I stand there silent for a few moments. My brain attempts to catch, processing what had just occurred. The Mike guy scrambles to pull himself off the ground. Glancing around, he refuses to look at either of us. Instead, keeping his eyes low, focusing on the ground before stumbling off toward the house.

"What the fuck Hayden! You do know I'm not some random piece of property that you own, right?  And I don't need you trying to save me. I can handle my own!" I scream as soon as the drunk dude is out of earshot.

"Yeah, I can tell," he snickers, mocking me. "Slow down, killer. I came out here to find you for Sky," He smirks. "She wants to leave and I'm her ride. But since you can handle your own, I'm sure you don't want a ride from me. You can call a cab, right?" he scoffs, turning to walk off.

"You are such an ass. You know that?" I hiss. Contemplating, in my head whether I want to risk riding home alone with that creepy cab driver. Or if I should suck my pride up and allow Hayden to give me a ride.

Reluctantly, I have to admit Hayden is the safer choice. At least with him, I know I will make it home in one piece. Giving in I bow my head, following behind him. I refuse to speak as we head back in, through the crowded house, and out the front door. Sky and Hope had managed to make it to his car first. Snuggled up in the back seat, they don't acknowledge us walking up, entangled in a fit of passion.

As mad as I am at him, I admit I'm surprised by how nice he keeps his vehicle. It's an older car but in excellent shape. The body is shiny black, it's so clean you can see your reflection.  A thick red stripe goes directly down the middle, outlined in white. It's a two-door model, making getting in the back a hassle. Like most Mustangs a silver emblem is positioned in the middle of the grill. Small cursive lettering spelling out the word Mustang is written on the bottom front corner of each door. Another small emblem with the Mustang design sits above the lettering. They finished it with matching red stripes running horizontally across the bottom of the doors, stripes running from tire to tire. Even the inside wall of the tires is trimmed in the same matching red outline. There's not one scratch or scrape on its paint.

The inside is also immaculate. Both the front and back seats are bench-style. Each row has three places for someone to sit, made of a softer velvet red leather. Considering the vehicle's age none of them have even a slight crack in the material. He keeps the dashboard spotless and wiped free of any dust or smudges.

Climbing into the passenger seat, I'm overwhelmed by the softness. Sitting back I allow my body to sink into the oversized seats. Closing my eyes, I'm surrounded by Hayden's scent. Every inch of his car smells identical to him. A single red air freshener swings back and forth in the cool night air whipping in the open windows.

A deep roar startles me as the engine revs, coming alive. Settling back in, I'm glad I chose to ride with him. I enjoy the quiet, relaxing ride across campus. He has the radio on, turned down, quietly playing in the background. The words coming from it are a hushed whisper, only the beat of the instruments can be heard. It's peaceful, besides the random sucking and slurping noises coming from the backseat. Wanting to give them privacy I ignore them, keeping my eyes on the road ahead.

"Hayden, can you drop us off at Hope's please" Sky mumbles, popping her head up between the seats. A series of minor hiccups follow after. Looking back at her in the rearview mirror his eyebrow raises slightly as he nods. "One more favor and I'll leave you alone, I promise. Can you make sure that Bex gets home safe pretty please?" She begs, throwing herself backward into the seat. She lets out a loud belch which seems to have helped stop her hiccups. The smell of stale beer wafts up front, making my stomach churn.

"What do I look like a damn taxi cab" He spats, becoming more annoyed with her behavior. I can't decide if he's being a smart ass or just aggravated. I hope that taking me home doesn't make him mad. He's the one that came and found me. Maybe, he didn't plan on making two stops.

"Shut up, and stop being a grouch. Damn, it won't kill you just do it. And if you don't I'll call Momma" Sky giggles, finding her comment hilarious. Her giggles turn into a fit of full-blown laughter. Hope sits beside her, attempting to shut her up by covering her mouth. Sky's face looks bright red as she clutches her side, still laughing.  They both have had entirely too much to drink.

Both are slouched over, using each other's bodies for support. I can't decide which one is more drunk. Neither of them can hold their eyes open. They look stoned, with red glassy eyes. Being sober makes me realize how ridiculous I must have looked back in the day. Sky snorts, using her hand to wipe away the spit flying out. It doesn't work. I'm relieved when we stop in front of a tall grey stone building. Large brass numbers reading 165 are tacked over the entryway. This must be where Hope lives. The building is taller than mine and older. Most of the structure is covered in thick strands of green ivy, inching its way up. A wobbly, dark wooden fence leans up against the front portion of the yard. Several pieces of the wood are missing, the remaining ones are cracked or broken.

"Bye, guys! I loovvvvee you so much," Sky slurs, reaching over the front seat. Using both of her arms she wraps Hayden into a giant bear squeeze. While embracing him she places a huge, wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a trail of red lipstick.

She hugs him once more before stumbling out of the car behind Hope. Neither of them can walk straight, half-tripping and stumbling over their feet. At least they have each other to hold on to. Sky's poor saggy purse hangs helplessly between them, swaying back and forth. We sit patiently waiting and watching them struggle toward the door. Once they're safely inside, he drives off, heading toward my dorm.

"I bet Hope's happy she has an individual room," Hayden teases. His hand grazes mine as he reaches over spinning the dial on the radio. As soon as his skin touches mine, he jerks away, acting like I've burned him.

We continue driving in silence, with only the radio still softly playing. Pulling up to my dorm I expect him to let me out. But he doesn't. Instead, sliding into an empty spot and shutting the car off.

"Umm, what are you doing?" I ask, raising my eyebrow in curiosity, and breaking the awkward silence.

"Well, my roommate texted me earlier to let me know he's bringing a female friend back to the room. And since Sky's bed is empty, I'd rather sleep in it than my car," he replies, pulling the keys out of the ignition before sliding them into his front pocket. Great, I think to myself, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.

The room is pitch black when we arrive. I struggle in the dark to find the switch. Walking blindly, I succeed in tripping over a shoe, catching myself as the light comes on. Our mess from earlier is everywhere, clothes thrown all around.

"You guys are straight slobs," he grins, picking my bra up from the bed, carelessly, tossing it into the open hamper.

"Excuse you, that would be your sister. Not me," I correct him, offended he thought that about me. I may not be a neat freak, but I'm far from a slob.

"You know the drill. Now turn around so I can get these clothes off please," I ask nicely. I'm worn out and not in the mood to argue. I hope my sweet charm keeps us from having another screaming match. I doubt I could keep up, my body's drained. He sighs but reluctantly turns. I rush to get out of my skirt. Grabbing a pair of yoga pants from the bed I slide them up over my rear. I feel much better already. That skirt was uncomfortable. The entire night I had to avoid bending over, terrified my ass would pop out. 

 I'm pulling my shirt over my head when I sense him walking up behind me. My breath catches in my throat as his fingers stroke my sides. "What are you doing?" I stammer. My words come out in more of a hushed whisper than I intended. He doesn't respond. Instead, his warm breath bathes over me, kissing the curve of my neck. I stand motionless, allowing him to drift over my collarbone with his tongue.

"Turn around," he whispers in my ear. Before moving, I snatch a random shirt from the closet. I'm faster than him, rushing to cover my scar. 

"There are you happy?" I whine, swirling around to face him. I'm standing in front of him in only my pants and bra. The shirt in hand, pressed against my stomach, hiding my hideous flaw.

"What are you hiding? You are gorgeous, and should never be ashamed of anything," he questions, his voice full of concern. He's staring at me. His eyes locked on where my shirt lay bunched up tightly against me. I can't move. I'm frozen.  Moving his hands lower onto my waist he tries gently, pulling the shirt out of my grasp. He fails, in response, gripping it tighter.

"Nothing" I whisper. My eyes dart around the room, trying to find an escape.

"Come on Bex, I told you I wouldn't ever judge you," he whines, almost pleading with me. He continues tugging lightly on the shirt. Before I can regrip it the thin material slips through my fingers, landing on the ground between us. Instantly I try to cover myself with my hand before he can see it. But this time he's faster, stopping my hand with his, completely blocking me. His hands are so soft as he touches the roughness of my skin. Taking his time he cautiously outlines the edge of my wound with his fingertips.

"What happened? Does it hurt?" he asks. The lines of his face soften in the scarce amount of moonlight peeking in.

"I don't want to talk about it, okay? Please just let it go" I pull away, catching him off guard. I'm relieved he doesn't fight me on the matter. Not wanting to take a chance he'll reconsider I slide the tee over my head. Making sure that every inch of my scar is covered.

"It has something to do with your nightmares, doesn't it?" He asks, attempting to pull me back to him. I don't think it's registering that I don't want to discuss it. I don't want him or anyone else to know about my past. The only thing I want to do is lie on my bed and go to sleep. I try pulling away from him. But he holds onto my wrist, keeping me rooted in place.

"Who is Johnny? Did he do that to you?" He asks, assuming he figured something out. But he's wrong. I know it was innocent, that he didn't mean anything by it. But him thinking Johnny would ever do something to me, tears me apart. It's like a slap to the face. I refuse to let anyone speak ill of his name.  How dare he make accusations about someone he never met, and never will. My blood is boiling, replaying his questions in my head. 

"No, are you crazy? What the fuck, he would never hurt me," I scream. The tone of my voice was now ice cold, snatching my arm from his grasp. "And to be completely honest with you, it's none of your damn business who he is or what happened to me," I growl back at him. My response comes out a lot harsher than I meant to. My eyes are slits, glaring at him. I'm trying hard to keep some distance between us out of fear I might strike him.

"Hey don't be mad at me. I'm sorry okay? I wasn't trying to pry, just asking," his voice falters. I know he doesn't know the truth. How could he? He has no idea who Johnny was, or how much he meant to me. It's not his fault he saw a huge scar and was curious. I probably would be too, if the roles were switched. While lost in thought, I didn't notice he released my hand, backing up.

"I can tell it's a touchy subject. And don't worry, everyone has secrets that no one knows.  I won't bring it up again unless you do. I promise," he sighs, turning away from me, and sitting on Sky's bed.  Without saying anything he adjusts his body, leaning back but still watching me.

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself down. I'm racking my brain for any of the hundreds of tips my therapist taught me for relaxation, but nothing.  Slowly breathing in through my mouth and out my nose, silently counting to ten in my mind. After a few moments of doing this, I feel a small sense of relief. 

"I'm sorry too, and you're right. I don't want to talk about it. But I shouldn't have taken it out on you." I apologize, finally finding my voice. I can't stay mad at him. A small part of my mind registers this factor as a major red flag. 

Giving up on trying to fix things tonight I climb into bed, turning away from him. Being in my bed makes me feel secure as I pull my comforter around me, burying myself deep into it. Hopefully, facing the wall will keep him from trying to talk to me, and he will go to sleep soon.

I listen as he gets up, walking over, and turning the overhead light off. A sudden wave of darkness fills the room. It's completely silent besides his faint footsteps and the squeak of the bed as he lies down.  I drift off to sleep, wondering if he's thinking about me like I am him.