Chapter 16: A Party Suited for Disaster

RINA'S POV

TEN YEARS PRIOR

"Please, please, please, please, please," Jen begged me at lunch the Friday before Spring Break. Sam sat quietly beside her, staring at the chipped black nail polish on his fingers while his girlfriend tried desperately to convince me to come to some house party she wanted to attend that evening. She mostly wanted me to go so her ultrastrict navy chief father would let her out of the house. He had no idea she was dating Sam (and he'd blow a gasket if he did) but he apparently liked me enough to let Jen come over to my house on the weekends without asking too many questions.

"Jen, for God's sake, do you not remember what happened the last time I went to a party? Everyone called me a slut, and I caused a fist fight in the middle of the hallway," I reminded her, unwrapping the Italian sub that Monica had packed me for lunch. "Besides, I have to study. I've got a big exam in calculus next week and I'm barely holding onto my A- as it is."

"You already got into the University of Richmond, UVA, and Duke. You can take a break from calculus for one night and come hang out with me," Jen argued. "Besides, you won't be going there with Kyle." She paused to pretend to gag. "You'll be going with me. I'll make sure there's zero rumors started about you and do my best to keep you out of any fist fights." She looked at me for a long moment when I didn't immediately say yes, her heavily lined eyes getting big again. "Please, Rina. Next week is spring break and I won't get to see Sam until we get back. Plus, you owe me for ditching me at Homecoming."

I rolled my eyes. I never did tell Jen the whole story of why I couldn't go to Homecoming. Just that I got grounded for a misunderstanding. She was mad at me for like two days because her father almost didn't let her go to the dance, but she got over it by the time lunch rolled around the following Monday. She, unlike me, was not the type to hold grudges.

"I told you, I wanted to go to Homecoming, but my foster parents freaked out and said no at the last minute," I lied. It wasn't exactly Monica who wouldn't let me go. It was Principal Harris, who I could tell wasn't entirely convinced of my innocence even all these months later. He still looked at me like I was a junkie polluting his school every time I passed him in the halls. I tried not to let it bug me. "Whose party is it, anyways? Vince Dittmer's again?"

"No, not his. I'm not sure who's throwing it. I don't even think they go to our school. But it's, like, huge. Like, kids from that private school near Falls Church and the other high school on the other side of the county are all talking about it on Facebook."

"With that many people, don't you think the cops are going to bust it before it even gets good?" I asked, eyebrows raised. Monica and Chet were protective, but Christ, if Jen's dad got a call from the cops that she was at a party? She'd be enrolled in military school before the sun was up.

"Probably. But we'll just make a run for it if they do. They can't catch all of us," she said, cheerful as ever and completely unconcerned with how many other horrible things that could happen at a party of that magnitude. "Please, Rina? You're going off to college in a few months. Don't you think we should do something fun before you leave me here to fend for myself?"

Jen was a junior, and when Sam and I graduated in June, she'd be stuck here another year, assuming her dad didn't get shipped off to a different base before then.

"Jesus, you're persistent with the guilt trips today," I grumbled under my breath, taking a big bite of my sandwich while I considered it. A huge party with a bunch of kids I didn't know? It sounded risky. But Easton had largely left me alone since Christmas break besides a few lingering looks in the hallway. And even if he still had a stick up his ass about me going out, at a party filled with that many people we didn't know, it was unlikely he'd even know I was there. "Fine," I finally said after a few moments of deliberation. "But you guys better not make me feel like a third wheel and you better not leave me there alone."

EASTON'S POV

TEN YEARS PRIOR

Though the party technically started at seven p.m.—a time at which I knew my father would be thirty-thousand feet in the air, halfway across the country—it wasn't until well past nine that things started to pick up. By that time, a good portion of the senior class was scattered throughout my house in various stages of intoxication, alongside a slew of people from other schools I either barely knew or had never seen before in my life.

I was in the corner by myself, nursing my fourth beer and just barely beginning to feel a slight buzz. Before when I'd thrown parties, I'd been in the center of the action, like a King holding court over his subjects. But now, I surveyed the scene from afar with little to no interest in it, my thoughts drifting far, far away from a party that I would have been elated to be a part of just months prior. Now, instead of feeling immersed in what used to be my Kingdom, I felt distant and disconnected, like I was in my own bubble. I could see everything happening around me—I could hear it, imagine what it would be like to get involved—but there was a barrier between me and it. One that was invisible, but dense.

Ricky kept glancing at me every so often, like he was tempted to come talk to me but didn't know how to start the conversation. It was obvious why he felt that way. I hadn't been myself for months, and he and I both knew why. It was because of Rina. My fixation with her had taken over my entire life, and now I couldn't even enjoy myself at my own party.

Whenever she wasn't around, I felt drained and lifeless, completely numb like I was watching a film reel of my life instead of actually living it. But whenever she was there, I felt alive in the worst possible way—burning, desperate, and angry. I felt all the wrong things at once and it made it hard to focus on anything but her. I couldn't decide which feeling I hated more.

So, when I saw Rina walk into my house a few moments later, it felt like a flip was switched in my head. I was partly angry that she was there and partly relieved, but Ricky just looked at me like I'd lost my mind. And I had. Rina had driven me crazy, and she didn't even know it.

She was there with her short emo friend and said emo friend's boyfriend—the only guy I'd let in Rina's general vicinity for months, and only because he was interested in her friend, not her. She looked almost unrecognizable in a figure-hugging dress and black heels. Her dark, curly brown hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, her full lips covered with a swipe of red lipstick, and she had on a pair of hoop earrings that I'd never seen her wear before. She looked gorgeous, but the second I laid eyes on her, my blood ran cold. The beer in my hand suddenly tasted sour.

A familiar feeling of bitterness began building in my chest—one part jealousy, one part longing, and one part anger. It was obvious she'd shown up tonight looking like that to impress somebody, and I knew better than to think that person might be me. I bit back the urge to approach her, knowing that nothing good could come of it. But after watching every head in the room turn in her direction—she had no problem drawing male attention normally, but dressed like this, she was like a magnet—it was hard to control myself. I wanted everyone to stay away from her, and here she was, showing up to my party looking like a goddamn vixen just to remind me that she was gorgeous and I still couldn't have her.

I hated her for doing this to me, but I hated myself more. Because no matter how much she detested me, I still wanted her. And that was new to me. I wasn't used to being rejected in general, and I especially hadn't counted on not being able to move on afterward. But the second I ran into Rina, I couldn't get her out of my head. It was insane and irrational, because here I was, completely infatuated with a girl who only ever looked at me like she wanted me to drop dead.

She walked towards the kitchen behind her friend, hips-swaying, completely at ease, even though I knew she could feel me watching her. That invisible bubble I felt separating me from everyone else in the room popped as soon as she passed directly in front of me. For the first time all night, I felt present in the moment, but it was in the worst way possible. I wanted her to look at me, acknowledge my existence, but she didn't even glance in my direction. I growled underneath my breath, my eyes boring into the back of her head as a familiar sense of rage bubbled inside my chest. She was in my house, acting as if she belonged here, and still not giving me the time of day.

I chugged the rest of my beer, livid, all self-restraint I'd been holding on to flying out the window as I watched my teammates stare at her ass. She couldn't be here. She was going to make me lose my mind—what little of it was still intact.

This party was a bad idea. All I wanted was to throw a rager like I used to before Rina moved here, to forget for a singular night that I was drowning. But she ruined it just like she ruined everything else. I wanted to hate her for it. But I knew I couldn't. My reaction to seeing her here proved it. The intense feelings of longing, lust, and jealousy that hit me all at once every single time I laid eyes on her meant only one thing: I'd fallen in love with her. I didn't know how or why or when but I knew I couldn't leave her alone even if I wanted to.

RINA'S POV

TEN YEARS PRIOR

Easton was in the corner lurking like a lion stalking its prey. Even when I wasn't looking at him, I could feel his eyes staring daggers into my back. He was relentless, in the corner by himself, sipping from a flask with his face fixed into a permanent scowl. He never let up, never took his eyes off me, and I'd never felt more vulnerable in my life.

I wanted to keep tight to Jen, so at least I could distract myself from Easton's unwavering scowls by feigning conversation with her. But she and Sam had wandered off in search of drinks, and I hadn't seen her in what felt like an hour. It felt like August, like I was the new kid all over again, lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces save for the one I wanted to see least—his.

I wish I'd bothered to investigate whose house this was before I'd waltzed in as dumb and blind as Hansel and Gretel stumbling into the witch's home. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course this was Easton's house. I should have known. It was the biggest house I'd ever laid eyes on, which was a feat in and of itself considering this county was one of the richest in the country. Of course Easton's father, the former-NFL-quarterback-turned-real-estate-tycoon, would own something this ostentatious.

I guess a part of me just didn't expect Easton to throw a party of this magnitude. I knew better than anyone how much Easton detested anyone invading his privacy. And here he was, sharing his home with what seemed like two hundred drunken teenagers, most of whom I was positive didn't even go to our school. I could count on one hand the number of faces I recognized, and that was including Jen.

My anxiety felt like it was creeping around my throat like a noose. It was like committing a cardinal sin, walking into Easton's home uninvited. He hated nothing more than seeing me outside of school, and I would pay for tonight. I was certain of it. My only hope was that I could find Jen and leave before he decided to approach me.

Why, why, why did I not drive myself here?

Under Easton's steady glare, the short, black dress and tights Jen had convinced me to wear felt oppressive, the room a million degrees too hot. I wanted a drink, if only to stifle my nerves, but I wasn't going to wander farther into Easton's home in search of one. With the look he was giving me, I could tell the living room was enough of an intrusion as it was.

I looked around the room, avoiding Easton's eyes but desperately searching for Jen or another familiar face. I'd settle for quite literally anyone I knew from school if it could distract me from the sense of impending doom sitting in my stomach like a block of lead. My eyes locked with a boy with a mop of dirty blond hair who looked about one sip shy of keeling over. He had a red solo cup in his hand and a sheen of sweat across his forehead. I gulped because this was not a familiar face, and it was too late to look away now. He was half-walking-half-stumbling in my direction, wedging his way through bodies on the dance floor with a sloppy, determined grin plastered on his admittedly-handsome face.

My eyes drifted in Easton's direction automatically and my stomach dropped at what I saw. His eyes were narrowed not on me, but on the blond boy headed towards me. It was like watching a nightmare come to life. I knew what was going to happen, but I stood frozen, unsure of exactly how to stop it. I could leave, but where would I go? Outside into the rain? Farther into Easton's home, where I was certain he would follow me? My only option was to seem as uninteresting as possible, so the drunken kid would walk away before Easton had a chance to cause a scene.

The blond boy was five feet away from me when I finally tore my eyes away from Easton and back in his direction. His face lit up like a Christmas tree the second our eyes met and I knew getting rid of him would be harder than I thought. He seemed too drunk to stand, let alone to recognize social cues.

"Hi," he half-yelled over the music. When his breath hit my face, it smelled like bottom-shelf vodka. No chaser.

My eyes darted back towards where Easton was standing, expecting to find him glaring at me—or worse, headed in this direction—but instead I saw his back retreating towards an adjoining room. My shoulders relaxed slightly. If I could get rid of my unwitting suitor, maybe I could slip out of the room without Easton noticing.

"What's your name?" He asked, either too drunk to notice or too drunk to care that I'd ignored his initial greeting.

"Rina," I forced out through gritted teeth, my eyes still focused on where Easton disappeared.

"I'm Bryce," he said back, his words slurred. He took an unsteady step closer to me, either out of curiosity or because he'd gotten shoved from behind. The room was so packed I wasn't sure how anyone could move. "Are you here with anyone?"

"Yes, I'm with a friend," I said, finally tearing my gaze back to his face. He was cute, even for how sloppy drunk he was. His skin was sweaty but clear, his eyes a turquoise-blue, and his mop of blond hair fell across his forehead in a bowl cut. If Bryce wasn't too wasted to remember this tomorrow, and if Easton wasn't lurking in the general vicinity like a circling shark, I might not feel so adamant about getting rid of him.

"Your boyfriend?" He asked, taking another sip from what I suspected was straight vodka—I could smell it as he brought it to his lips.

"No, she's a girl," I said loudly so my voice would carry over the music. I thought about lying for a second. Maybe if he thought I was taken, it would make him leave. But I was so anxious that the words slipped out of my mouth like a nervous tick before I knew what I was doing.

"Does that mean you're single?" He shouted back, grinning a shamelessly flirtatious smile. He had a bit of an overbite, his teeth a little big for his mouth, but his eyes sparkled when he smiled like a little kid's. I was used to Easton's biting, icy glare. In comparison, Bryce's eyes were softer, open and warm, even if he was too drunk to remember my name tomorrow. I relaxed slightly with him in front of me, eager for a distraction from the nightmare I was currently living through.

"Yes. I think boys are scared of me," I said, and Bryce smiled like it was a joke. It wasn't, though. Other than Bryce, not a single boy had even glanced in my direction since October. They avoided me like the plague.

He laughed. "You don't seem so scary to me. Why don't you come dance with me?"

"I'm not a good dancer."

"Come on. You can't be that bad," he said, stepping closer. We were less than a foot apart now, though that was more out of necessity. There were so many people packed into the room that there wasn't space for us to be farther apart. My back was pressed against the wall, there were people on either side of me, and even more directly behind Bryce. We were packed like sardines, and I kept feeling a rush of cold air every time the front door opened and more people stepped into the room.

"Well, I don't think there's much room in here to dance anyways," I yelled back over the music. But Bryce either didn't hear me or disregarded what I said completely. The next thing I knew, his free hand came down on my hipbone, and he stepped closer to me, his face six inches from mine. I gulped. This was a bad idea. Bryce was drunk and we were in Easton's house, even if I didn't know where he went.

Bryce didn't say anything. He just grinned, and the hand on my hip pulled me forward from the wall. In my heels, I stumbled into him like a baby giraffe taking its first steps, the momentum knocking us both into the people behind him. He pretended like it didn't happen though, moving his hips in time with the beat of the music. I sucked in a breath when his arm wrapped around my back. I could feel his breath against my ear, hot and wet. He felt about as drunk as he smelled. He was stumbling as he swayed, knocking us both into other people, all of whom were either too drunk to notice or too used to getting shuffled around by now to care.

When I felt something icy splash on my shoes, I looked down briefly to see Bryce's red solo cup getting kicked around on the ground. When I looked back up at him, he just grinned back, licking his lips. I wasn't certain if he'd dropped it on purpose or if it had slipped until both of his hands slid down my back and to my ass. I was half-frozen, the illusion of normalcy shattered. It was one thing to let a drunk guy flirt with me. It was entirely another to let him touch me like this when he'd barely even asked my name. The earlier sense of dread I'd felt came rushing back and my eyes once again darted around the sea of faces in the living room but still saw no one I knew.

The music was so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts and Bryce's face was so close to mine that I was scared to move in case he took it as an invitation. I didn't want a drunken stranger to kiss me, and I certainly didn't want him touching me like this. I opened my mouth, raising an arm to shove against his chest, but he was yanked backwards before I had the chance. His hands, still gripping my ass, pulled me along for the ride. I could barely comprehend what was happening before I heard Easton's voice, booming even over the music, "Get your fucking hands off of her."

My eyes darted over Bryce's shoulder to where Easton was standing, towering over the both of us and gripping the back of Bryce's neck with clenched, angry fingers. His eyes were slitted and cold, glaring at Bryce like he was a cockroach. When Bryce—who seemed too drunk and confused to understand what Easton was saying—didn't immediately let go of me, Easton lowered his head to his ear and growled, just as loudly, "Did you not hear me? I said to get your dirty fucking hands off of her before I snap them off your wrists."

Bryce, to his credit, immediately let me go. I stumbled back against the wall again, desperate to get away from both of them, looking around the room like a deer caught in headlights.

Easton whipped Bryce around to face him, his eyes slitted in rage, and then grabbed the front of Easton's shirt.

"Whoa, man!" Bryce exclaimed, his hands trembling at his sides. He looked like a shaken child next to Easton. "What is your issue? I don't even know you."

"Easton!" I demanded, trying to step in between the two of them. Bryce was drunk and clearly overstepping boundaries, but he was also a stranger who had no idea what he'd gotten himself into. As someone who'd experienced Easton's wraith firsthand, I felt like I had to do something. Easton ignored me, though, his eyes never straying from Bryce's face.

"Do you have any idea whose house you're in?" He demanded, his voice menacing.

"No, man, I have no idea," Bryce slurred in a rush. His words all ran together, and I wasn't sure if it was because of the liquor or Easton. "My buddies and I heard about this party on Facebook."

"It's mine," Easton seethed. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, coming into a stranger's home and feeling up a girl you don't know like that?"

"We were just dancing," Bryce stuttered. "She seemed into me. I had no idea she was your girl, man, I swear!"

"I am not his anything," I snapped, yanking on Easton's arm. Easton shook me off like I was a rag doll, his eyes still locked on Bryce, one hand still gripping the collar of Bryce's shirt. "You and I both know your real issue is with me, Easton. Leave him out of it."

"Rina, leave," he spat, his eyes narrowing on Bryce.

"Let him go and I will."

"I'm not going to tell you again. Leave," he seethed. "Before I forcibly remove you."

I cackled at that. "Go ahead. You have to let him go to remove me anyways," I snarled, my voice mocking. He finally turned his eyes on me at that, his glare hot enough to melt steel, and he looked like he was about to lose his mind. I stared back at him in challenge, waiting for him to make the next move, but he just cut his eyes back to Bryce.

"How many of your buddies are at my place?" Easton asked in a low growl.

"Six of us," Bryce said, barely audible over the music.

"Find them and get the fuck out of my house," Easton snarled, "before I rip your fucking throat out."