"I think Nora is old enough now to not need a babysitter," Connor counters smoothly, then turns to me with a conspiratorial glance. "Besides, we have some catching up to do, right?"

"We do," I affirm, tasting victory.

Nate looks ready to explode. I twist the knife deeper, nodding toward Farrah at the bar. "I think your girlfriend is waiting for you."

I get rid of the beer bottles and take Connor's hand. “Come on, let's dance Connor.”

We leave Nate to stew in his anger as we join the pulsing crowd on the dance floor. Bodies press close, the air thick with sweat and bass. Connor pulls me into his rhythm, hands finding my hips. "He looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel," he chuckles.

"Connor, just dance," I cut him off, not interested in dissecting Nate's reactions.

"Damn, Wells, you're not the shy little girl anymore. Kind of sexy," he murmurs appreciatively.

I turn, pressing my back against him, arms threading behind his neck as I lose myself to the music. Across the room, Nate's gaze burns into us. If looks could kill, we'd both be ash.

Connor's hands grow bolder, his breath hot on my neck, pushing past my comfort zone and I start to panic.

“I, uhh… I need to use the bathroom," I blurt, needing escape.

"I can come?" he offers, half-joking.

"To help with what exactly?"

"Well, there are a few things I can think of," he smirks.

"I'm good," I state firmly, pulling away before he can respond.

I weave through the crowd, past a coffee table where lines of cocaine disappear amid cheers. I don't know where I'm going; I just need space.

Door after door yields no bathroom, until Jake's voice catches me. "There you are." His arm finds it’s way around my shoulders.

"Why is it so hard to find a bathroom in this place? Shouldn't there be like twelve on this floor?" I deflect, trying to lighten my mood.

Jake laughs and leads me around the corner to a line of drunk teenagers waiting for the bathroom.

"So when did you become such a ladies' man?" I tease.

"Shut up.” He nudges me, blushing. "Hang on, are you implying that I'm hot?"

"In my eyes, you'll forever be the kid who ate purple crayons."

"I was testing if they actually tasted like grapes," he protests, "and you promised that would be our secret."

I mime zipping my lips, but our levity fades as Jake sobers. "So, Nate's pissed off because I brought you here."

"I'm aware," I reply, masking frustration with a tight smile. "Is there anything that doesn't piss him off these days?"

Jake straightens, tension visible. "It's Nate's world, we're all just living in it," he says, sarcasm barely masking truth.

"Well, in the real world, not everything revolves around what ticks your brother off," I counter.