Chapter 4

I really don't need this. Really. I mean, when I open the door to my apartment I expect everything to be relatively peaceful and quiet. I expect to hear Izzy, Kugo dog from hell, to be barking like mad. I expect to see my cat streak under the armchair and refuse to budge for the next three hours. I expect my room to be as clean, or as filthy, as the hour I left it. This is what I expect when I open the door to my apartment.

I do not, I repeat, do not, expect to be accosted by two teenaged girls with glittery eye shadow. Sorry. That's just not on my Thirty-Things-To-Do-Before-I'm-Thirty list. Climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, maybe. Seeing my best friend with a diamante around her navel ring holding my favorite glitzy top with the back cut off? No, definitely not.

"Guess where we're going," Tori sings, doing a little happy dance with my mutilated glitzy top. I'm so going to kill her. She doesn't know the half of the damage I can inflict. All I have to do is scoot slowly into the kitchen and grab the steak knife. Yeah, that's it. The steak knife. It's all downhill from there.

"M-my top!" I gasp, reaching for it with shaking hands that probably couldn't even hold the steak knife even if I could get to it.

"Oh, this?" Tori asks, glancing at the pretty turquoise sequined silk. "Tima just made some slight alterations."

"You killed it!" I cry, grabbing it from her. Once upon a time it had been a beautiful thin-strapped turquoise silk tunic with lace-and-sequins trimmed edges. Now, in the horror that is known as the modern world, it's backless with little criss-crossy turquoise ribbons and a halter neck. Yeah, I guess it's kind of cute the way Tima gathered the bust for a hint of ruching but... it just isn't the same, damn it!

"I didn't kill it," Tima says indignantly. "I improved it. It was looking last season anyway."

"It was looking like my favorite top! Now... it looks like..." Actually, it kind of looks like that blouse I was drooling over on the Gucci website...

Tima smirks, folding her arms over a yellow top with an empire waistline and gold lace that looks suspiciously like it belongs to Tameka.

"Whatever," Tori announces. "Just go put it on and get ready! We're going to Heather Lockley's party."

I guess I should explain about Brickwoodite parties. Well, more specifically, Brickwoodite parties held by young Brickwoodites. They only happen when the parents are gone. They always have obscene amounts of alcohol and there's an unspoken dress code. I mean, it's not like there's a bouncer at the door who kicks people out but you just know. You dress like you're going to a club in the city. Jeans and a t-shirt? Strictly forbidden.

In case you couldn't tell, I don't really go to Brickwoodite parties. Ever. They aren't my thing. Andy and Leo go to them because, hell, there's free beer. Tori goes occasionally for the dancing. Tima gets enough of parties at her own house and I... I just don't like Brickwood Park. So it's very rarely that I find myself forced into the bathroom with my two best friends while they insist on doing my makeup even though I'm perfectly capable of doing my own makeup and don't habitually stab myself in the eye with my eyeliner. I mean, it's not like I'm the tomboy that you have to threaten with bodily harm before I doll up. I doll up all the time. Well, okay, not all the time. I mean, it's kind of hard to keep that sultry-eye-look when some stray cat is sinking its fully unclipped claws into your flesh or when the cappuccino machine keeps letting out these huge clouds of steam that turn your hair into one giant frizz ball. But, you know, I do try.

"You really should wear eyeliner more often, Eve," Tori murmurs, buffing some slate colored eye shadow onto my lid and practically squeezing my eyeball out in the process.

"I do wear eyeliner," I growl as Tima stabs my gums with the lip liner. "I just don't wear gobs— Ow!"

"Sorry," Tima says sheepishly but yanks the brush through my hair again anyway. Cow.

"You know, I don't really need your help... if this could be called help," I mutter.

I catch Tori's eye-roll and glare combo. "Eve, there's no way you would be doing this on your own. And even if you did, which I doubt, you would take forever."

"Plus," Tima adds with a shrug, "it's like playing Barbies again. It's fun."

Great. Now I'm a disproportioned stereotype who is perpetually on tiptoes. Just what I always wanted to be when I grew up. The icon responsible for the degradation of young women's self-esteem across the globe. Peachy.

"So fun," I grumble and shove my bangs out of my eyes. Tima's got all of my hair bunched in one hand and she's pulling it up into my usual messy bun only she's done something to it so it looks different. It's got that whole my-hair's-so-silky-that-a-man-can't-help-but-plunge-his-fingers-into-it thing going on.

"Do you have one of those flowers?" she asks, already digging through my vanity.

"The silver one would look good," I say. "Use that and I'll wear my silver heels."

"Damn, I wanted to borrow those!" Tori says, curling her lashes and then mine.

"You're feet are two sizes bigger than mine!"

"So?"

"You'll stretch them out!"

Tori sighs. "Can I borrow your gold Charles Davids?"

"Fine," I huff. Tima blasts me with the hairdryer making a couple of looses strands of hair stick to my lip gloss. "What was that for?"

"For that windswept look," she grins. "You're done now. I'll call Leo to come get us."

"But Andy's still here," Tori points out. "And we both have cars. Plus you know Leo's going to drink."

"Eve can drive us back," Tima says, pulling out her cell. "And Andy has the Paxton Pruning truck and our cars suck. I'll just tell Leo to take the Explorer."

"Whatever," Tori says, flipping her hair a bit.

"Hey, Leo, it's Tima..." she says into the phone." Yeah, we just finished up. Andy's already here so if you want to just bring the Explorer... yeah... yeah, that'd be perfect... See you in a few."

"Are you guys done yet?" Andy calls from the living room.

I smile. "We just finished. Leo's going to be here in a minute."

Andy slumps into view down the hall. "Finally. It's not like it's going you've got anyone to impress around here... or do you?"

He waggles his eyebrows at me. Idiot. Don't get me wrong, I love Andy, he's one of my best friends. But the guy's got issues. He's fully convinced that Tima or Tori or I have some boyfriend that we've been keeping from him and Leo just for the hell of it.

"No!" Tima cries and Andy winks at me. Tima and Leo have been in love with each other for years but they haven't got the guts to tell each other. It drives Andy and I crazy. Tori doesn't really care as long as Tima isn't harping to her about the exact brown of Leo's eyes. It gets pretty pathetic, believe me.

So anyway, Tima, Tori, Andy, and I all head into the living room to wait for Leo to get there and he's taking forever so we're all just sitting there doing nothing which is, you know, really productive of us because you so know we are such wonderful, productive members of society as we sit on my couch and discuss whether Michaela Leery and Jessica Martin are really as buddy-buddy as they seem in all the magazines or if there are actually underlying catfights. Because, you know, it's rumored that Luke Garcia broke up with Jessica Martin because his on-screen romance with Michaela Leery spilled off-screen. Of course most of those rumors evaporated when my face got slapped into the tabloids but we try to avoid that subject. Besides, Tima and Andy don't actually know that Luke Garcia was sitting on my couch a couple hours ago. Tima would probably flip and place my couch cushions in a Plexiglas case, never to feel the corrosion of air again.

Yeah, I'm not exactly planning on telling Tima about the whole Luke Garcia thing any time soon. She doesn't even know about the "date." If something that pathetic can be called that.

A horn sounds from the apartment parking lot. Leo. Always the gentleman. Puh-lease. We all get up at the same time and file out my door, Andy slamming it behind him. I wince again. Peggy is so going to be laying into me but if she really makes a stink I'll pull the Kugo Card. See, she's not supposed to have a dog in her apartment but I've been the nice neighbor and haven't said anything but if she pushes me, I'm so going to turn the old woman in. I mean, it's only fair.

"So, Tima," Andy says, slinging his arm around her shoulders. "When are you going to ask Leo out on an actual date?"

Tima sighs. "Try never."

"What?" Tori gasps, staring at Tima over her shoulder.

"It would never work out," Tima says. "I mean, his sister tries to exorcise me every time I set foot in his house and his parents... well, his dad's alright but there's something about the Moretti women."

I should probably explain that, huh? See, Tima and Leo both come from strong religious backgrounds. Fatima's family is Muslim, Leo's family is Catholic. Essentially oil and water if you've ever met the Hakims or Morettis. Fatima's not as religious since she left home; she doesn't cover her hair or anything and she doesn't pray five times a day anymore. She used to, but she stopped when she moved in with Tameka so the issue isn't really with Fatima's religion. It's more the Morettis. Not Leo, he couldn't care less about religious differences and marrying a nice Catholic, preferably Italian, girl. His family though. His sister's one step away from becoming a nun and his parents are just out there. I mean, it's not that I've got anything against Catholics. I'm fully aware that the majority have fully shunned the holier-than-thou mentality, it's just that the Morettis haven't. For God's sake, one of the few times I was over at the Morettis for dinner, Mrs. Moretti started in on why the Crusades failed and how she thought the knights of the Crusades had it exactly right and the only thing off was their timing.

Andy's actually probably the only religiously orthodox one of the five of us. His family's Lutheran but apart from the occasional pressure from Mr. Paxton to join their church they leave the rest of us alone on the God front. Tori's situation is probably the craziest. Her dad is a strong Buddhist, attends temple, follows the Eight-Fold Path, the works. Tori's mother, on the other hand, got sucked into the evangelical-free church as soon as she set foot on American soil. Tori was understandably traumatized by this in her youth and has now converted to full-on atheism. We won't get into my situation, it's way too complicated to even make sense.

"Hey, Leo," I say, climbing into the back seat with Andy and Tori.

"Hey," he says. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good. How's Sarah?" That's Leo's sister.

He grimaces. "'Oh, Leo, why don't you come with me to mass tonight instead of going to that party of sin? Jesus wouldn't approve, you know.'"

"That bad?" Andy asks sympathetically.

"Like you wouldn't believe. Mom's starting to get on my back, too. I'm telling you, the day after graduation I'm out of there."

"Amen," Tori says with a heavy sigh. "No pun intended."

I wince a little. Tori's got a bad thing about puns. She just can't help herself.

"Where are you planning on moving?" Tima asks, watching Leo's profile attentively. The girl has got it so bad.

Leo shrugs, his eyes on the road, completely oblivious to Tima's attention. "I don't know. Anywhere but here? I've always liked the idea of New York. I sent in an application to NYU, Early Decision."

I perk at that. "You did? You never told me that!"

He grins at me in the review mirror. "What, Eve? Looking for a roommate already?"

I blush a little at that. I sent in an Early Decision application to Columbia and, yes, I am looking to avoid the whole dorm room experience. I spent part of a summer in the dorm rooms at Georgetown and that sneak peek at what I've got to look forward to pretty much put me off dorms for life.

"Maybe," I mutter, sinking down a little in my seat.

"So did we all apply to the same colleges?" Tori asks, frowning a little. "I think we did. Besides our random college."

We all glance around at each other, except Leo, he keeps his eyes on the road. He actually passed his driving exam. As far as I know we all applied to Irvine, Berkeley, Stanford, NYU, Georgetown, and Brown. But then I applied to Columbia, Tima applied to Princeton, Tori applied to Sarah Lawrence, Andy went out for West Point (of all places), and Leo is trying for Notre Dame. He's a football player.

Actually, I always thought it was really weird that Leo started hanging out with us. I mean, he seriously had the potential to be up there with Clayton Rellings on the popularity scale. He's kind of the odd-man out in our group. But we all love him anyway, he's our Leo.

"I think we did," Andy says slowly.

"So... are we going to go to the same college?" I ask. "Because, you know I love you guys, but if I get into Columbia I don't care where the hell you guys end up."

"Thanks, Eve," Tima says dryly. "We're really overwhelmed by that outpouring of love."

"I think it'd be alright to end up at the same college," Leo says, pulling out onto Brickwood Park Drive.

"Oh, come on," Tori cries. "College is about going to new places and discovering personal potential. I mean, yeah ending up together would be nice but if I get into Berkeley that's it."

"How about if we agree that if we don't get into our first choice college, we'll all pick one that we want to go to together?" Andy suggests. "I mean, if we somehow irreversibly screwed up our applications and the only school we got into was Irvine, then we would go there."

"Sounds fair," I say. "But if I get Columbia—"

"We know," they chorus.

I grin sheepishly as Leo pulls into the Lockley place. It appears Heather's hijacked the guesthouse for this particular party. Pretty smart of her. I mean, it's not like her parents are in the guesthouse all the time so there's basically no chance of them finding out.

"Leo!" someone yells as we climb out of the Explorer into the Chinese-lantern lit front yard.

"Hey, Christine," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets as a tall blonde comes up and wraps her arms around his neck. Leo always stuffs his hands in his pockets when he feels awkward. It's one of the quirks Tima figured out in her endless analysis of all things Leo. Tima shoots death-glares at the girl's back.

"I didn't know you were coming tonight!" she says, her arms still around his neck.

"Uh... that's nice," he says awkwardly, squirming away. "Er... have you met my, uh, girlfriend?"

He grabs Fatima's wrist and drags her forward. She's got this look on her face that's between confusion, shock, and absolute ecstasy. Leo shoots her a pleading look and she smiles up at him, her entire face lighting up. It's enough to make even my cynical soul sigh.

"Oh!" Christine's face falls. "Um, hi. I didn't know... Leo never said anything about... it's nice to meet you. I-I'm going to go now."

"Oh, you don't have to," Andy says, slinging his arm around he girl's shoulders. I frown. The boy's up to something, I know it. I look up to see Tori watching Andy shrewdly for a minute and then beaming at the blonde.

"Yeah, stay!" she cries. "You can hang out with us tonight. It'll be fun!"

What am I missing here? "Uh... Tor?"

"Later," she growls. "Come on, Christine, we don't bite."

"Well, okay, if you're sure..."

"Of course!" I say, jumping into a game even though I have no clue what the game is. I tend to do that a lot. It's led to some pretty interesting situations. Like that time we tried playing chicken in the car. At the time I really didn't know what chicken was...

"Okay!" she says eagerly and follows us inside.

"Tor..."

"God, you really are slow tonight, aren't you?" she says, linking her arm through mine. "If Blondie sticks around, Leo and Tima have to pretend to be dating longer. And who knows, maybe they'll decide to keep the act going."

I grin. "Ooh. Okay, I get it."

Tori's lip curls in disgust and she pulls me into the mayhem that is a Brickwoodite party.

As stated before I don't really like these parties. At all. So I stick to Tor and Andy for a little while until they hit the dance floor and then kind of migrate around the edges. I'm not my best at these things. I don't like the crowds and the smoke and my bubble sensors go insane. So about two and a half hours after our ETA I'm ready to take off.

I shove my way between the throng of people on the dance floor. My head's spinning like crazy from the cloud of dope I just walked through and my silver strappy heels are cutting off circulation to my toes. I lost all feeling in them two hours ago. I can't find any of the guys. I last saw Tima and Leo dancing to a slow song and Tori and Andy "dancing." From my vantage point it looked more like they were trying to... you know what? Never mind. Some guy grabbed my ass about twenty minutes ago and I left him in the bathroom after giving him a nice long Swirly and sucker punching him in the gut. Idiot. All in all, I'm not in the best of moods as I head through the party. All I want is to find my friends and get the hell out of here. And then I look up.

Right in front of me is a little opening in the crowd, framing out two dancers. The girl is Heather Lockley with her red hair all curling down her back and a skintight beige top that I'm pretty sure is Prada and white miniskirt. She really is a good dancer as far as club dancing is concerned. But the guy is even better. His back is to me but that's alright. I've got a nice view of the butt area which is just fine with me. I smirk to myself as he twists and grabs Heather tight to him, his hand cupping underneath her knee. Wait a minute... I've seen that gold checked shirt before... I think it was in the Ralph Lauren cata— Clay Rellings looks up, his eyes hitting mine. We both freeze for a second. I think Heather's hair is on the ground but I'm not sure. But then Clay swings Heather back up and is dancing again.

Okay, Eve, you can breathe again. But my lungs aren't working. My legs aren't working either. I clench my fists and turn on my heel, heading outside for some fresh air. Just keep walking, Eve. You never saw him. He doesn't exist. He wasn't supposed to be here anyway. He's supposed to be home, nursing his pathetic excuse for a sprained ankle. Where are his crutches, anyway?

A hand wraps around my arm and swings me around.

"Dance with me?" He ditched the red sweater. Good, it was too preppy anyway. And he's pulled out his shirt tails and the first three and last two buttons of are undone. Seriously, though, no rich, arrogant, pretty-boy should have a chest like that. He's got this necklace that I've never seen before. Actually, it's marine dog tags. Clay catches me looking at them.

"My grandfather's best friend. He died in Normandy," he says. "Dance with me."

He grabs my hips before I can say yes or no and pulls me towards him. I swallow hard as we start to move. His hands run up my back, bare since Tima completely destroyed my top, and back down to my hips.

"Come on, Eve," he whispers challengingly and pushes at my hips. "Can't you keep up with me?"

I bite my lip a little. I mean, I never agreed to this whole thing and then he's going to start challenging me? I've got to admit, the guy knows how to get to me because like that, I'm dancing with him. Really dancing with him. I'm talking gyrating hips, little dips, and swings. But here's the crazy part: it feels so... good.

Clay smiles down at me. "Ready?"

"For what?" But suddenly my upper half is upside down and my lower half is pressed tight against Clay and his hand is in the small of my back, keeping me from falling, and he swinging me to the right and then suddenly I'm back up again, entirely tight against Clay, my arms somehow slung around his shoulders. I can feel Clay's chest press against mine as he breathes and then his hand and feet shift a little and we're moving again, my hips are circling again. Clay's breath is warm against the side of my face and I feel like I can't get a full breath in.

This isn't good. This needs to stop now. Right now. Just this second. If only I could move...

"Eve!" I look up to see Claire Gregorich from my AP French class.

"Hey!" I yell over the thudding music. Perfect. Just the kind of distraction I need. I rip myself away from Clay and turn to Claire.

"Come outside with me and get a drink!" she shouts back. I nod and we head out into the guesthouse garden, leaving Clay standing alone on the dance floor, his chest heaving and his hands clenched into fists. Heather had put up a ton of those Chinese lantern things and had a couple tables set out with drinks and food.

"I didn't know you came to these things. Killer top, by the way," Claire says, pouring herself a lemon drop.

"I don't," I answer, cracking the seal to a Diet Coke. Give me a break, I'm the designated driver.

Claire snorts when she sees me sipping from the can. "Come on, Eve, live a little."

I smile blandly and shake my head. "No thanks."

Claire rolls her eyes and gets another clear plastic cup, pouring my Diet Coke in and then adding the tiniest bit of rum. "See? No big. So why'd you come to this one?"

"My friends forced my against my will," I answer, taking a sip and feeling the instant warmth from the Puerto Rican rum.

"Nonconsensual party-going. Maybe we could do a piece on it in The Buzz."

"You've got better things to write about than that," I say with a grin. Why do Claire's eyes look so weird? Is she drooling? Crap, I hope she didn't take anything. "Claire? Claire, are you okay?"

Her eyes meet mine for a second and then flick over my shoulder. I turn and follow her gaze. I don't have to follow very far. Jesse Bonds is standing about two feet away from me. Oh, shit.

"Uh..." Come on, Eve, say something! He looks pissed.

His eyes flick over behind me. "Claire?"

"Yeah?" she asks in a dreamy voice.

"Take a hike."

"Oh. Oh, yeah, okay. I'll... I'll just be going. Then." She slinks away. Coward.

"Eve," Jesse says, stepping a little closer. God, please don't come any closer. I left my paper bag at home! Besides, what if he smells Clay's cologne on me?

"Uh... yeah?" I take a deep swallow from my rum and Coke and am tempted to scramble at the table behind me and add another hefty dose of rum to my drink. Come on, I need it.

"I really think we need to talk," he says.

"Well, see, that's the thing. I'm kind of done talking. For now. Actually, forever. Yep, I'm taking a vow of silence. Because I'm just tired of all this talking. So, yeah, I really don't think we need to talk because, well, I'm just not going to be talking anymore. So you can just, you know, go find your Ducati and never have to worry about me and talking and you again. Because I'm just not going to be talking anymore. Ever. So really there's no point to this whole conversation and we can just go along on our merry way. Not that there is a 'we.' I meant, you and I. So really there's just no reason to be— Wait. What're you doing? Jesse? What, what's going on? Where're you taking me?"

He's got his hand wrapped around my elbow and he's pulling me further out into the garden. Okay, really not good. Darkness and solitude plus Jesse Bonds and I equals very bad situation.

"Bonds? Bonds. Bonds! Look, I really don't want to have to do this but if you're going to—" Suddenly he's yanked me around in front of him, gripping my shoulders. Oh, God, is he going to...?

"Just tell me one thing, Hartford," he says seriously, staring straight into my eyes. "Are you... are you and Clay... is there anything..."

"What?" I cry, feeling my cheeks burn at the thought of what Clay and I were doing not five minutes ago. "No! No, no, no, no!"

He visibly relaxes. "Good. Don't get me wrong, Clay's an alright guy, but... the thing is, Hart— Eve. The thing is, Eve, that I... I think of you as, as a friend. And I don't want you to get hurt because Clay can be—"

God, he's really lacking in the verbal touchy-feely department. "Jesse. I appreciate the concern but I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. I think that black eye proves it."

"I wasn't expecting it! It's not like every guy is going to be as completely clueless as I was!"

I smirk. "Yeah, well, the guy who tried to grope me about an hour ago was."

"What?" he growls suddenly, staring at me intently.

"Chill, Bonds. Hotstuff is cooling off in the bathroom after a rather rough encounter with Mr. Potty."

He stares at me for a second and then bursts out laughing. "You gave him a Swirly?"

I shrug. "He pissed me off."

"Two words for you, Hartford," he says, still laughing. "Anger. Management."

"Two words for you, Bonds. Kick. Boxing."

He smiles at me. "So, Hartford, what's it going to be? Friends?"

I smile back. "I think I could live with that."

He watches me for a second, his smile fading to a frown. "Are you cold?"

"A little. But I'm heading back inside..." What is he...? Oh, my God. He's stripping off his jacket. The leather one. The one that I've been lusting after.

"Here," he says, settling it around my shoulders. "That'll keep you warm for now." Oh, God, this is just not right. First Clay, now Bonds. Come on, people, get with the program! Read your damn script! Clayton Rellings, a.k.a. Clay, arrogant, rich, bastard who never thinks of anyone but himself. No kissing old ladies' cheeks, no listening to a thirteen year old prattle on about chick stuff, no cookies and lemonade. Arrogant, chauvinistic bastard! Jesse Bonds, punk, wannabe badboy, juvenile delinquent. No looking good in the nude, no big brotheryness, no giving girls his jacket. It's all pretty simple, people!

But I feel all wobbly all the same. No one's ever given me their jacket before. Never. "Th-thanks."

He grins. "No problem. You want to head back inside?"

"Uh... sure! Yeah, let's go!" Anything so I don't have to be alone with guys that are so damn confusing! "So... do you still have the hots for me?"

"What?" he cries, staring at me incredulously.

I grin. God, I'm evil. "Well, do you?"

"Well, I... uh... well, the thing is... can we just not discuss this?" he asks, raking a hand through his hair. He does that a lot when he's frustrated.

"No. No, I think it's very important that we discuss these things if we're going to be friends," I say wisely. Oh, God, I'm evil!

"Uh... I... you... I can't... I don't... you can't possibly expect—"

My phone goes off. "Damn it!"

I pull it out of my back pocket and check the number. It's Leo's home number. Only Leo's here, at the party, not at home. I frown at the screen for a second. "We'll finish this later. Hello?"

"Eve? Thank the Lord Christ above. I am so sorry, to bother you like this but would you know where Leo is by any chance?" The voice has a faint Italian accent that gives it an almost lilting tone.

I frown at some shrubs. "Mrs. Moretti?"

"Yes, Eve, it's me. Do you know where Leo is?"

"Time?" I mouth to Jesse and glare when he only shrugs. "One second, Mrs. Moretti, let me step outside."

I lower my cell and check the time. Eleven thirty two. Leo had about thirteen minutes to get home. "Mrs. Moretti?"

"Eve," she says firmly, obviously smelling a rat. "Where is my son?"

"He and Andy just left here. We were having pizza at... Giorgio's." Nice, Eve. Very nice. Respectable, but busy. Giorgio won't be able to remember all of his customers if Mrs. Moretti decides to check the story.

"Leonardo said you were all going to a party," she says suspiciously. Damn it.

"We were," I say, casting around for a lie. "But Leo talked us out of it. He asked us not to go and be near all of that sin."

"He's a good boy when he wants to be," Mrs. Moretti said grudgingly. "I suppose he'll be home late?"

"Well, he had to drop Andy off at home..."

"Alright, Eve. Thank you. You're a good girl." I wince slightly at the praise. Mrs. Moretti doesn't compliment just anybody and it makes me feel a little guilty to think about as we say our goodbyes. I mean, I don't like Mrs. Moretti. But I don't like lying either. I almost never lie.

"'He asked us not to go and be near all of that sin?'" Jesse asks disbelievingly. "That's a little much, don't you think?"

"You've never met the Morettis," I tell him darkly. "I've got to go find Leo."

Yeah, definitely easier said than done. I hate Brickwoodite parties. So many stupid people. Bonds sticks with me for some reason, peering through the crowds as much as I am.

"Should we check upstairs?" he shouts over the music.

I shake my head. "Leo would never take Fatima up to one of the bedrooms."

A hand wraps around my arm and whips me around. "Eve..."

Okay, definitely not good. I mean, really, the last thing I need at the moment is a tipsy Clay Rellings grabbing me in a grip like iron when I'm trying to keep my friend from being sadistically murdered while another friend who is altogether too hot for his own good is helping me. Especially when that hot friend and Clay are... er... estranged.

"Clay, are you drunk?" I gasp out as he wobbles in front of me. Stupid question, I know. The guy's ready to spew all over me. Peachy.

"Dunno. Didn't have much," he pauses contemplatively. "Maybe?"

"You aren't supposed to drink with pain medication!" Of all the stupid, idiotic... No wonder he could dance without crutches! He probably doesn't even know he has an ankle let alone feel it! "Could you be more of an idiot?"

"Dunno..." And then he starts slipping forward, his head dropping down to my shoulder with a heavy groan. Panic's clawing at me. I mean, Clay's heavy! Heavier than me, anyway. Actually, heavier than Jesse, even. Clay's taller and has got more muscle to him and has broader shoulders. And while all that is normally something I admire even though I do not admire Clayton Rellings, I'm a tad apprehensive about my ability to hold all that up.

"Jesse?" I turn to see him just watching me, his blue eyes hard. "Jesse!"

His eyes flick up to meet mine and back to Clay and he slowly shakes his head. "No, Eve."

"Jesse!" I practically shriek at him, staggering a little as Clay's legs let out a little more. "He's hurt and he's drunk and he's heavy!"

"Eve, he—"

"For the love of God, Jesse, that kiss did not mean anything!"

"And the dancing?"

He saw that? And the jerk didn't say anything? "Wh-what?"

"The dancing, Eve. What about the dancing?"

"Nothing! Jesse, please!" He gazes steadily at me for a few more seconds before he comes up and lifts one of Clay's arms around his shoulders.

"Let me, let me go find Leo," I say and take off into the crowd. It doesn't take much longer. There are only a few places left to check. I find them in the den, comfortably making out on the sofa. I really don't want to disturb them. I mean, it's their first make out session but if I don't, it's going to be their last.

"Leo!" Okay, maybe I shouldn't have yelled. They jump apart guiltily.

I smile breezily at Tima and scowl at Leo. "Your mom just called me. You and Andy had better be home before midnight or you'll be lucky if they don't shave your head and stick you in a monastery."

Leo groans and looks longingly at Tima. "I've got to go."

"It's okay," she says with a beaming smile. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Leo beams back. "Yeah. Coffee?"

"Sure."

"Tomorrow then."

"Leo!"

He glances up at me and shrugs ruefully. "I'm going, I'm going."

I straighten his navy sweater. "We've been at Giorgio's all night. You talked us out of going to the party. You and Andy went home together."

He nods. "Got it. Thanks, Eve."

"Go!" He nods again and takes off to find Andy. I slump back onto the sofa next to Tima and grin wearily at her. You've got to admit, I've had quite the day.

"So, I'll take it things went well?" I ask.

She beams again. "Eve, I'm telling you this now so someone besides me will always remember the day I first knew. I'm going to marry that boy."

I smile at her, pushing myself off the couch. "Don't forget to invite me to the wedding. You'll find a way home?"

"More like I'll find a way to your house," she says with a smile.

I grin back and wave a little as I head back out into the main crowd. I spot Jesse and Clay heading into the kitchen and trot a little to catch up to them.

"How's he doing?" I ask.

Jesse grimaces at me. "Drunk as the dog he is. He can't go home, Eve."

"What? Why?"

"Because his dad'll be home by now. The senator can't know."

I stare steadily back at Jesse and for some inexplicable reason feel a little giddy. Jesse is concerned for Clay. Definite progress from the elevator episode earlier.

"Well, we can't take him to my house," I say stubbornly.

"We can take him to mine," Jesse says.

"Then what's the probl—"

"Do you have a car?"

Oh. Yeah, that could be an issue. It would be kind of awkward trying to fit the three of us on the back of the Ducati. I barely fit. And Leo had to take the Land Rover. But what about Clay...? I smile suddenly. Those Viper keys did fit perfectly in my hand...

"I'll drive Clay's car over to your place, you'll take your bike. Once we've got him settled, you can drive me home," I say triumphantly. And I get to drive the Viper again.

"Fine," Jesse says. "Let's get him to the car."

We manage to hobble outside with Clay's dead weight between us and dump his bulk into the back seat.

"Can you get his ID off of him?" I ask Jesse as we stand watching Rellings.

Jesse gives me a confused look. "His ID?

"If for some reason I get pulled over, I don't want the officer to charge me with anything."

Jesse nods and quickly dips his hand into Clay's back pocket, removing a folded square of leather. "He's got a fake ID in here somewhere..."

As soon as Jesse gets Clay's IDs switched, I climb into the driver's seat and flip the ignition. "7211 Valens Street, right?"

Jesse nods. "You sure you can drive this thing?"

I grin up at him. "Just see if you can keep up."

He smiles back and then goes over to his bike. The power steering is light as a feather under my hands as I pull out of the Lockleys' place and head down Brickwood Park Drive. If I roll down the window, I can hear the purr of Jesse's Ducati behind me as we head down the windy road to town. I don't punch it like I did earlier. I keep at a smooth sedate sixty-five. Before, I could risk being stopped or taking those kind of calculated risks. Now I can't, I've got a drunk guy in the back seat and the car I'm in is the biggest cop magnet of all time on darkened country roads.

We get back into Kirgy pretty fast all things considered and head towards Norrington Village. Want to know something ironic? Jesse Bonds and I grew up less than seven blocks away from each other. That is if he had lived in the house on Valens Street all of his life. As we pass by my old house and then Andy's, I can see a light on in Andy's room. He must have got home alright. I hope the same goes for Leo.

We pull up in front of Jesse's foster home and Jesse turns his Ducati up the driveway into the side yard and comes out just as I close the door to the Viper, his hand raking through hair matted from the helmet. And I'm struck dumb. Because standing there, with his leather jacket spread across his shoulders again and his eyes hidden by the night, bathed in moonlight, he is by far the most God awful hot Adonis I have ever seen.

His steps slow as he catches me looking at him and he gives that stupid reckless grin. "You think I'm hot."

I pretend to swoon against the red roof of the Viper and fan myself. "Oh, God, yes!"

His grin widens. "That's it. Don't deny it. You can admit the truth. This is a safe space."

I roll my eyes. "Would you get your crony out of the car and start acting serious?"

He smiles again and reaches into the depths of the back seat to grip Clay. You know... the way he's bent over like that... well, it affords me quite the view of the back of his jeans. And believe me, I am not complaining. But then he has Clay half out of the back seat and turns to glower at me.

"A little help please?"

"What? Oh! Sorry!" I rush forward and slip my hands beneath Clay's left arm and help haul him out.

"I've got him from here," Jesse says, slinging Clay's arm over his shoulders again. "Just go open the front door."

He and an unconscious Clay follow me up the front walk and through the door. I have to wrap Clay's other arm around my shoulders to get up the stairs and I can only imagine how we're going to get him up the attic steps when Jesse pulls them down. He smiles ruefully at me.

"I'll haul him up by the shoulders if you take his feet," he says. "I think we can manage without waking Nana or David."

"David?" I ask, curious in spite of the work of holding up Clay's lower half while climbing the attic stairs.

"Nana's other foster son. He's twelve and a heavy sleeper, don't worry."

We finally get Clay up into the attic and over to the couch. Jesse flicks on the light and we both go to check on Clay. His breathing's even and he seems to be asleep. Lucky bastard.

"He'll be fine here, tonight," Jesse says, getting a blanket from the closet and covering him with it. "Do you think he'll be alright?"

I frown down at Clay for a minute. My mom's been on tons of pain medication since her diagnosis so I know a few things about it. One being that it doesn't mix with alcohol. "He'll have one hell of a hangover in the morning."

Jesse smiles. "If that's the worst then we have nothing to worry about. I can go to sleep?"

That's when I figure out what he's really asking. He wants to know if he needs to sit up with Clay all night to make sure nothing goes wrong. For some strange reason, I find it touching. I mean, clearly the guy had a thing for me and his best friend made a move on me yet right now he's offering to stay up all night to make sure that same friend is okay. It's either touching because of his love for his friend or insulting because obviously I didn't mean much.

"You can go to sleep," I say with a smile. "He'll be fine."

"Should I take you home now?"

"Yeah," I say. "Tima and probably Tori will be waiting for me."

He nods and gestures for me to follow him downstairs. Jesse doesn't turn on any of the lights, probably to not wake up Mrs. Barrows. But, see, that's kind of a problem for me seeing as I'm pretty much night blind from the lights in Jesse's room and have no idea where I am.

"Bonds?" I hiss, feeling at the next attic step with the toe of my silver heel. It's reminding me a bit too much of the time I fell down my apartment stairs. In these shoes, actually. "Jesse?"

I can hear him sigh and turn but I can't see it. Of course, I can't see him. I'm night blind. I really hate my life.

"Jesse, I can't see!"

"Hold on," he mutters and I can't help but jump when his hands land on my waist, lifting me up and off the stairs. His hand curls around mine as he guides me down the hall and for some completely inexplicable reason my heart's going about a mile a minute. I mean, the stairs really freaked me out and everything but that's no reason my breath to come so short. I don't like him or anything.

"Don't get any ideas, Bonds," I say to just, you know, clarify. "If you so much as contemplate sexually harassing me, I will so kick your—"

"Relax, Evie." Is he laughing at me? "Your precious virtue is safe from my nefarious hands."

I grumble something unintelligible, even to me, and curse vividly when I miss the first step of the stairs. "You could have told me."

"Where's the fun in that?"

I so cannot be held responsible if I kill him. Really. Obviously, it would be completely justified. Listen to the buttface. Did I just use the word buttface? God, I need some sleep.

"Eve?"

I jump a little. "Huh?"

"Were you asleep?" Bonds asks incredulously.

Huh. Somehow I'm standing in the orange-y glow of the streetlight, staring at Jesse's bike. "I guess I might have dozed off there."

"Just be careful on the bike. The last thing I need is to be scraping your guts off the asphalt with a spatula."

I freeze mid-step. Well, that's an interesting image. Interesting enough to make that little bit of Puerto Rican rum to churn in my stomach. I hate alcohol.

I swing my leg over the Ducati as Jesse starts it up and then we purr down the driveway and onto Valens Street. My stomach roils a little when he made a sharp turn and I clutch a little harder at his waist. I never drink alcohol; I really hate that stuff. Look what it does to my system! Another turn. I'm starting to feel a little dizzy. I'm starting to think getting on this bike wasn't the best idea I've ever had. Left at the light. Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick. Ugh...

"Jesse. Pull over."

"Huh?"

"Pull over!"

"But—"

"Now!" The last thing I need is to puke into this helmet. That is the last thing I need. But then we're over at the side of the road and I'm yanking my helmet off and running for some bushes bathed in the orange street light.

"Oh, God," I mutter as another dizzy spell hits and drops me to my hands and knees. My stomach gives a weird gurgle and I can feel my head spinning. My hair's all over the place, ripped loose by the helmet and I just know I'm going to get puke all in it.

"Eve?" I open my mouth to answer him. Too late. The last time I had a puke fest it was on a ferry from Catalina Island Marine Institute in fifteen foot swells and then I felt instant relief and fell asleep on the first level. Not so now. Probably because it's just not ending. My guts are coming up through my mouth, my throat is burning, and my eyes are tearing. I hate alcohol. But then my hair is out of my face and a soothing hand is rubbing gently at my back.

I wipe at my mouth when I'm done and spit out the lingering taste of bile and vomit when I'm finally through.

"You alright?" Jesse asks from somewhere above me.

"Yeah," I breathe, twisting and sliding till I can sit on the curb. "Yeah. I'm fine."

He drops down beside me an pushes some hair behind my ear. "What happened?"

"I don't drink alcohol. Super susceptible and all that. Plus I haven't had a whole lot to eat or drink today and I'm not very big."

"No," he says and I glance over to see him grinning at something across the street but when I look all I see is the bus stop and an empty lot. "No, you're definitely not very big."

There's a pause while Jesse's smile fades and I thrust some of my stupid hair out of my face. There's a reason I always wear it up. It tickles my bare back as we sit out on the street, the almost autumn-y November air making goosebumps rise on my arms.

"Can I ask you something, Eve?"

"Mmnhhg," I say intelligently.

"Why'd you do it? Make me help Clay and everything. Why do you care? Do you care?"

"I don't know. Why'd I help Leo with his mom? Or Tima with her cousin or Tori and Andy with their parents? Why do I go off to different countries and help people there? I don't know." And you know the sad part? I really don't. "My therapist used to say that people who help others often do it because they can't help themselves so they take on someone else's problems."

"Does he still say that?"

"Don't know. I haven't seen her in years."

"Why were you seeing her in the first place?"

I sigh. So we're going to get in this, are we? "My parents divorce, my dad's stalker-ish issues, my identity crisis, our sudden financial destitution, my plummet in grades, my mom's illness, the loss of my family."

Jesse gives a long, low whistle. "Want to talk about it?"

I sigh again, pressing my hands together between my knees. "I used to talk about it a lot. A way of making it normal, I guess. I don't so much anymore. My dad had an affair when I was fourteen with a lady I really admired. She was my cousin's best friend and colleague and I never worried about the time she spent with my dad. She was a lesbian after all. It turns out she was actually bi and broke up my parents marriage. A whole bunch of lies got spread and my family cut my mom and I off. I have twenty-three aunts and uncles, did you know that?"

"No," Jesse says quietly.

"Twenty-three. And forty-something cousins, most of them with kids. I haven't spoken to any of them in almost four years. For a while things stayed pretty normal but my mom couldn't stand to even look at my dad but he wouldn't stay away. So I told him to go. It was one of the hardest thing I ever had to do. And then my mom changed her mind after I had made myself hate him and forced me to bring him back into my life. Then she started hating him again and I finally shut him out for the last time. I sank into a depression for a while. I couldn't take it. I cracked. I was broken. I felt like some little two-year-old picked me up and slammed me against the wall a few times and left me for dead. Like Humpty-Dumpty. I didn't know what to do. And then my mom told me about her disease and I found out how we didn't have any money... I was really scared for the first time in my life. Things got better. I got a job. My mom brought in enough money from real estate to last us ten years or so if we were careful. I got my grades up in time for freshman year. Sorted a couple other things out and got on with my life. I haven't spoken to my dad since then."

My voice has gotten thick, like my throat's closed up, and my eyes are burning. Suddenly, I realize Jesse has his arm around me and is gently pressing my head onto his shoulder. For a second I think about fighting him on it but then give up on that. I'm too tired for any fighting.

"Rebecca Hartford isn't really my mom. Did you know that? I mean, she's my mom. She's the woman who raised me. But she's not my mom. I was adopted when I was a year old. My birth mother was Justine Rodriquez. I never knew about my heritage until my parents separation. It was just the frosting on the cake."

After that, we're quiet. Well, I'm quiet. I was the only one talking. Jesse's hand is clenched on my hair near the base of my neck and he's slowly working at the cords there, stroking down my hair every now and then. The whole thing's one big wavy mess and I can't quite figure out why he keeps petting it. But I don't worry about it for too long.

"I'm sorry, Eve," he murmurs suddenly. I hate it when people tell me they're sorry. It's not like it does anything. Besides making me feel crappy for ever mentioning anything. "If I had known I would never have said those things in the hospital."

"Hindsight's always 20/20," I say numbly.

He pushes me away and reaches up to cup my face, stroking away the tears on my cheeks with his thumbs. Something in my stomach tightens and for a second I'm afraid I'll puke again but this is something different. His blue eyes are boring into mine. They're like a magnet. I can't look away. He gives me a lopsided, reckless grin.

"You're something special, Eve Hartford." Then his eyes flick to the side of my face and he pushes my hair back. "You should wear it down more often. It's pretty. I like it."

I snort and swipe at my wet face. "It seems like all I do around you is cry."

He drops his other hand from my face. "Then maybe I should just stay away."

For some reason my stomach tightens again. "No. I like having you around. Like this."

He smiles at me and pushes himself up off the curb, stretching a hand down to me.

I eye him suspiciously, a teen flick plot coming to mind. "You and Clay don't have some kind of bet going, do you?"

His smile widens. "No, Eve. Clay and I do not have a bet."

"Good." I reach up and take his hand, letting him haul me to my feet.

He glances around. "I think we're pretty close to your place. Do you want to just walk from here?"

I look around. We're only about four blocks away. "Will your bike be okay?"

"It'll be fine. Let's get a move on, Hartford." And then he reaches over and threads his fingers through mine. I glance down at our linked hands and then up at him, one brow rising. I feel his hand loosen and, for some reason, tighten mine. He smiles down at me.

"You really are something special, Hartford." And then he's tugging me down the sidewalk, gently swinging our hands and brushing his shoulder against mine as we go.