telling me: relax.

The longer I watch him, the more I realize that it's nice to see this side of him. He looks easy and relaxed, the way I'd imagine he'd be with me if he actually liked me. For a brief, insane second, I wish that he did.

"What's she doing here?" A girl nearby whispers.

"No idea," her friend says back. "I heard Blake's her campaign captain, though. You think he's fucking her?"

"As if. Did you hear what she did in spring break, though?"

My cheeks burn as I step back into the shadows. I'm on the verge of dipping out the back door when someone taps my shoulder, forcing me to turn around. Liv and some guy from my physics class stand before with beers in their hands.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," Liv says, smiling. She looks different tonight: she's wearing a tight gray The White Stripes tee with faded ripped jeans and sneakers. Her hair is scraped up into a killer high pony, and while she doesn't usually wear makeup, her lips are vampire red.

I hug her instantly, grateful to recognize a familiar face. Her soul practically leaves her body before she takes pity and hugs me back. "Keiran," she says, looking over my shoulder, "you know Rose, right? She's my date tonight."

Kieran looks me over and smirks. "Rose Matthews is Bi? Since when?"

"Nah, pretty sure she's straight as an arrow," Liv says with a wink, "but a girl can dream. Ooh, I love this song."

Some rock song I've never heard comes on, and the pair start talking about the band. I smile as though I know what they're talking about, but when Kieran asks me what's my favorite song, I freeze. Liv laughs and pulls out her phone to play me a few songs. To my surprise, I don't hate it.

"Seriously," Kieran says, "what brings you to Blake O'Hare's basement, Rose Matthews?"

I look him over, taking in his dyed-white hair and sorry excuse for a goatee. "The same thing that brings you here, probably."

His mouth spreads into a slow Cheshire grin. "You came here to play beer pong too? Well, in that case." He grabs my hand, dragging me over to the beer pong table, and a few of the others move aside.

"You don't have to play if you don't want to," Liv says.

I hesitate. I hadn't been planning to drink – I didn't want to end up stranded at Blake's house – but the challenging look Kieran gives me urges me on. "It's fine," I say with a wave of my hand, "I'm an expert at beer pong."

I'm not lying, either. I've played countless times with Chase and his friends at his summer barbecues, so much so that I know if I focus, I can get Kieran drunker than my Uncle Barry at Christmas.

"Hope you can handle your drink," Kieran says as he grabs a beer pong ball.

I smile teasingly. "It's you I'm worried about."

Liv clasps her hands together like she's tuned into the world's juiciest game. A few others stop talking to pick a side, and I try not to let it get to me that most of them crowd behind Kieran.

We take our places on opposite sides of the table. I look up briefly, assessing which hand he's likely to throw with, and adjust my position accordingly. To the left of me, Blake is sitting with Freddie on the sofa, staring at me.

I look away quickly, ignoring the rapid descent of my heart, and focus on the game. Just before we're ready to start, something daring takes over me. "Hey, Keiran, wanna make a deal?"

Eyebrow raised, he says, "I'm listening."

I smile. "If I win two games in a row, you and your friends have to vote for me to be your new senior class president."

He's so sure I'll lose that he doesn't even flinch. "You've got yourself a deal, Matthews."

Behind me, I'm acutely aware a few others have stopped talking to watch our game unfold. Even though I don't turn around, I'm certain Blake is one of them.

To scramble a little confidence, I swig the beer Liv is holding and turn to the table. Now is my chance to be the confident Rose, to give people something else to talk about. Granted, champion of beer pong isn't exactly the image I'd once have strived for, but beggars can't be choosers.

It's my turn first. My concentration is unparallel as I measure the ball to the cup and aim. It plops straight in, splashing Kieran with remnants of beer, and a chorus of cheers rings out. Kieran frowns and removes the ball before downing the contents of his cup.

"All right, all right, lucky shot," he says, but he's laughing.

As it turns out, Kieran is better at beer pong than Chase's friends. He lands a shot, too, igniting another chorus of cheers, but I refuse to let it deter me. I remove the ball and down the beer, grimacing at the bitter taste.

"Come on, Rose," Liv shouts beside me, "you got this."

I smile and bend down a little, imagining the ball's trajectory as I line it up with the cup. If the countless sports I've played over the year have given me anything, it's reasonable hand-to-eye coordination skills. When I'm satisfied, I send the ball flying, watching as it cuts through the air before plopping into a cup.

A few others crowd behind me and cheer me on. Kieran misses his next shot and the one after that. I get into a rhythm, aiming and shooting until only one of his cups is left undrunk.

"Holy shit," someone behind Kieran says, "she's annihilating you, bro."

Kieran sways to the side as though he can barely stand. He waves the guy away, then bends across the table as he tries to measure the ball with my cup. Even though he's still got several to aim for, he somehow misses them all.

I take him out with the final shot. Liv squeals in my ear and clutches my back as we jump in a circle. Others join in, and even Kieran slurs, "Congratulations," before setting the table back up.

"If you want," I say, turning around, "you can get one of your friends to switch with you. I don't mind who I beat."

Kieran grins and looks around at the handful of others still left on his side, but they laugh and shake their heads. He frowns and looks at the row of cups, debating whether or not to continue. From the way he's swaying, he won't last another round. Just as I'm certain he's about to concede, a deep voice cuts through the music.

"I'll do it."

❤️