Flint will be here soon, and my mind is racing with all the possibilities that could come from this. Of course, I can't deny the chemistry between us, but the thought of something happening makes my heart jump.

I'm good at pretending to be confident in myself. I've been afraid of what people thought my whole life. I've been able to cover it up under a disguise. This is different because I can be me. How will others perceive that version of me? The doorbell rings, pulling me from my thoughts. I put on my brave face and head downstairs. I can't be afraid forever.

There's laughter and chatter coming from the kitchen as I make my way through the house. I stop in the entryway to the kitchen and take in the scene before me. Dad and Flint are sitting at the kitchen table chatting, completely unaware that I'm in the room.

I clear my throat. "Are you two enjoying your bro-mance?"

The room falls silent as their eyes follow my voice. Flint does a double-take, and dad stares wide-eyed at me. They are acting like I've never worn a dress before. All I did was throw on a simple black and red corset style dress that pulls up in the front and is longer in the back.

"Uh. Hi."

They both stand and cross the room towards me.

"I'll let you two get to your party." He pauses and turns to Flint. "Keep her safe."

"Always," he says.

The flutters in my stomach return. Always. I don't feel like I deserve his friendship.

He passes by me and kisses the top of my head. "Please act responsible," he warns.

"I promise."

Flint and dad say goodbye and do a weird "bro" handshake. I smirk and roll my eyes. Once dad leaves the room, Flint takes the opportunity to check me out. My cheeks flush under his stare.

"You look really good, Marnie," he says.

"Is it too much?" I stare down at my dress. "I usually overdress for these house parties. It's a habit."

"You didn't have to get so dressed up, but I like it."

"I'm used to parties in the Heights."

"You look fine. Let's get going."

Flint places his hand on my lower back and leads me out. The slight touch of his hand on me gets me all worked up again. Get it together, Marnie. You're just friends. Friends who kiss, who share intimate glances, and secret texts. I release a trembling breath, which only causes Flint to pull me closer into him.

***

We head back towards the mainland, music quietly playing in the background as we drive. I'm humming along to one of my favorites, and he drums his hands on the wheel. We haven't said much since we left the house, but I'm okay with that because singing is more fun.

I'm halfway through the chorus of a Charlotte Rising song when the realization hits me. I stop singing and glance over at Flint.

"These are our songs?" A knot forms in my throat. "You made a playlist with our songs from our lyric game."

He glances over but then turns his attention back on the road. His cheeks turn a light shade of pink as his lips curl into a smile. "I might have."

I playfully shove him.

"What?" He laughs.

I smile because I can't help it. I've secretly always wanted a boy to make a playlist for me. It's like something only seen in the movies. Is this really happening right now? Leave it to Flint Rogers to be the one to make one with me in mind.

I'm so engaged in the songs that he made a CD with our music on it that I hadn't even noticed we arrived. Flint slows down as he reaches a small, run-down yellow house. Things are different here, and since driving up, I realized this town doesn't look very friendly.

People spill out into the small yard in front of a bright yellow house. Red solo cups are in most of their hands. Some litter on the browning grass at their feet. A loud thumping bass coming from inside vibrates the entire area. We are practically in the middle of nowhere, and the closest neighbor I saw was up the road.

He glances over at me and rests his hand over my clenched fist. I jump. "You, okay?"

The image in my head of this party was slightly different. It's not a controlled environment like a concert, nor is it anything like the parties in the Heights.

"Perfect, let's get drunk." I pull my hand away a little faster than I intended to.

"I thought your dad said you had to behave?" The seriousness in his tone takes me by surprise.

I don't respond. Instead, I hop out of the car. He meets me in the front, and we walk up together. Eyes start turning in my direction. They know I'm a newbie here. I'm glad it's a few towns over. Aside from his bandmates, I doubt anyone here will know me. My shoulders tense, and a group of girls all turn their lips up as if I disgust them. I take a step closer to Flint, and our arms brush up against each other. Without hesitation, his fingertips slowly rub along the back of my hand in gentle circles.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" His lips linger right over my ear. I don't want to think about what would happen if he moved any closer.

I'm about to open my mouth when my eyes land on one of Flint's band members. His green mohawk stands tall amongst the crowd. He glares at me. Margot, the girl I've seen hanging out with Flint at school, wanders over to him and wraps her hands around his neck. He whispers something, and they both stare in my direction. I don't like the smug look on her face.

"Your friends don't seem to be happy that I'm here." I nod in their direction.

"Ryder's a bit rough around the edges, Margot tolerates no one, but they'll grow on...."

I shoot him a look, and he doesn't continue his sentence. This was a bad idea. I'm starting to feel uncomfortable. Tonight, the roles are reversed, and I'm the one under a microscope. My anxiety creeps in. If I'm going to survive this party, I'll need a drink stat.

"Do you want anything?" Flint asks like he's reading my mind.

"I'll take whatever."

The minute Flint walks away, Margot stalks over, a sly smile on her face. She's going to tell everyone she saw me here tonight. Of course, my reputation is already heading down the toilet, so at this point, it probably won't even matter.

"Surprised to see you here, Bennett," she says, circling me like a predator does its prey.

She raises a brow at my outfit choice like she's amused that I'm wearing something more like her instead of what she's used to. The only way to get through tonight is to act as if I'm the stuck-up person they all think I am.

"Isn't your precious rep on the line?" she sneers.

"Margot!" Flint interrupts. He says it in a tone like a parent would to a misbehaving child.

He hands me a silver can of beer. I open it and take a giant swig. They look at me like they've never seen someone chug a beer before. Again, dad's words echo in my head, behave yourself.

Margot whispers something to him and then disappears into the crowd, thankfully. I take another swing, and Flint grasps my arm gently.

"Slow down there. I promised your dad I'd bring you home in one piece."

Anxiety sucks, and so I down the rest of it and hand him the can. Flint sighs. A dense smoke fills the room around us. Flint steps away to throw my beer can away, leaving me alone again. I explore a bit on my own. It's a different atmosphere than the usual party I'm used to. As I walk by the kitchen, I catch a glimpse of Flint talking to his friend.

"I can't believe you brought her here. She's not your type, bro," he yells over the music.

"Who cares what type she is? She doesn't want to date me anyway. I'm just being a good friend and giving her a good time tonight. She needs it."

Ryder laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Friend? C'mon. I can tell you want more than that from her. But, dude, she's a whole other breed."

Flint is not amused by his friend's comments. Ryder laughs a deep chuckle.

"So anyway, man, there's beer pong...."

I don't allow him to finish his sentence. It's time to show these people that I'm not going to take their shit. "Did I hear someone say beer pong?"

Flint glares at me like he's about to grab my hand and take me out of here, so I don't embarrass myself. Maybe he should.

"The rich girl thinks she can play beer pong?"

If I could, I would wring this guy's neck, but I keep my cool because, let's face it, he's a lot bigger than I am.

"I'm pretty sure I rank at expert level. I do go to parties, you know. We rich kids know how to throw parties."

"Oh, with caviar and fancy dresses?"

"Ry," Flint warns.

"What?" he asks with an innocent look.

I hate looking at him and his stupid puke green mohawk.

"Yeah, fancy dresses, bitch drinks, cocktails. You should remember my birthday...."

"Right."

"So, you think you can play pong, huh?" he asks, eyeing me like I'm competition.

"I don't think I can. I know I can."

He laughs again. Flint is looking at me, not sure what to think.

"Alright, rich girl, show me what you got."

Ryder walks away, and I start to follow. Flint grabs hold of my arm. He doesn't look too happy, but this guy is now under my skin, and I can't help but want to show him that he knows nothing about me.

"You don't have to do this...."

I scan his face. His lips are pulled into a straight line. He's not amused at all. He's truly worried about me. I appreciate it, but I need to show them that I'm not who they think I am.

"Flint, I can handle myself."

Without another word, we head downstairs to a dark, crowded basement filled with people. Smoke from God knows what surrounds us, and I try to hold in a cough. In the back corner of the room, a group is finishing up their turn at beer pong. I stand waiting in the center of the room, with Flint and Ryder watching them.

"Teams," Ryder asks?

"Afraid I'll kick your ass solo," I ask?

He laughs. "No, not at all. I just thought you could use the help."

My eyes wander around the room while we wait for the others to finish. Margot struts down the stairs with a cigarette dangling from her mouth. She touches the low part of the ceiling near the stairs and scans the area. The moment she spots me, she smirks. Ryder finds her as well, and she rushes to him. He lifts her, twirling her around, as the cigarette still hangs loose in her mouth.

"You are my partner for beer pong. Us versus the Mayor's daughter," he says.

"With pleasure," she purrs in his ear.

"Are you sure you're any good?" Flint's lips hover over my ear, and his hands rest on my hips.

"Doubting me?"

I tilt my head back, our lips just inches apart. My eyes don't meet his. Instead, they stay focused on his lips. My thoughts rewind to the night of my party and how good it felt to kiss him. My heart picks up the pace like it's on a high-speed chase. I almost reach up to touch my lips to his, but I hold back.

"No... maybe..." he says.

I can see that he's also distracted by my lips. His eyes are looking down rather than over at me. I let out an awkward laugh and straighten myself, and I swear they brush against each other as I do. I try to ignore the flutters in my belly and grab his hand to lead him over to the table. Ryder is already starting to set up just as the other group walks away.

"Why doesn't our celebrity guest go first," Margot says with an attitude.

I give her a fake laugh and the finger. Her eyes grow wide at my response, and it seems as if she might reach across the table and strangle me.

"Guys, seriously," Flint says, stepping in.

Margot and Ryder go first. She gets the ball in my cup, and I drink. Flint gets one in on their side, so Ryder drinks. It goes back and forth for a while. I notice Flint spitting his drink back into the cup and placing it under the table halfway through. Has he been doing this the whole time?

As the ending draws near, I'm a bit tipsier than I thought. If I sink this, we have the game. I slant to the side, bumping into Flint. He grabs hold of my hips to hold me in place. He hasn't smiled the entire game.

He leans down and whispers, "You've got this, Marnie. You sink that, and we win."

"My jam is playing. I've got this."

Over the pounding speakers, one of my favorite old rock songs plays. Flint finally laughs and sings quietly in my ear. His voice is distracting, but I have to sink this, or I'll lose. I step away out of his grip and throw the last ball, and it easily sinks into the cup.

I turn to Flint, and he lifts me off the ground, spinning me. So maybe he's not as mad as I thought.

"Ha!" I yell over at them. "Told you I was undefeated."

Ryder smiles at me while Margot continues to throw me the stink eye.

"Good game," he says.

I turn my attention back to Flint as he sets me back down on the ground. He doesn't let go right away. My body tingles, and my stomach flutters. When I glance up at him, the intensity of his stare catches me off guard. He's watching me the same way Pete always does with Tanya. I'm probably just imagining it because I am buzzed to the point where drunk is probably the better word to use.

"How about some shots," Ryder asks?

"I think that's enough, Ry," he growls. "We're going to get some air anyway."

Without another word, Flint puts an arm around my lower back and leads me out of the smoky basement and back upstairs. He takes me out to the back of the house, where there's a screened-in porch. The winter air is crisp, but you can almost feel the slight warmth of spring. Temperatures are milder than they have been. Either that or I'm so drunk my body is overheating. Flint puts me down, and the room spins.

He sighs. "I promised your dad I'd have you home in one piece, and this is not what he had in mind.

I laugh because I'm in that giddy stage of drunk. I hate myself for it. He has me sit on a small loveseat.

"Can I have your phone?"

I giggle.

"What's so funny," he asks?

"My phone..." I think for a second. I pull at the fabric at the neckline of my dress and peer down inside. Sitting inside my bra tucked in deep is my phone. I laugh.

"Where is it?" he asks.

I giggle again; he's half-amused, half-not. "Take a wild guess."

He sighs. "I'm not fishing in your bra for it. Give it to me, please?" he asks.

"You're so demanding when I'm drunk," I say, pointing my finger.

"Marnie, please." He purses his lips like he's holding back his anger.

"Nope," I tease.

"Seriously?"

I nod. "Seriously."

"I won't take advantage of you when you're wasted. I care about you more than that."

"You're funner when I'm sober. You didn't drink," I pout.

"Someone has to be responsible." His lips stretch into a thin line. I'm afraid I've made him angry, but instead, he laughs, shaking his head. "Funner is not a word, Marnie."

I hand him the phone and watch him go through the contact list. As he puts it to his ear, I carefully rest my head on his shoulder. I swear he stops breathing for a moment when our bodies touch. Before I can think about it further, he's talking to someone. Even in my drunk state, I know exactly who it is. Dom.

He hangs up and hands me the phone. I place it back in its hiding spot and attempt to look up at him. He's got two heads, and they keep wobbling all over.

"I should get you home before your dad returns and sees what a mess you are. Dom is home waiting for us."

I sigh, allowing my full-on drunkenness to take over. "Do you still love me?"

I slap my hand over my mouth. There's no smile or smirk on his face. He narrows his eyes. Without so much as another word, he lifts me off the loveseat and into his arms. Ignoring what I've asked. He trudges forward through the screen door and around the side of the property towards the front.

The way he's holding me makes me want to stay curled up in his arms forever. I'll blame the beer for that thought. As we reach the front of the house, a wave of nausea hits me hard.

"Flint, pull over," I say.

"What?"

Instead of answering, I roll my head to the side and exorcist vomit all over the grass. He sets me down as I begin to puke all over the front lawn. I know what the party guests are all thinking. Look at that rich girl who can't hold her liquor. This is way more than I've ever drunk before, and I'm ashamed of how I'm behaving right now.

Once I've emptied the contents of my stomach, I stand up straight.

"Are you okay now," he asks?

I nod. My eyes meet his, and he lowers them, not wanting to look at me. It's easy to tell that he regrets inviting me here tonight. A knot in my throat tells me I've reached the emotional drunk stage, and I'm less than ready for the tears that start rolling down my cheeks.

"She hates me," I cry, forgetting about everything except the reason I started drinking tonight in the first place. The letter from mom pops into my head. If it weren't for me finding it, I would have never caught myself in this awful predicament. I'm so angry at her. I was before, but now it's ten times worse. I hate that she has another family and that she didn't love us enough to stay. Why were we not good enough for her?

"What are you talking about?"

"She really didn't want me. I ..."

I start babbling about my mother as the smell of my own puke hits my nose. Then, I feel it come up again, and there I am, vomiting in the same spot. Flint runs his fingers through my unruly hair and holds me close to him even while I'm puking. Finally, I finish and pull myself together as best I can.

"Who," he asks?

"My mom, she wrote this awful letter to my father about how she wants the press to stay away from her family. She has kids that aren't us." I glance up at the beautiful twinkling sky and wish I could appreciate it tonight, but I'm too overwhelmed with sadness to feel anything.

"She's not worth it, Marnie. You have an amazing family already. You don't need her."

I sigh and lean back, using him for support. His eyes meet mine, and I know he's trying to figure out what to do next. He probably wants to just leave me here on the lawn.

"Why?" I speak before thinking again.

"Why what?" he asks.

"Do you like me?"

He blinks several times. "Can we not?" He pleads.

"I want to know...."

Staring off behind me, he says, "You're drunk. You won't even remember."

"But I will." I tug on his shirt.

"Let's go."

He tries to make me move, but I don't budge. I hold up my hand and place it against his chest.

"No, tell me." I push.

A dazed expression crosses his eyes. "Because, Marnie, I've never met a girl like you. Sure, I know a lot, and they are into music like me, but you're different. I love how we connect through music. You probably won't remember me telling you this, but I've liked you for a while. I always thought there was something more about you, but you were with Cam, so who was I to get in the middle of that?" He pauses for a brief second to catch his breath and to hide his quivering lip. "I fell for the real you, not the fake person you pretend to be at school."

He's silent for a moment or two. "Are you happy now?" His voice has an edge to it that makes me cringe.

"Flint..." I start to say as the world goes black.

***

My eyes fly open as a buzzing noise in my ear drives me nuts. I have to blink several times to figure out where I am. I'm in my room. Next to me sits a bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water. My phone is buzzing, and I notice it beside my pillow. I groan when I see the time on the phone.

Lyrics to Good Charlotte's song "Last Night" appear on my screen. I smirk and finish the lyrics. He should know that there is no way he can trick me with a Good Charlotte song.

Flint: Wow, I'm impressed you could do that hangover. How are you?

Me: Ugh, dying.

I have a headache from hell, and the light coming through the curtains is making it so much worse. But then, a random thought hits me, and I glance down and am somewhat thankful I'm still wearing yesterday's clothing.

Me: How did I get in my bed?

Flint: It wasn't easy. I stayed until about six in the morning. I slept in your spare room, and Dom let me borrow some clothes. I checked on you before I left, but you were passed out cold.

Thoughts of dad seeing the guys dragging my ass up the stairs plays in my mind.

Me: And my dad?

I wait impatiently, my heart racing as the tiny dots blink on the screen.

Flint: He pulled up the same time I did. Sorry.

Me: Ugh. I'm in a load of trouble. Really, I think I am dying. I can't move.

Flint: LOL. Don't forget to take the Tylenol. I'm at work, so I'll talk to you later.

I hate how with texts you can never tell what a person is really thinking. I hope he's not too pissed, because although I was drunk. I remember the last thing I asked him. The memory leaves my cheeks warm. I want us to be okay because I like him more than I thought.