I gasped. “No, no, no. You totally can’t!”

She laughed, nodding dramatically. “I have to,” she said. “It’s my duty.” Her shoulders sank. “I won’t mess up again.”

“Oh, Hannah, stop.” I wrapped her in a hug. “It wasn’t anything any of us could’ve prevented. Trust me. No one saw it coming.” Especially me. “Brandon”—I said his name through gritted teeth—“it’s all on him. And it’s in the past. I’m so over it.” And it was amazing how true that felt. The guilt and shame and blame he’d made me feel over the event—it was bullshit. It wasn’t my fault. I hadn’t asked for it. My body was mine, my choice. Who I gave it to and what I did with it. Not anyone else’s.

“Okay,” she said, brightening again. “I haven’t gotten to see Jake outside of school this whole time.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the door. “Thanks for this,” she said. “Now hurry the hell up!”

I laughed, rolling my eyes as I fished my keys out of my bag.

Fifteen minutes later, I was—once again—the third wheel to the Hannah/Jake lovefest, but this time around I didn’t feel so alone. There were plenty of people at the party, but that wasn’t it, either.

It was Dean. The way we were together. The way he made me feel. It was like this impenetrable force field surrounding me—as long as he was mine, nothing could touch me. Was this love? Was this what that felt like?

Intoxicating, more so than the booze the party offered but I’d refused to touch.

After that night, I’d never wanted to be in an out-of-control position again—not that I faulted anyone else for indulging.

I glanced at my cell again, checking to see if Dean was on his way.

He wasn’t.

I scanned the area. Jake and Hannah were wrapped up in each other, understandably making up for lost time since she’d been grounded. Jake’s parents were out of town prompting the whole party in the first place. Music filtered throughout the house and a variety of couples danced in the entertainment room. Others simply chatted, played beer pong or other drinking games. The same party regardless of when or where.

My skin prickled, an awareness rippling over my skin like the sting of sunburn. I must’ve spotted him from the corner of my eye without realizing.

Brandon.

Drunk.

His booming laugh dominated from the beer pong table, Sabrina sloppily falling all over him.