I left to pick Melanie up at a quarter to nine, figuring that would give us plenty of time to join the pre-game in Parker's room before the buses started to leave. Getting to Melanie's apartment and back in my car should've taken no more than ten minutes, but what I hadn't realized was that several streets around the university had been closed to accommodate a film shoot.

Bumper to bumper traffic left me so frazzled that when I finally arrived at Melanie's door, I asked her if she wouldn't mind walking the half mile back to Greek Row. She was surprised at first, then completely on board after I explained the situation on the roads. I had a feeling that her easygoing response had something to do with the fact that the ordeal had left me struggling to form complete sentences; she felt sorry for me, I could see it in her eyes.

"Let me just grab a pair of flats to walk over in," Melanie said, before hurrying back inside her apartment to get a change of shoes.

Sitting on my hands to stop them from shaking, I waited for her on the same staircase that we'd sat on together the month before. It was definitely colder now than it had been back then, but if I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could still hear Melanie's voice in my ear while she told me what to say to win over my moody ex. Unfortunately, I could hear my responses, too, each one more regrettable than the last...

"You ready?" Melanie asked from behind me, and I scrambled to my feet, wincing at the memory.

The stress of driving through L.A. traffic must have taken a greater toll on me than I'd first realized because I hadn't noticed how good Melanie looked until that moment. Her hair fell in loose ringlets around her face, and her makeup looked different from how she normally wore it. It was sparklier, maybe brighter somehow. I couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, though I sensed it had something to do with the blend of colors on her eyelids. I swallowed, turning my attention to her outfit.

She wore a pristine letterman's jacket over a simple black dress, and I wondered if the jacket was a remnant from her years of running cross-country; it certainly looked like it had been made for her. In her left hand, she carried a pair of bright yellow heels that reminded me of a canary, or that giant bird from Sesame Street.

"Yeah," I said, letting my gaze linger on her legs for a little too long before looking at her face again. "Want me to carry those?"

I motioned at her heels, but Melanie shook her head. "That's alright."

We walked down the stairs in silence, and neither of us spoke as I instinctively pushed the Lock button on my car keys for the second time--just to make sure. The tail lights of my Mustang lit up, and although Melanie's mouth was curved in its usual half-smile, I noted with some disappointment that she didn't comment on the car's freshly waxed body. I'd taken it to the auto shop earlier in the week after noticing that sap from the tree I usually parked under had dripped onto its hood. Eighty bucks and a new car cover later, it looked good as new, despite the fact that it was getting up in years.

In a rare display of affection, my parents had given my car to me on my sixteenth birthday. It came with rules attached to it, of course: no racing, be home by midnight, keep it clean, keep your grades up, no drinking, no drugs, and so on. I'd followed all of those rules without complaint--well, other than having it back in the garage on time--because my car had been my first true love. I'd driven around in it like I was the greatest thing since sliced bread, playing my CDs from Roscoe's Records at deafening volumes, and enjoying the way my ears tingled when I stepped outside to curious stares in the school parking lot. Parker had always rolled his eyes at my displays of ostentatiousness and I'd outgrown them over time; I hated when strangers looked at me now.

Still, after seven years of receiving compliments on Old Blue from men and women alike, I should've known that Melanie would be the first girl to remain unmoved by its deep cerulean frame. Truth be told, I was almost offended on my car's behalf, though I resisted the urge to fish for flattery.

As we continued down the street towards my house, Melanie was the first to speak up. "Are you feeling better?" she asked, and I shrugged, acutely aware that she was referring to how freaked out I'd been after escaping the earlier traffic jam.

"Fine," I mumbled.

Twirling a lock of hair around her finger, Melanie said matter-of-factly, "You know, I got rear-ended three days after I got my license."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Yup, on the 405."

"What happened?"

"Oh, nothing exciting. I was running late to first period and I missed my exit. My homeroom teacher was--she wasn't very nice to people who came in after the bell, so I panicked and tried to change lanes. Of course, at eight-thirty on the 405, there was a ton of traffic, and I guess I forgot to check my blind spot because I ended up cutting off a ninety-year-old man in a Cadillac."

She let out a short laugh and continued, "My car was fine--my brother fixed it for me--but I refused to drive to school for months. Everyone made fun of me for taking the bus when I had my license, but whenever I looked at my car, all I could think about was that accident." She tilted her head to study me. "I still get a little nervous whenever I pass that junction on my way home."

Something in my chest swelled and I felt an overpowering urge to pull her into my arms and hug her. I knew that she'd only shared that story in order to make me feel better about my own overreaction, and I didn't know how to tell her how much I appreciated it. She was always doing little things like that, little things to make me feel alright about myself.

When we reached the house, stepping into the foyer felt like taking center stage at a circus. Voices echoed around us at competing volumes and heat seemed to roll off the bodies crowding around the entranceway. Perspiration began to gather on my forehead, though Melanie seemed unaffected by the warmth. I caught myself staring at her face again, mesmerized by the way her cheeks shimmered. I didn't really understand how makeup worked, to be honest, but maybe that was part of its magic.

Too caught up in my thoughts to notice what was going on, I flinched when Melanie suddenly stepped in front of me. I blinked, then looked up to see Phil grinning wildly from halfway up the main staircase. In her hands, Melanie held a football that Phil had apparently thrown in my direction, and he motioned for her to toss it back to him. Before either of us could react, Parker appeared with Sophie in tow, and he held out his hand for Melanie to give the ball to him. She did, and in one swift motion, Parker lobbed it forcefully at Phil's head, its trajectory taking a crooked, yet powerful arc. The other boy's smile vanished, and Sophie rolled her eyes while Phil ducked in an effort to avoid getting hit.

"He's such an ass," Parker muttered under his breath before slapping me on the shoulder and then bending down to give Melanie a hug. When he let go, Sophie's arms replaced his around the redhead's small frame. As Sophie pulled back, she pointed at Melanie's heels. I hadn't even realized that she'd changed out of her flats and looked around to see where she'd hidden them. It took a minute, but eventually I spotted them resting beneath a chair next to the main staircase.

"Those are so cute," Sophie said, nudging Parker to get him to agree. Like a well-trained lap dog, he nodded without looking.

"Cute," he parroted, and both Sophie and Melanie smiled.

Turning to me, Sophie gave me a quick hug, too. "We were worried that you guys weren't going to make it. What took you so long to get here?"

I hesitated, and Melanie replied, "It's my fault, I forgot to tell Scott that Jefferson and Flower are both closed until midnight."

Parker's head swiveled to look at her. "They are?" he asked, and when Melanie nodded, he groaned. "Shit, I need to tell the bus drivers."

And, just like that, he was off to clean up yet another mess while the three of us stayed behind. Once he'd disappeared into the crowd, Sophie reached into her purse and pulled out a flask. She handed it to Melanie first, who eyed the metal container for a moment before unscrewing the cap.

"It's Parker's," Sophie explained. "Feel free to finish what's in it, I don't really want to carry it around all night."

Melanie took a small sip of the flask's contents and then made a face. "That's disgusting."

"I know," Sophie said, wrinkling her nose.

"What is it?" I asked as Melanie passed me the mystery liquid.

"Gin," Sophie replied, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Gin and what?"

"More gin?" Sophie patted Melanie on the back while the latter's eyes began to water. "No, actually, I think there's orange juice in there, too, but you can't taste it. Parker didn't have enough vodka to make a regular screwdriver, so he improvised."

I tilted my head back to take a swig and immediately added that decision to one of my poorer life choices. "Dear God," I said, sputtering, "that's pure gasoline."

Sophie nodded. "Right?"

I moved the flask in a circle and listened to the alcohol slosh around. "I don't know if I want this," I admitted, and Melanie shook her head to indicate that she felt the same way.

"Great. I told him not to waste so much of my gin," Sophie grumbled. "Can you hide that, then? I love him, but I'm really not in the mood to babysit Parker tonight."

"I'll go pour it out," I said, then paused. "If you guys want something else to drink, I have stuff in my room... The only thing is that it's kind of messy in there at the moment."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sophie replied, surprising me. "Parker sent me to get the orange juice from your mini fridge."

"Seriously?"

She shrugged. "You should really lock your door."

"Clearly." I scratched the back of my neck. "Well, if you want to make yourself a rum and coke for the drive, there's a bottle under my bed, and I guess Sophie already knows where my mixers are."

The two girls grinned and I watched them disappear before returning my attention to the flask in my hand. I sniffed at the liquid, deciding that the liquor itself was probably reasonably decent if Sophie had complained about throwing it out. I knew that I should flush the drink, but I felt sufficiently on edge that the idea of getting drunk quickly didn't seem totally unappealing--even if it meant killing off a few of my tastebuds. 

Guessing that the flask probably contained around three or four shots worth of booze, I took a deep breath and then filled my mouth with the pale orange liquid, hoping that it wouldn't come back up when I swallowed. I felt my insides wither in protest and made a mental note not to drink again until Thanksgiving.

Despite my liver's complaints, however, I continued to force the mixture down until I noticed Phil walking up to me. "What?" I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. He looked at me with a predatory gleam in his eye.

"You didn't bring Gemma?" he asked, looking around the hall in a half-hearted effort to pretend like he was searching for her.

"No, I didn't," I said. "You flying solo?"

Phil grunted. "Yeah, the girl I was gonna bring had something going on."

"Bummer," I replied.

"How do you always manage to pull the best looking women?"

"Dunno." I drained the last of the flask's contents and knew that I'd be pretty tipsy once the gin hit my system. "Maybe they like me because I'm not an asshole."

I could see the gears in Phil's brain working overtime while he tried to figure out why he'd been insulted by my comment. When he finally got it, he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, like you're some sort of saint."

He licked his bottom lip, and his gaze drifted to the stairs. Melanie and Sophie stood on the third step from the landing, posing with their drinks while a pledge took a picture of them on Sophie's phone. "So, are you guys, uh..."

"Quit creeping on my date."

"I'm not, I'm just curious."

"We're friends," I said, and then regretted my choice of words when I saw the way that Phil's eyes clouded with lust.

"Good to know," he murmured before wandering away, and I clenched my jaw so tightly that I thought my teeth might shatter.

I stayed by Melanie's side after that, annoyed by how much Phil's comment had bothered me. I knew that I had no right to be jealous, but that didn't stop me from wanting to rip his head off every time he looked at her--and he looked at her a lot.

On the bright side, as expected, Parker's concoction had calmed my nerves enough that I could sling an arm around Melanie's shoulders without worrying about looking like an idiot. I stood closer to her than I usually did while we spoke, trying to decipher her reactions. The fact that she always smiled made it hard for me to tell how she felt about my shameless attempts to flirt, but after I'd convinced myself that she was pleased with the attention, I slipped my fingers through hers, just like I'd wanted to on our walk to dinner. Her hands were smaller than I'd expected, and warmer, too. I told her as much and my cheeks burned when she laughed.

Once we were seated on the last bus to the event, I heard my voice grow louder while I joined the others in chanting one of our fraternity's rowdier drinking songs. Melanie seemed amused as the guys pounded their fists against the bus' roof, but Sophie looked absolutely bewildered. The actress scowled at Parker as he ruffled her hair while he marched up and down the aisle, reminding everyone that they needed to bring an I.D.

Eventually the chants died down, and after the driver took a final headcount, the bus' engine came to life. Pop songs blared over the radio, accompanied by the desperate attempts of thirty drunk college students trying to sing along. From the corner of my eye, I could see that Melanie was studying me expectantly, so I tightened my hold on her hand.

"What's up?" I asked, and the dimple on her right cheek bloomed while she tried not to laugh.

"How did you get so drunk?"

"I'm not," I protested, despite the fact that I felt like the world was spinning. The driver's handling of the bus wasn't helping either, and I crossed my fingers each time he pulled into a turn, hoping that we wouldn't flip--and also that I wouldn't vomit.

Melanie snorted softly, though she didn't bother arguing with me. Instead, she let go of my hand so that she could turn around to talk to Corey and his date, a cute freshman named Lauren. As I listened to their conversation, I marveled over Melanie's ability to draw people in, like moths flocking to a flame. There was something in the way she spoke, and more importantly, there was something in the way she listened that honestly made you feel like you were the center of the universe.

Fortunately for my upset stomach, the place that Mattie had rented out for the evening wasn't far from the school. It only took us ten minutes to reach the downtown venue, but even in that short amount of time, I could tell that Corey and Lauren had fallen completely under Melanie's spell. In a way, it was nice to know that Phil wasn't the only other person besides me who couldn't resist her quiet charm.

Melanie hugged herself while we made our way through the line to get inside the bar, flashing our I.D.s at two bouncers when we reached the door. As we stepped inside the venue, Carlos waved us over and promptly passed Melanie and I two shots of vodka from a tray of drinks that he'd ordered. His eyes were glassier than marbles and I wondered if he'd even be able to remember his generosity in the morning. I doubted it, and if I were a better person, I probably would've told him that it was time for him to close out his tab--but I didn't. More than happy to keep my buzz going on someone else's dime, I downed my free shot before noticing that Melanie looked hesitant.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She smiled sheepishly while I set my empty shot glass back down on the tray. "Would you mind getting me a chaser?"

"Sure, what do you want?"

"Whatever."

I nodded before noticing that Phil was lurking at the table next to ours. Determined to ignore him, I wrapped an arm around Melanie's shoulders and drew her close. "Actually, come with me," I said, having to shout over the sound system's heavy bass line when the DJ turned up the volume and my friends began to cheer.

As I led her to the bar, I turned to glare at Phil, though he had already disappeared into the mass of bodies making their way to go dance. He really could be an alright guy when he wanted to be, which was why I tried my best to give him the benefit of the doubt most of the time. The problem was that when he wanted something, he didn't care who he had to step on in order to get it--and that was especially true when it came to girls.

The line to the bar was unusually short, and when it was our turn to order, I handed the bartender a twenty and let my hand slip down to Melanie's waist while she leaned across the counter to ask for a glass of cranberry juice. She jumped slightly when I squeezed the space above her hip, though she didn't pull away from my touch either. The bartender wordlessly raised his eyebrows when he turned to look at me. "Whatever you have on draft's fine," I said, and the heavily tattooed man busied himself with preparing our drinks.

When he handed me my beer, I told him to keep the change and watched while Melanie poured her shot into the crimson juice that she'd been served. She drew her straw around the surface in a swirling motion before bringing it to her mouth and sipping gently. "Sorry, I know I'm being kind of lame but I have class tomorrow morning," she explained, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, so do I." I paused. "But it's not lame that you're taking it easy. It's smart."

She shook her head. "I really don't know how you can drink as much as you have tonight and still function when you wake up."

Looking down at my glass, I lowered it, feeling a little guilty. "Years of conditioning, I guess."

"Remind me," Melanie said, her voice cautiously teasing, "how are you doing in kinesiology?"

"Nothing lower than a B-minus on my tests since October," I replied, and I could've done a backflip when I saw her face light up with pride.

Clearing my throat, I glanced around until I spotted an unoccupied booth on the far side of the venue. From where we stood, it looked like a few people had discarded their jackets and purses on one of the booth's benches but I figured there'd be space for us to sit down on the other side. I found myself wanting to talk to her--to hear more stories about her life before we'd met--so I reached for Melanie's hand and she gave it to me, once again allowing me to guide her until we got to where I wanted to go.

When we reached the table, I let her scoot into the booth first before clumsily following suit. Still holding her hand, I traced my thumb over her knuckles in tiny circles. "Thanks again for coming tonight," I said.

"Of course."

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, willing a witty comment to roll off my tongue. I tried to channel Parker's innate ability to sling rapid fire comebacks and easy one-liners, but of course, nothing even remotely amusing came to mind. After sitting in silence for what felt like hours, Melanie leaned against my shoulder, the pressure of her body sending ripples of electricity through my chest.

"So," she began, "tell me the truth: did you and Gemma have a fight? Is that why you didn't bring her?"

I shook my head. "I don't really want to talk about her, Mel."

"But--"

Frustrated, I ran my free hand through my hair. I understood what she was getting at, and I didn't blame her for wanting to know, but I had no idea how to make her believe that I'd asked her to be my date because I wanted to--not because of anything Gemma had done. Not really, anyway; the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I'd only asked Gemma out of a sense of obligation.

Despite the hissy fit that I'd thrown, I hadn't wanted Gemma to say yes, in part because I knew what would happen if she did. We'd never been able to make it through an entire fraternity event without getting into a fight; it was just the way we were. It wasn't always her fault, but it wasn't always my fault either. We were just...

Incompatible, said the cruel voice that lived inside my brain, and for once I didn't try to deny it.

I pulled away from Melanie so that I could look her in the eyes while I spoke. "I asked you because I wanted you to be my date, okay? I wouldn't have come to this if you'd said no."

Melanie looked both happy and embarrassed as she bit her lip and nodded. "Okay."

Feeling like I belonged on one of my grandma's cheesy soap operas, I tried to switch the subject before she realized how corny my confession had sounded. "So, what's your deal?"

Melanie's eyebrows furrowed. "My deal?"

"Yeah, you know," I said, letting go of her hand so that I could wave both my arms in a circle. "Why'd you pick L.A.U.? How'd you decide to study P.T.? What's your favorite color? Why..."

Why do you like me?

I didn't ask the last question, instead firmly closing my mouth while she considered what I'd asked.
"This seems kind of deep for a frat party," she joked after a while. I didn't say anything, hoping my silence would force her to answer. As if sensing my tactic, Melanie sighed. "I didn't want to leave California so L.A.U. was my top choice. I picked P.T. because I'm good at science but I didn't want to be in a lab--and also because I wanted to be able to help Kevin in case he ever... In case he ever came back hurt."

We both looked down at the tabletop, and for a second I felt awful. I should've seen that one coming. I started to apologize, but Melanie cut me off, her voice already back to its usual lighthearted tone. "I don't have a favorite color, but if I had to pick, I'd probably say seafoam green."

"Are you serious?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"That's just insanely specific, that's all."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," I replied honestly. "I probably would've been disappointed if you'd said anything else."

-----------
A/N: Hello, lovely readers! This story broke the top #100 (76!) on the What's Hot list for general fiction over the weekend and it's all thanks to your support. :) Please vote and comment if you enjoyed the update (and feel free to tell me if you didn't, haha). I feel like this chapter and the next one should really be read close together, so I'll try to update again in the morning. Thanks again!!