The hoodie smelled like him, like Manson. It reminded me of the autumn leaves outside, cloudy days, and bonfires.

What the hell was I doing? What had I done?

I rejoined Ashley at our table in the dining area, glad to find that our food had already arrived. She was groaning over her plate of pancakes, resting her forehead on her palm.

“I’m never drinking again,” she said miserably. I smiled and reached across the table to pat her head in sympathetic disagreement. It was the hangover talking. She’d be drunk again next weekend.

It was strange not to be hungover with her. But barely drinking anything had been far from the strangest thing to happen at the party last night. Seeing Manson in attendance, a year and several months after he’d been expelled, hadn’t been the strangest part. Even seeing Jason, Lucas, and Vincent again hadn’t been as strange as what came after.

What I’d done — what I’d finally let myself do — was so bizarre I didn’t dare bring it up.

Maybe I’d screwed up, and last night had been a massive mistake. People would find out. They’d never look at me the same. Videos of me playing that Drink or Dare game with Manson were going to be plastered across social media. But what had come after the game, what had happened in the dark, was what truly scared me.

I’d lost myself in the lust that had been building ever since those men first came into my life.

I didn’t feel like the same person I’d been yesterday. I felt fake, like I’d been dropped into a mannequin’s body and had forgotten what pose I was supposed to hold.

I didn’t know what the hell I wanted anymore.

Except the big plate of biscuits and gravy in front of me. I wanted that in my stomach immediately.

“Girl, what even happened last night?” Ashley gazed at me with a little frown. “You took that weird dare from Manson and disappeared. Did you, uh…” She popped her lips with a little smile. Not even a hangover was going to stop her from getting the whole story. “Did you finally hook up?”

“Finally?” My voice squeaked. “What do you mean, finally?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. I get it, okay? He’s weird and dangerous. It’s the whole bad boy thing, right? That’s kind of fun.” She pierced a piece of pancake with her fork, rubbing it through the syrup across her plate. “By the way, I ran into Jennifer at the party. She said that Vincent and Jason, and uh…” She snapped her fingers as she tried to remember.

“Lucas,” I said softly, and she clapped her hands.

“Yes! Lucas Bent. She said she saw them all last night. Dressed like clowns, the fucking weirdos. I didn’t see them. I can’t believe they were invited.” Her piece of pancake was completely drenched at this point. I stuffed my mouth with biscuit and country gravy in a last-ditch effort to buy myself time. “But she mentioned she saw you with them.”