Jake scoffs. "Why not, Nate? Jesus. Why should she be cooped up at home with our moms?"

His casual dismissal of my concerns grates on me. These people are toxic and she doesn't need to be dragged into this.

Or maybe it's me—I'm the toxic one, and I don't want her caught up in my mess.

"Take her home."

“What's your problem?"

"Are you being serious right now? You brought her here. Then you left her, and now she's over there with that fucking dropkick."

"Okay? So she's talking to Connor. Big deal, they're not⁠⁠—"

I cut him off. "Take her home."

"If she wants to leave, I'll take her home. Until then, why don't you go smoke another joint and relax while the rest of us enjoy ourselves?" His smug tone is like a slap in the face. To add insult to injury, he brushes past me, patting my shoulder condescendingly.

Little fucker.

I scan the chaotic mess of a party again, searching for Nora through the haze of smoke and bodies. The room spins slightly with each pulse of music, reminding me how fucked up everything has gotten since she walked back into my life.

"Nate, you gotta try this, man!" A guy named Tyler thrusts a baggie at me, his smile too wide, pupils blown. "It's primo stuff, man, just like acid."

I stare down at the tiny, potent promise of escape in his hand. The urge to snatch it, to let the chemical bliss wash away everything—her face, her laugh, her everything—is almost overwhelming. But then I remember her eyes, wide and clear, looking right through me earlier today.

"I'm good." My voice barely cuts through the bass as I back away, hands shoved deep in my pockets to keep them from betraying me. Tyler shrugs and turns back to his eager audience.

Every step through the crowd is fueled by a mix of dread and anticipation. I should walk away, let her enjoy her night without me looming over her like some dark cloud. But I can't. Every instinct screams at me to find her, to make sure she's okay.

And then I see her, across the room, smiling up at Connor. The sight of his hand casually touching her arm, ignites a wildfire in my chest. I want to tear him away from her, to shout that she's off limits. But she's not mine to claim, and that realization is a cold knife twisting in my gut.

Why am I even here?

I'm just the fucked-up guy with too many demons, watching from the sidelines while she lights up the room. But even as I debate turning around and leaving, my feet carry me closer to her, each step heavier than the last.