“Is this the famous peer pressure I’ve heard so much about?” she said. She leaned back, breaking out of my orbit. Damn. “Are you the cool girl who’s going to shove me in a locker because I don’t drink?” She laughed to herself and hopped off the stool. My eyes followed her to the door, taking in the beachy waves in her hair, her bare shoulders, and tight jeans hugging curves that made me bite my lip, hard.

What a dick.

A quarter of my bottle of vodka and several dull conversations about exams later, I escaped upstairs. Technically there was a baby gate with a makeshift sign warning not to go up, but there was a really long queue for the toilet, so I used my initiative. After I left the ornate bathroom, I stood on the landing, drawn to the faint sound of a piano coming from one of the rooms.

Oliver was in the music room, no surprise there. I’d found him here before. He threw these parties and then he’d invariably get bored and leave. He looked tired as he tinkled on the piano, and a half-empty drink sat on the lid, sweating into a coaster. He had a real glass, though there wasn’t a single one to be found downstairs.

“So when are Mommy and Daddy getting back this time, sad little rich boy?” I said, sitting beside him on the piano bench. He barely looked at me, but I caught a hint of a smile.

“Tomorrow.” He tucked a lock of ashy blond hair behind his ear.

“I think they’re going to notice downstairs is kind of a bomb site,” I said.

“I have a cleaner coming in the morning.”

“Must be nice to have so much money you forget how to clean up after yourself,” I sighed wistfully.

“Saoirse, it’s nice to be rich enough that I’m not annoyed you stole a bottle of CÎROC Ten from me.” He tapped the Coke bottle in my hand, which created an odd gap in the music. How he knew I’d filled it with his expensive vodka, I don’t know. Let’s call it an educated guess.

“Dude . . . this is vodka? It goes down like water.”

“I bet.”

“Besides,” I said, stretching my arms overhead, “you owe me.”

“Still?” His fingers fluttered over the keys impressively. Not that I’d ever tell him it was impressive, of course.

“Forever. You stole Gracie Belle Corban from me and I never really got over it. My cold, shriveled heart still mourns for her.”

“I’m sure. I hear there are plenty of girls since to take your mind off her.”