Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it for a second, eyeing my parents who sat at the kitchen island a little too conspicuously, eating out of a carton of rocky road.

“How’d it go?” Dad asked around a spoonful of ice cream.

A thrill raced up my spine at thoughts of tonight. It was quickly blasted down by the embarrassment I knew I didn’t need to feel but did anyway. “Great,” I said and bolted up the stairs to my room.

Digging in my drawers for my pajamas, I was swallowed by the sea of emotions storming my mind. Memories of that night…flooded me until I was right back there.

“This is so the party that never ends,” I whispered in Hannah’s ear. She giggled from where she sat on Jake’s lap.

“Where’s Brandon?” she asked, glancing around the football player’s house. One of Jake’s buddies was throwing the party. A massive celebration before summer conditioning for the team started.

“I don’t know,” I said, slightly grumbling. “Probably getting another drink.”

Hannah flashed me a sympathetic look. Brandon wasn’t like Jake—attentive and careful with the alcohol—but I was hoping he might morph into something closer to who he’d been when we’d first gotten together almost a year ago. Fun and flirty and less enamored with the keg stands.

Still, I was ready to leave. I’d left my gear at home—at the frustrated huffs from Brandon when I went to grab it—and I had a string of code pricking my brain.

“Amber! Babe!” Brandon hollered from down the hall.

“Speak of the devil,” I said, laughing as I pushed off the couch.

“Come here,” he called again. I rounded the corner, spotting him half out of the bathroom. “I need your help.” His words were slightly slurred.

I sighed, walking toward him. He was probably sick and didn’t want anyone to know.

“You all right?” I asked as I reached the door. He yanked me inside and shut it behind me before answering.

“I’m perfect now,” he said, his breath coated in the metallic tang of cheap beer. He pressed his body into mine, my spine tight against the closed door. His tongue darted over my lips, greedier than usual.

“Whoa, there,” I said, gently shoving him backward an inch. He’d nearly choked me with how sloppy the kiss had been.

“Whoa, there, yourself.” His eyes trailed the length of my body, pausing on my legs peeking out of my short purple skirt and the dark silk V-neck shirt that hugged my curves. “Do you know how fucking sexy you look?” He reached down, sliding his hand over my leg, up and over my hip, until he gripped my breast.

“Brandon,” I said, shifting so his hand wound around my back. “You’re drunk.”