It wasn't that I was competitive, it was just that I didn't like losing, and I especially didn't like losing to Reese, because it was Reese, and really, fuck him. 

     Which meant that when I accidentally caught his eye across the room, amber eyes meeting mine and narrowed in a challenge, I might have abruptly stolen Savannah's drink, swung it back in two seconds flat, crinkled the cup in my hand and chucked it on the floor with a ridiculous amount of force.

     I wasn't competitive, but Reese was going down.

     My throat burned as the flames of the vodka trailed down, and Savannah eyed the discarded cup warily. "If you were thirsty you could have just told me."

     I barely even registered her words as I scanned the room, a fire in my eyes, liquid determination coursing through my veins. Or that could have just been the tequila shots from earlier. But either way, my gaze was drinking in every jawline and every bicep, calculating probability and other stats at record speeds in my mind, finding The One.

     The One that I was kiss so good that he would instantaneously fall in love with me because goddamnit, I was a good kisser. Watching romantic comedies every Friday night with Savannah and Eva was not a waste, it was research, and now I was going to rock some little boy's mind. With science. 

     "Me? I can't get someone to make out with? Psht, boys- boys are idiots. I can get one to make out with me, no problem, whatever," I murmured low under my breath, teeth gritting, eyes narrowed.

     Teenage boys were basically meat and hormones; they'd hump a pillow if you put some nice lipstick on it. I could get a boy to make out with me. Probably. I hoped.

     "What? Sorry, Stells, I couldn't hear you over the music," Savannah said, knitting her brows and cupping a hand around her ear. "Could you repeat that?"

     "How do you get boys to kiss you?" I asked, louder this time, my lips pursing in thought as I continued to look out across the room, pointedly avoiding Reese's shit-eating grin. "How does that whole thing, you know, work?"

     Savannah eyed my wild hand gestures and then cocked her head, eyebrows raised. "You're really going for Tyler tonight?" she asked, a grin breaking out across her face.

     I nodded, still slightly distracted. "Yeah, Tyler, explain."

     "Well just get close to him, touch his arm, lean in, that sort of thing. Stella!" she squealed, mouth gaping in excitement. "I can't believe you're finally going for it; I feel like it's been so lon- Eva! Get your shirt back on! No! Do not run away from! Eva Martinez you get your ass back here right now!"

     I watched with wide, shocked eyes as Savannah immediately broke out in a sprint into the other room, a frown pressed into her face and blonde hair trailing after her, where I assumed Eva was running around half-naked like a chicken with it's head chopped off.

     Instinctually I took a step forward to follow them, but then paused, recognizing the shining opportunity that had fallen in my lap in much the same way Eva's shirt had fallen off her body. With Reese distracting Tyler, Eva distracting Savannah, and tequila distracting Eva, now was my time to strike.

     Swallowing a deep breath, I turned my attention back to the room, pulling in the atmosphere. Some of the faces were vaguely familiar, disembodied names floated around my head with no actual faces to attach them to, but that hardly mattered. All I needed was a boy, who had a face, and some lips on that face.

     Names were not important.

     Now I just had to strike up a conversation with one of them, talk boy things. Boys liked fast cars and hot girls. And meat. And video games. And boobs. I could do this. At the very least- while boobs were not physically my forte, I could do meat.

     I squared my shoulders and marched with a sense of purpose, face hard, eyebrows pinched, right into a huddle of very confused people. Or rather, boys. Who all paused mid-drink as I forced myself between two of them, a taller dark boy and a shorter one with red hair and a speckling of freckles. They both stared at me with question. I swallowed.

     All I needed was one of them to take interest. The higher the numbers, the better my chances, I figured.

     It wasn't as if I'd never spoken to anyone of the male persuasion before, and yet, as the seconds ticked by and the lull in conversation continued to scream in my ears, the vowels were dissolving on my tongue.

     Boy things. Talk boy things.

     "How do you guys feel about meat?" I asked, blinking, wearing a shaky grin.

     They said nothing. Nothing at all. Just stared, dark, soul-sucking eyes boring into me. No words.

     And as I looked up- ah yes, there was my soul, escaping from my lips, floating far, far away and disappearing into the abyss, leaving my physical body to rot in utter shame and mortification.

     "I'm just gonna- I'm gonna go now. Thank you. For this riveting conversation. I'll take this as my cue."

     It took all my effort not to crawl into a hole and die Quasimodo style, and really, that could just be due to the heat of booze that was still radiating in my chest. At least the buzz that was clouding my eyes made it bearable, although morning Stella was probably going to jump off the roof. For now, at least, I had the rest of the night.

     Just as I had poured myself another drink and was ready to buckle up the chastity belt myself, Wyatt appeared, all chaotic blond hair, face flushed and radiating with delight. He instantaneously caught me in a bone-crushing hug, roaring my name in my ear and punctuating it with a too-loud laugh that ignited all the way down my spine.

     "I never thought I would be so happy to see you!" I cried, returning to hug back just as hard. "A boy! A real-live boy!"

     "Want me to drop my pants just to check?" When he pulled away, there was a cheeky grin splitting across his face.

     I snorted. "I trust you, but seriously. Wyatt, I never thought I'd say this but- I need you."

     He nodded, drawing a sigh. "I always knew this day would come- lay it on me. What can Big Papa help you with?"

     "Big-?" I began to question, but when I met Wyatt's eye, I immediately felt the question evaporate. There was no beginning in figuring out what that boy actually meant. "Listen, I know this may be weird, but I need to find someone to make out with. Like, now."

     He hummed in understanding, his fingers poised at his chin. "Go on."

     "Really, anyone, I'm serious. Preferably with a nice face but also I just asked a group of strangers their thoughts on meat, so I don't know if I can be too picky right now," I admitted, scratching my forehead with furrowed brows. The reality of the situation was beginning to crash over me tsunami-like, and the results were not being very pretty.

     Science was supposed to be on my side. Goddamn, science.

     "And like, okay if you could just help me, I know it sounds weird, but could you just lead me in the right direction of where I should go? I mean, okay, I know you're not ga-"

     "We clearly have four different routes we can take," he interrupted me, his face eerily calm, void of the easy grin that usually graced it.

     I paused, blinking as I tried to make sense of this boy in front of me that definitely was not the Wyatt I'd seen before. His face was determined, looking more like he was about to explain the plot of some elaborate bank heist than how to kiss a teenage boy. His mouth was pressed in a thin line that meant business.

     "The first route is hard, but it has the highest reward. Chuck over there, he's hot, but he also think he's hot shit. He's picky, but really, he just wants someone to boost him up. Which means that if you stroke his ego enough, there's a good chance you'll be able to stroke something else." There was a devilish glint in his eye.

     "Wyatt!" I gasped, slapping him in the arm, "This is very PG-13, okay? I'm talking above-the-clothes type deal over here."

     I may have wanted to show up Reese, but I was not drunkenly losing my virginity to some random guy at a party just to throw some middle-fingers up in the air. I wasn't expecting anything that special, but damnnit, I better be fed some good food after the whole v-card debacle, and Chuck didn't really seem like the pillow talk type.

     Wyatt nodded again, hand returning to his chin. "All right, that could be tricky. Now, my second option is easy, technically, but a little harsh on the eyes. I've seen Terrance lurking around here-"

     "Fuck trench coat Terrance. No. No way. He hissed at me the other day. I am not going there. Like, I can admit, I'm a little weird, I'm a little offbeat, whatever, but he actually full out- like a damned cat, Wyatt. He hissed at me." I crossed my arms over my chest, face twisted in disgust, resurrecting those uncomfortable memories of when apparently I had strayed too close to Terrence's locker.

     Wyatt threw his hands up in innocence, the grin from his face never faltering. "All right, all right, that's okay. We've got bachelor number three: Isaac."

     I paused for a moment, eyes trailing over to the boy I remembered from History, who was lounging quite comfortably on the couch. His face was familiar, with dark hair, a splash of freckles, and lanky limbs, he wasn't bad looking by any means. We'd had passing conversations before, at least, where I didn't make a complete asshole of myself. That was promising.

     "Isaac?"

     "Yeah," Wyatt hummed with a nod, "He's pretty drunk and you're a pretty girl. Guarantee he'll think everything you say is hilarious, if you just bat your eyelashes his way, he'll attack your face no problem."

     I touched my palm against my lips, rolling over the possibility in my mind, eyeing the boy from across the room.

     It was strange, I'd been so focused on Tyler for so many years, that the idea of straying from him felt, really, just weird. I'd gotten so comfortable in my crush, dug myself a little hole and tucked myself in the security blanket of our non-existent relationship. Because of that, I'd never even really thought much of other guys.

     I could admit a guy was hot, but when it came down to it, my loyal eyes never wandered off too far.

     Looking over to Wyatt, I tilted my head in question. "What about bachelor number four?"

     The grin on his face returned with a vengeance. "Now, I know you might not be up for it, but I'm willing to help you out- I'll make out with you."

     There was a beat of silence that passed, and slowly the same overly-eager grin found my face as his words settled in my mind. "Wyatt, really? You'd do that for me? You'd make out with me?" I asked, eyes sparkling, the horizon of victory racing towards me.

     Wyatt was cute and it was almost impossible to be weird around him- he was the perfect candidate. And a part of me was excited to see Reese's stupid face when I was kissing up on his best friend (although if he was planning on returning the favour I was also very ready to slice his lips off with a machete).

     "What? Of course Stella, don't you remember? We're soul sisters- girl, I'm here for you."

     My palm found my chest. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," I admitted, eyes round and heart touched.

     I threw my arms around him, capturing him into a hug that he enthusiastically returned. Regardless if it was playing out more like a business transaction than a moment of passion, it didn't matter. What mattered was that I could totally get a guy to kiss me. Even if it was out of pity- still counted.

     As I pulled away and held Wyatt out in front of me, I felt my eyes begin to drift closed. Might as well get it over with.

     Just as I was inches from Wyatt's face, I felt a palm slam against my chest and push me back, causing me to stumble with flailing arms. My eyes shot open to see Reese standing in between us, a deadpan look written across his face.

     "No."

     "Reese!" I whined, coming out more childishly than I'd anticipated. "It counts! Let me kiss him! It totally counts!"

     Wyatt merely looked on, mildly interesting, blinking. Clearly he wasn't going to fight for the chance to kiss my face.

     Reese crossed his arms over his chest, a frown settling on his lips. "Nope, no way. You told him what was happening, it doesn't count."

     I gasped, feeling the burn of his words. "I didn't! That's so mean! You don't think Wyatt would kiss me because he wanted to?"

     My eyes darted towards the blond boy for help, but as expected, he merely gave a shrug. I couldn't even find it in myself to blame him, it was so quintessentially Wyatt. Still, when I looked back to Reese, his face remained less than convinced, his bushy brow cocked.

     "No."

     "I'll have you know, I take great offense to that."

     "Good," he said, nodding his head. "Take that and go make out with someone, and don't tell them I set you up to it. It needs to be organic, that's the entire point of this, Sandavol."

     When I met his eye and saw that he wasn't backing down, I pulled a face. "That's the entire point, Sandavol," I mimicked him under my breath, but judging by the sharp look he threw at me, he heard.

     "Unless you don't think you can?"

     As the words floated past his lips, I could see the terribly indulgent grin break onto his face, all teeth and arrogance. It lit a flame of irritation within me, and so snatching the beer he had in his hand, I turned on my heel and stalked towards the couch.

    Isaac it was.

    My eyes took a quick scan of the room to find it sans Tyler, Savannah, or Eva, and Reese's lingering gaze kept travelling over, so it was good enough. Isaac was good enough.

     When I dumped my body next to his on the couch, his reaction was delayed by a couple of seconds. After a moment he turned his head, though, and grin devoured his face, hands thrown up in the air.

     "Stella!" he called, the liquid in his red solo cup sloshing dangerously. "Stella Sandavol!"

     That was a better start than last time, at least.

     "Isaac!" I returned, mirroring his grin. "How've you been, man?"

     There was a distinct flush on his cheeks underneath the constellation of freckles, telling of more than just the beer in his hand that he kept waving around with sloppy, sluggish movements. A slur crept into his words every so often, but he seemed coherent enough. As I sipped on my beer, I was edging closer and closer to his level, and his jokes were getting funnier and funnier.

     It wasn't until he rested his arm on the back of the couch, brushing against my shoulders, did I even remember that I was supposed to be attacking his face with mine.

     "So," I segued, interrupting Isaac midsentence, inching closer to him. "You don't have a girlfriend, do you?"

      The smile that lit up his face was weightless. "Nah, taking it easy. Can't be tied down. Keeping my options open."

     "Oh?" I asked, eyebrows raising in surprise. "Any options that look promising?"

     Savannah's words echoed in the back of my mind, but I couldn't force my body to move any closer. I could feel the flush of alcohol creep from my chest and the pleasant haze was buzzing in my bloodstream, but I couldn't deny my nerves igniting too.

     Isaac was easy enough to talk to, if you asked a simple question he'd return it with at least three different stories that he always looked more than delighted to share, but I didn't really want to kiss him. I felt no pull towards his lips, felt no excitement sparking in my lungs. But, again, I was not losing to Reese, because fuck him.

     (And at this point I really was beginning to worry that I was actually sexually defective, honestly.)

     Which meant that when I saw his eyes travel down to my mouth quite obviously, and then migrate back up again to meet my eyes, well, I didn't exactly move away. His eyes drifted to a close, and so I followed suit, feeling nothing other than the small fear that we were in an open room where people could see us, and the slight sway of vodka.

     I waited, my eyes remaining shut and immersed in the dark, but there was nothing. I didn't want to ruin the mood, and so I shifted, still waiting, hoping. I was just about to peek open an eye to make sure he hadn't run away, when it hit me.

     And the it was not his lips, but rather, a warm, liquid substance all over my chest.

***

hey guys! so initially i really did not want to split this chapter up into two parts, because i know you guys said you liked longer chapters, but as i realized it was like almost 6000 words, i as like damn, this too long, ahaha. so i thought this was a nice place to split it. c: 

also just if you guy's didn't know, murphy's law is the law of stella's life, ahahaha. also wyatt !!! 

however!!! because we got to #3??? in humor and 220K!! i will be updated the next chapter tomorrow and oh boy

guys.

i think you'll like it. c: