All day Friday, I hide out in the loft at the library. I'm surprised Bailey or Riette don't stop by to harass me. Then I head straight for my car to go home and get ready for the party. Well, I have time to get ready for the party, but Dad doesn't plan to be home tonight. He's coming home for a shower and to change then he's off to some special dinner thing. I don't know what he's doing, but it has something to do with work.

"Hey," Bailey's Cheyenne is parked next to my white BMW and he's grinning, leaning against the back, "hiding all day?"

"What's it to you?"

"Why do you hide?" He follows as I unlock my car.

"I hate school," I shrug and toss my bag into the passenger seat.

"So, why show up at all? Get a job, drop out, get your own place, do something else."

"Maybe once I'm eighteen."

"You know, I can help you out. I can tutor you or just help you with some homework." He scratches his head absent-mindedly, "I'm not like the brightest, but I get through my shit. It can be easier to do homework when you aren't working on it alone. My boys and I usually study together on weekends."

"I don't need a tutor," I huff, relaxing against my car, "I can pass on my own."

"You aren't going to graduate if you never go to classes."

"What the fuck do you care what I do?" I cast a wary glance around the lot, making sure Cassie isn't here.

He notices my gaze, "she's already gone, Max. She left early. Something about cramps or whatever."

"Ew... TMI."

"You're a girl..."

"I don't want to hear about your girlfriend's time of the month," I narrow my eyes, "I get enough people harassing me about mine. Not like any of them know shit about it."

Bailey's jaw feathers with irritation, "whoever gave you that nickname anyway?"

"You're kidding, right?" I can't believe he is asking me that.

"Everyone has been calling you that for as long as I can remember," Bailey scowls.

"No thanks to you."

"It's just what people say," he barks defensively.

I roll my eyes, "dumbass. You're the first one that ever called me Maxi Pad. You don't remember? In seventh grade... My pad fell out of my bag in the hallway and you held it up, screaming Maxi Pad. Then everyone started calling me that."

Bailey's face actually blanches, "shit... That's not... I sort of remember that. I didn't mean it as you... I was just a kid, Max. I was freaking out over the pad."

"You're the one that grabbed it," I hiss, "and it wasn't even a fucking maxi pad. It was just a regular panty liner. I hadn't even gotten my first period, but all the girls were talking about it. I felt left out. And after that I felt stupid for ever wanting the damn thing."

"Wow, girls actually want their period?"

"Ugh..." This is the dumbest conversation, "Why are you even talking to me?"

"I want to make sure you're still going to the party." He runs fingers through his black mane, flipping the tendrils this way and that so it stands out like he just rolled out of bed.

I lie, "I hadn't really planned on it."

His baby blues narrow on me, "liar."

I smirk, "I don't have anything to wear."

"Nothing wrong with what you have on," he grins kindly.

Charcoal fitted leggings, black DC Chelsea tennis shoes, a black tank with a loose, off-the-shoulder blue blouse draped over me. It's a relaxed look and easy to get comfortable in a chair when I read all day.

Does he think I look good?

Is he saying I shouldn't bother getting dressed up?

"I should at least put on some jeans," I finally mutter.

"I like your light jeans," Bailey returns to his cocky smirk, "you have a fine ass and they really show it off."

I know he can see my cheeks turn rosy as I duck my head and pretend to fidget with my hair. I am not helping the situation by fiddling, but I can't think straight. He makes it so easy for me to want to strip down.

Fucking hell.

"I'll see you there around ten?"

"Yeah sure..." I'm glad he mentions a time because I really don't know when parties start anymore.

I don't want to show up too early and appear eager. If I show up too late, I'll seem like I am trying too hard to be cool. Might as well not show up at all at that point, but I wouldn't know.

In my head, I decide ten thirty just to make him wait and squirm a little. I doubt he'll be waiting around for me, but at least Cassie isn't supposed to show up due to her period.

💀

As soon as I get home, I hurry to my room. Well, as fast as I can with my stupid brace and throbbing knee. It's still recovering from the first day of school and all the times I've fallen down since then. I'm not usually so clumsy, but that's what happens when someone injures your already terminally ill knee.

Dad comes home and goes straight to his room. He isn't in there long, coming out dressed in khaki slacks, shiny black dress shoes and a cobalt blue button up shirt. He heads straight downstairs and I hear him unlock the fridge to grab a beer. Things go quiet after a few minutes and I begin digging through my drawers.

I find the jeans Bailey mentioned. I lie them on the bed and rummage through my closet for a different shirt. I don't want to look like I put too much effort into my look, but I'm not wearing this shirt to the party. I binged on a bag of Cheetos that I snuck from the cupboards before Dad locked them up last night.

I already showered this morning, so don't have to worry about that. I fish out my makeup bag and apply a little gold eyeshadow that makes my green eyes more vibrant. It will go with the lacey indigo blouse I picked to wear over the black tank.

While I'm fitting the knee brace into place, there's a knock on the door. Dad lets himself in and I make it look like I am just adjusting the brace. He leans on the doorway sipping a fresh beer. It must be his second or third before he heads out.

"Are you going somewhere?" He growls suspiciously.

"Just goofing around."

"No homework?"

"All done."

Dad squints, dropping the beer bottle and marches into the room. I scramble back, but he pins me into the mattress before I can get out of the way. Heart thrashes painfully in my chest as he lowers over me, snarling and snapping his jaw like a feral dog. There's a hint of whiskey underneath his beer breath.

"I know when you're lying to me, Maxine!" Fingers tighten on my elbows, hiking them up, so I can't fight him, "stop pretending like you give a shit about school!"

Stop pretending like you give a shit about me!

"I-I'm sorry..." My voice dithers.

"I would kill you right now if I knew it would bring your mama back, you little cunt," Dad releases one arm to jam his hand into my throat and clutch my windpipe.

I choke against his hold, but he lets go before it bruises. I cough for air as he cackles and straightens himself. The cobalt shirt is tugged out of his pants, so he leans back down, clawing and yanks me upright. I stifle a yelp of pain as the brace falls to my ankle.

"Fix my shirt," he snarls, holding up his arms.

What?

His fingers grasp my shoulders, clutching agonizingly. He hits me with a dark glare and raises an expectant eyebrow. I squeeze my eyes shut terrified what he's going to do next.

"I said fix my fucking shirt!"

He releases me again and I open my eyes to see him holding up his arms. With shaky hands, I unfasten his belt and unzip the pants. My fingers trembles as I shove the shirt into his pants, making sure it doesn't bunch. Then zip them up and clasp the belt again. Dad smirks, shoving me onto the bed before storming out of my room.

Taking a deep breath, I sit up and stare at the open door, listening as he leaves. I tug the brace into place and secure it. I'm almost too dazed, and consider backing out of going to the party, but then receive a text.

I stare at the message like I imagined it. He could be demanding I come help, but I'm pretty sure he means it as a question. He wants me to come over early. He wants to see me. That or I just want to imagine someone wants me.

💀

I park along the street, so that I won't get trapped in the driveway when party-goers start showing up. My knee still aches from earlier, so I pop one of my pills and stash the bottle in the jockey box. After locking up the car, I shuffle around to the driveway, staring at the long ass walk. I am not in the mood for this, not to mention all the standing around during the party and the long walk back when it's over.

Shit.

Tires screech behind me, and I peer over my shoulder to see Connor sitting there in the late nineties black Ford Bronco. He grins like he knows a secret I don't. I adjust myself so we're facing each other head on.

"Get in, Sawyer!" He hollers after leaning over to roll down the window, "I'll save you the long trek."

"Umm, okay," I'm not going to argue.

It takes a moment to get my left leg situated. Connor doesn't huff or cluck at me impatiently. When I glance at him after closing the door, he just grins and shifts into gear.

"You okay, Sawyer?"

"Just tired," I shrug, staring out the window.

"Are you sure about that?" He types a message into his phone as the pickup crawls up the slope.

"Yes."

It takes a few minutes till he's parked behind Zane's steel gray Challenger. Bailey runs out the front door as I slide from the seat and catches me before my feet land, easing me to the cement.

"Damn, are you okay?" His eyebrows knit together.

"Fine," I push a piece of hair behind my ear.

"You look..." He licks his lips, "well you look great, but you look a little rough around the edges."

Huh?

"I think she could use a drink," Connor suggests hastening inside before we even move.

"I'm not drinking. I have to drive home."

"I'll get you some soda," Bailey shrugs it off and walks at my snail pace without complaint.

The house is clean, spacious, and lacks furniture. There are a lot of paintings on the walls that I don't understand, the floors are a dark hardwood, and what furniture is here is cream or beige. I can't imagine how anything stays clean after one of Zane's infamous parties. He practically has two or three every month.

"Here, sit," Bailey gestures to the kitchen table.

I don't argue and sit down, propping my left leg on another chair with a wince. I rub above it with my thumbs and attempt to focus my mind. I don't need to think about what happened before I left home. I don't need to worry about whatever is going on between Bailey and me. I really don't have to worry about Cassie showing up tonight.

"Dark or light soda?"

"Something like Sprite."

"Sprite it is," Bailey returns with two sodas.

He pops open a vanilla Pepsi and guzzles half of it in a few seconds. I just fiddle with the can and stare at the table top. It's a beautiful shiny wood with ornate carvings around the corners and down the legs. The chairs match with cream cushions. It's very fancy and it is only the kitchen table. I can't imagine what the dining room set looks like.

"Bay, help us with the keg!" Zane shouts from somewhere.

I jerk in my seat, but can't see anyone.

"Just rest," Bailey disappears before I can argue, finishing the soda.

He's being really nice and I'm not sure what I've done to earn it. Even Connor seemed concerned about me. Zane is the only one I haven't interacted with much, so I don't know what he's going to be like. I've always imagined he is the real douche of the group since he's rich and gets everything he ever asks for.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out with a little struggle and open it to find that Dad tried calling me. Groaning, I click on the voicemail and listen to his loud voice filling my eardrum.

"You left the fucking house! You bitch!" My heart jumps into my throat, "I came home because I forgot my damn wallet, Maxine! Where the hell did you go!" I hold the phone away from my ear, "You know what, I don't fucking give a shit! Don't bother coming home tonight! Stay wherever the fuck you are and just don't show up! Fuck..."

I pull my phone away to discover the message goes on for another minute. I huff to myself, but a hand finds my wrist, making me jump. I drop the phone in the process and the shouting can clearly be heard from the floor. Bailey kneels down and passes it to me, scowling. I click it off and delete the message before he can demand to listen to it.

"What was that?" He returns to the seat across from me.

"I don't know..." I fib, stuffing the phone in my pocket, "I think some chick gave a guy the wrong number."

I chance a peek at Bailey, but he's not looking at me. He nods and doesn't comment. Either he buys it or he's respecting my privacy. I do not understand.

Why are you being nice?

💀

By eleven, the party is in full swing. Music throbs inside the walls and the lights are all off aside from a lamp here or there. Girls grind against each other in the cleared living room with lots of guys gawking. Half of the people here are unfamiliar. Most likely from neighboring schools or the college in the next town over.

The kegs are in the kitchen, which is the only room in the house with the over lights on. Snack bags of chips, pretzels, and trail mix span the table and all of the Smart Popcorn is already gone. I managed to snag a bag when Riette and Bailey set it up. It was enough at the time, but my stomach is growling again.

I haven't seen the guys since ten and I'm ready to head home soon. I can barely keep my eyes open. I don't know where the hell I will go. I haven't talked to Taryn in days and she isn't responding to my messages. My dad doesn't want me home and I'm too afraid to go there. I can sleep in my car, but I'll have to figure out a safe place to park it for the night. It's still warm enough outside that I won't get too cold with a coat or blanket.

"Hey, Max," Asher slides in behind me, "I never thought I'd see you at a party again."

I grumble, "Bailey."

"He made you come here?"

"Sort of." I don't want to divulge how I wanted to come.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"I'm just having water," I hold up a water bottle, "I have to drive home after."

"How late do you have to stay?"

Do I have to stay for a certain about of time? Is this part of the game or is this Bailey's way of ending the game?

Stop thinking like that.

He doesn't want you. He's not your friend.

"No idea."

"I can drive you home if you decide to drink," Asher offers, "I only had the one shot and that was at ten. I'm sober now after dancing and eating some chips."

"Thanks, but I'm fine."

"Have you seen Taryn? I thought she would be here."

"She hasn't talked to me for a while," I'm surprised he expects to see her here.

"I think she's mixed up with Connor. I told her to stay away from him, but she's being stubborn. Maybe she cut you out so you wouldn't judge her or something."

"It's really none of my business," though I feel a little offended she didn't trust me enough to tell me, "she can date whoever she wants."

"I wouldn't call it dating," Asher grimaces, eyeing Riette and Zane.

They're in the living room grinding on some girls. Zane is clearly enjoying himself, but Riette actually looks bored. He scans the room like he is looking for someone, but keeps turning up empty. He eventually breaks away from the girl, who is pissed, but swivels and sways against Zane's back. He's pleased to share the two girls, who don't even care. I could never share a guy with a girl. Not even to dance.

"Where is Bailey?"

I shrug in response.

"Why did he ask you to be here if he isn't going to be with you?"

With me or hang out?

"I'm not his keeper, Asher. Besides, it's best he's busy."

"Let me get you a shot and you can have fun instead of torment yourself, Max," Asher disappears before I can retort.

When he returns, he holds up a shot glass with green liquid. It smells like apples. I don't think it's anything strong, and can use a small buzz. He already said he can drive me home. I might have to take him up on that offer, though it would be really stupid to show up at home drunk after Dad's voicemail.

Whatever.

I take it from his hand, but suddenly it is smacked down and stains the white chair I am leaning on. Asher stiffens and hands ball as he moves toward me. The hand suddenly slams into his shoulder, shoving him back. I snap my head up and find Bailey standing next to me, glowering at Asher darkly. I've never seen him act like this to protect Cassie before.

Tingles erupt in my center and my panties wet instantly.

Fuck.