"A party? Today? There's school tomorrow. And there's going to be alcohol. And boys. I know you think I'm some kind of old, 'last generation' conservative but I will have you know I can be lit and liberal and I can say no to my daughter," Allison says firmly.

"What Allison's trying to say is that we're grateful that you're slowly coming out of your shell, and that you've made friends, but is it really wise to go to a party when there's school the next morning? Not to mention that it could potentially be harmful to you considering the substances that go around, and you've only known Zara for a week, and you barely know anyone else at the school; is it really that safe to go to a party full of people you don't know?" Kira explains kindly, and I sigh, staring down at my feet.

It's a week later, and I silently curse whoever made Halloween fall on a Monday. There is school tomorrow, but it's a half day, and I doubt it will matter anyways. It's not that I really need to go to this party or something, but I have to admit, I was a little hopeful about going. I'm not going to drink or anything—I don't even want to drink, but maybe I could force myself to go back to who I was.

"Mom, I promise I'll be back before midnight. I swear. And I'm not drinking or anything. I'm just going out with Zara because she asked me and I'm..." my voice suddenly cracks, and I realize there's a huge difference between thinking things and carrying out the action. "I'm just hoping for a change, okay."

"There are steps you can take before this one. I know you want your old life back—we both do, but we just think that this going to this party could be more impulsive rather than something that would actually help," Kira says calmly and slowly.

"No, I swear. I'm not going to drink even a little bit, and we don't even know if there's going to be alcohol; it's just an assumption. I swear Kira, I won't do anything. I'll keep my phone on the whole time, and you can send me a check in text every twenty minutes or something, and I'll immediately text you back," I assure. I know how much I sound like a hysterical, privileged teenage girl, but there's a big part of me hoping that maybe going to a party will help me get over something. Kira might be right about the impulse thing, but I won't know unless I actually try right?

"Lexi..." Allison trails off staring at Kira and I with a heartbroken expression.

"It's your life Lexi. You know where both of us stand, but in the end, there's not much we can do. If you really think that this is going to help you, then go. But at least think about if for a while before you go," Kira explains, and Allison nods along with her.

"Yeah. You can always help out hand candy to the trick-or-treaters. Or you and I can go toilet-paper someone's house if you already have enemies. Whatever you teenagers do," Allison says and Kira gives her a quick glare.

"We're supposed to be encouraging responsible behavior," Kira hisses, pulling Allison away from me, and I catch Allison rolling her eyes.

"Okay so maybe you can't toilet-paper someone's house. But you can lock yourself in your room and watch Netflix," Allison says.

"I'll be back before twelve. I'm not going to do anything bad, and I'll stick with Zara the whole time," I promise, staring down at my toes, guilt filling me up. I can't even bring myself to look Allison and Kira in the eyes; my ears are red, and all I want to do is go to my room and curl up into a ball begging that Allison and Kira don't hate me.

I scold myself for making such a big deal out of something small. It's very easy to just not go, and tell Zara that I can't go. But god... the hope that I can change something is just pulling at me, and I know it's going to bother me until I go.

"I'm sorry," I mutter. "But can't I at least try and see if something changes? I can talk to some new people. This school is very different from my old one, and maybe it'll make me different too."

"Just make good decisions," Kira sighs, and I nod.

"I will," I say, hoping I can carry that promise through.

• • •

"I don't drink," I inform, and Zara doesn't skip a beat."Okay, Hayley's house is intimidating at first glance, but it's actually very easy to maneuver around. Just ask around you'll eventually find your way to a bathroom or some place to throw up," Zara explains animatedly, using a lot of hand gestures to get her point across.

"Oh. Well then I guess you can go out to the pool or something. Or you can come find me. I'm the driver for tonight, so I won't be drinking either. Most likely, I'll be trying to find Michel because I've been wanting to talk to him since forever, and maybe today will finally be my chance," Zara says. "Maybe you can find some guy. High school romance, you know?"

"Well... I mean..." I stutter. I've never really had a boyfriend. Of course there were one or two guys that I hooked up with at parties, but that was literally just one or two. And Nathan would probably be the closest to boyfriend I've ever had. There was really no time for romance in my life, or at least, I just didn't prioritize it. Now, there's certainly no room for romance in my life. There's no way in hell I want to get close to another person. It's already hard enough worrying about Allison and Kira and their safety. And I want to keep my distance from Zara too—she's very nice, and I like her a lot, but I don't want to get close to her either. And if I throw in a boyfriend to the mix, it might just be too much to handle.

"I know you said you don't drink, but if you're ever looking to live out a fairytale teenage romance, just throw back some shots, wake up in a stranger's bed, and something should happen if you plan it out correctly," Zara says, and I give her a confused look.

"Have you ever done that?"

Zara nods, and then cringes. "I didn't sleep with him though as I found out later, and his breath smelled really bad. In fact, he was actually pretty ugly. Have you noticed that a lot of boys at this school are ugly? Well except for Michel. But aside from him, most of the guys here set the bar so low, and act like pigs."

"I don't really know any boys here, but I'll take your word for it," I say. I don't have any plans of waking next to a stranger tomorrow morning. In fact, I have to be home by twelve, and I'm not going to mess that up either. I have two hours at this party, and then I'm going home. How? I don't know. But I will.

"When do you have to be home?" Zara asks. "My dad thinks I'm studying, so he just said not to come home too late."

"Twelve," I say, and Zara nods.

"Okay, I can make that happen. Let's go inside. Just text me or find me and tell me when you need to leave. My phone's going to be on."

Zara and I walk towards the entrance of the house from where she's parked her car, and already, I know that it's going to be just as bad as the parties I used to go to. There's people puking on the lawn, a few couples making out on the stairs, and there's a group by the bushes holding a lighter.

Inside is no better.

The second I step inside, my eyes are flooded with neon lights. The smell of sweat and booze makes my nose hurt and eyes water. Bodies are pushing against me and against each other. Zara is grabbing my hand and pulling me in some direction, but all I can think is:

I should've listened to my parents.

I want to leave. I want to leave right now. I don't want to fucking be here, but my stupid ass is here. I don't want to ask Zara to take me home either; she looked pretty happy at getting a chance to talk to Michel, and I don't have the heart to ruin it for her.

But god I don't want to be here.

Zara pulls me over to a section of the house where there aren't too many people, and she says, "okay, you know the drill. You can come to help me talk to Michel if you'd like, but I don't think you want to see me be a klutz."

"Actually, do you know where the bedrooms are? I should probably text my parents that I'm here or they'll worry," I say, praying that there's an empty bedroom somewhere. The house is big, but even so, big houses mean more rooms which means more people in there doing the deed.

"Is your dad a hardass too? I mean, both of them crack down on me, but my dad is so strict. One glare from him could probably melt your bones," Zara laughs, and I stop short. Over the course of this week, Zara has learned more about me, but the one thing I haven't mentioned is that I have two moms.

Allison and Kira are both lesbians, and I have no problem with it. They love me just as much as any other straight couple would, but I know that a lot of others do. Neither of them talked about it much, and they've shut up completely about it after what happened, but they don't know that I notice the small glares thrown at them when they hold hands in public, or the disapproving mutters.

"I," I shake my head and decide to tell her the truth. If we're going to be friends, then I have to know if she'll accept this. "I don't have a dad. I have two moms."

"Wait, how?" Zara frowns in confusion, and then she grins once she finally understands it. "That's so cool! Do they take you to pride? Is it fun there? Do you get all those inside gay jokes I see on the internet?"

"Um...they took me to pride once, but it's too crowded there for me. And no, I don't get those inside jokes, unless I've heard one of my moms say it before."

"You know what, that is so freaking awesome! Wait, are you adopted then?" Zara asks.

"Yeah," I reply, and Zara nods even more eagerly.

"Your life is so cool! Okay, you know what, tomorrow at school, I need to know more. You should've told me earlier!"

"Well what about you?" I ask, and Zara rolls her eyes.

"My mom and dad migrated here from Saudi Arabia more thirty years ago. They both finished their education here, and then they got married. My dad's an English major and he's a professor and my mom served in the US army for a few years, but that's still not American enough for these people. And then they had me a few years after marriage, and then they had my sister who's stupid, but not stupider than me. The end," Zara explains exasperatedly.

"Okay, first of all, you're not stupid. And your mom was in the army, and your parents are immigrants! That's hella cool," I say, and Zara shakes her head.

"Do you know how annoying it is to have a mom who served? Every time I say I don't want to do the laundry, do you know what she pulls?" Zara complains. She puts on a slight accent and says, "'I did not go to war just so my daughter could complain about the laundry. Do you know what I saw? I could've died. And for what? My own daughter to refuse to help me out in the house? My god Zara.'" Zara makes a big deal of shaking her head, and giving me a disappointed look.

"Okay, but still, that's cool. They're immigrants, they've lived both here and Saudi Arabia, and they probably know two languages," I argue, and Zara shakes her head again.

"You sweet, mistaken child."

"Huh?"

"You know what, forget I said that. I forgot this isn't Tumblr. I'm going to go find Michel now. What was it that you needed? Sorry, I got swept up in the conversation," Zara says, and I reply, "I just wanted to see if there were any bedrooms in here."

"Oh yeah. They're upstairs. Do you want me to take you?"

"No thanks. You go get your guy," I say, and Zara laughs, giving me a thumbs up.

"I will get him. Thanks. Remember, just text me when you need to go," Zara reminds, and I nod.

"Will do."

Zara heads off into the crowd, and I take a deep breath, groaning when I realize I didn't even ask Zara where the stairs where. I follow her into the crowd, pushing past the people, and finally managing to find the staircase. The house is pretty huge, so I hope that this staircase leads upstairs.

I cringe when I see a couple making out on the staircase, the guy pulling the girl's dress up. In fact, as I head upstairs, that seems to be quite common on these stairs. I squint my eyes and stumble up the stairs, ignoring the sounds some of those couples are making.

Finally, the long staircase ends, and I end up somewhere with hallways and a game room from what I can make out. I pray that there's no one in the rooms that I'm going into, and I pick the room that's the closest to me. I hear hoots and shouts from the game room, and I think I hear someone calling me, but I ignore whatever else is happening, determined to sit tight until I have to leave.

Unfortunately, the second I open it, I see that there's someone in the room. Actually two people, a boy, and a girl, and the girl's on her knees... oh god.

"What the fuck!" The boy yells when he sees me frozen in shock and disgust.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" I exclaim and shut the door as fast as I can.

Those images will never go away.

I shudder, rubbing my shoulders, and move onto the next door. Before I open it this time, I lean my ear against it, searching for any noise, and it doesn't sound like there's any. I rest my hand on the cold metal of the doorknob and close my eyes as I open it, hoping that if there's someone in there, they'll yell at me and I can leave without being scarred.

Fortunately, there's no yelling, and I slowly open my eyes. The bedroom's empty. I shut the door, and lock it before collapsing on the messy bed. I look around the room, and it doesn't look like it belongs to anyone. There are no photographs on the wall, or some kind of indicator that it belongs to another person. There's just the plain bed, a closet, and an empty bookshelf in the corner. I roll over on the bed to face the window, and I realize that there's a bathroom attached to the room.

I envy whoever doesn't have to make the life-threatening trip down the hallway to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

"Dude, when the fuck are you leaving? I can't drive myself; I drank too much. Well then tell the girl you'll come back another time! You know I have to go tomorrow!" Someone exits the bathroom, wiping their mouth with the back of the hand.

I instantly sit right up, and blush as the person walks out of the bathroom. I don't need anyone to catch me trying to chase the moon like some kind of cat chasing the little red dot.

The guy turns towards me, and then looks at the door. It's the guy that Zara pointed out earlier. Andrew, or whatever his name is. Even though the room is dark, now that we're closer, I can make out much more about his face. His nose is slightly crooked, and... damn. He doesn't look too scrawny either.

"Who are you?" Andrew snaps abrasively, and I immediately stand up, blushing again, and my hair falling in front of my face as if to hide it.

"Sorry, I'll go," I mutter, looking down and heading towards the door.

"Nah. Most of the other rooms are occupied anyways," Andrew says, shaking his head. "Just stay on your side."

I look back at him and frown. "My side?"

"Yeah, you can have the right side of the room, and I can have the side with the bathroom," Andrew says shrugging.

"What if I need to use the bathroom?"

"I'm sure there's a pot you can use somewhere," Andrew says casually.

"Are you serious?" I snap suddenly. I'm not one for confrontation—god no, I'd worry too much about the other person's feelings, but Andrew's immediately made me put up my defenses.

"Do I look like I'm fucking kidding princess?"

"You can say it nicely," I retort, and then sit on the edge of the right side of the bed, throwing him a glare which he smirks at.

"I could... but I don't want to."

I roll my eyes, and then shiver again. I may be upstairs, away from all the people and the partying, but even the environment is making me uncomfortable. I just want to go home, but at the same time, Zara's been nice to me. She's talked to me, and she's made me feel welcome. She shouldn't have to watch over me and make sure I feel good.

"Is it cold for you?" Andrew asks. I notice that one of his hairs doesn't sit right on his head, and it falls onto his forehead. I get an urge to pull at it and see if it's like a spring.

"I'm fine," I say. "Just waiting for my friend to be finished."

"Finished with what?"

"I don't know; she went off somewhere," I mutter.

"And she just left you here by yourself?" Andrew asks. "She doesn't seem like a very good friend."

"I'm not by myself. I'm with you," I remind, and Andrew nods.

"Are you new here? I've never seen you before," Andrew asks, and I nod.

"I just moved here last week," I say. "Wait, weren't you telling your friend that you're drunk? You don't seem drunk."

"Why do you care if I'm drunk or not?" Andrew snaps. "Besides, how do you know I'm not drunk? Because I'm not slurring over my words or tripping over my feet? Hate to break it to you but not everyone strips and dances on tables while drunk."

I can't help but snort at that statement. He's right. I've never done either of those while drunk. Mostly, I just brood in the corners, trying to stop my head from spinning, and holding my tongue.

"Well what do you do when drunk?" I ask, and Andrew shrugs.

"Again, why do you care?"

"I-I don't. I'm just trying to keep a conversation going in case I'm going to be stuck here for a while," I say.

"You sound disappointed to be here," Andrew notes, and I shrug. To be honest, I would rather be alone, but I won't outright tell him I want to be alone either. It seems rude to kick him when he was here first. It's rude to kick him out—period.

"You know, a lot of girls would kill to be all alone in a room with me..." Andrew drawls and I widen my eyes, staring even more intently at the carpeted floor, my face turning bright red.

"I just moved here Andrew. I don't know you, let alone anyone," I state, trying to keep my voice as level as possible. I don't want Andrew to think I hate him or anything. Suddenly, my face turns even redder when I realize that I called Andrew by his name.

Great.

Andrew smirks again, and he chuckles. "Are you absolutely sure you don't know me?"

"I don't know you. I just know your name. That's it. A girl was telling me about you, and that's all," I explain in an attempt to save myself from embarrassment. Of course, from what I can tell about Andrew, it doesn't seem like he'll help. There were plenty of boys like him back at my school, though I will say, Andrew is more attractive than any of the other boys at my old school.

"What did she say?"

"She was just pointing you out," I say honestly. Zara doesn't like Andrew; she's obsessed with Michel. Personally, I think Andrew's better looking than Michel, and better looking than most of the guys I know. "Besides, it doesn't even matter. Even if I did overhear gossip about you, it still doesn't mean I know you. This is the first time I've ever met you in person, and I'll probably never talk to you again after this unless I end up in a bedroom with you again."

"Don't worry, you will. Most girls do," Andrew smirks, and I widen my eyes.

"Not like that!" I exclaim, looking at him and shaking my head rapidly. My cheeks are heating up again, and I tell them to stop. I can't start blushing every time he brings up sex. And looking at the type of person Andrew is, he'll probably bring it up in almost every conversation.

"You're so uptight. You need to relax—take life a little easy," Andrew says, and I look back down at the floor. There are a thousand thoughts running through my mind, but I can't tell any of them to him.

How can I tell him that I did take life easy? Until I couldn't anymore. Until that "easiness" was ripped rudely from my arms. How can I tell him that I can't relax anymore because if I relax, then I'll be letting my guard down, and if I do that, I'd end up losing someone else?

I can't be who I used to be. It's physically impossible, and this party's proved it. It's served to prove that I can never go back to a life like the one I used to live, and nothing is going to change that no matter how much I force myself.

I don't really have a response for him, so I just shrug.

"Why don't you look at people when you talk? You've just been staring at the floor most of the time. Do I really have that effect on you?" Andrew asks, and I turn around and look him straight in the eyes. Like I noticed earlier, they are hazel, but with little specks of gold and green, and they're like a kaleidoscope of emotions. They say the eyes are the door to someone's soul, and his soul looks like a swirl of emotions packed into one.

I know that there's more to him than I can see. Now that I'm looking more closely, I can tell that he's holding himself tightly and tensed, like someone's going to come up to him and attack him at any moment. I'd assumed that he was easy going, but there are hard lines on his face, and he's tightening his jaw more than necessary.

He's hiding himself behind that easygoing façade. But I know that if I spend time digging deep about what happened, it's just going to make things harder for me, and that's the last thing I want.

"Why did you move here? It's a really crappy place," Andrew asks.

I take a deep breath and recite the answer that I practiced, saying it the same way I said it to Zara. "My mom's boss transferred her over here."

"Really? Why would he transfer her here? The only industry here is agriculture," Andrew asks, and I widen my eyes, looking past him at the window as I try to think of some kind of excuse. We didn't rehearse this. Allison, Kira, and I didn't expect more questions.

"Well, he didn't transfer her here exactly. Her job is closer to here than it was back where we moved from," I lie, and then suddenly, I feel guilty again.

Both Allison and Kira have to drive two hours to get to work and then another two hours to get back... all because of me. Because I couldn't hold out for one more year.

There was no job transfer. Just my sensitivity.

"Really?" Andrew asks dubiously.

"Why do you care? You don't even know me. You probably don't even know my name, and you probably didn't even know I existed before today," I say, mimicking his tone from earlier. I need him to stop asking questions that I can't bullshit my way through. At one point or another, I'm going to slip up.

"Fine, let's introduce ourselves. I'm Andrew Addington as you probably already know. I'm a senior, and now that I think about it, you're in my English class, and I just realized because I barely pay attention in that class," Andrew explains. "I'm going to turn eighteen on January second, and my favorite color is orange. Your turn."

"That still doesn't explain why you care," I mutter under my breath, and Andrew looks at me expectantly.

"You never told me why you care if I'm drunk or not. So just answer the question," Andrew says.

"Fine. I'm Lexi Sherwin, and I'm a senior. Um... I didn't know you're in my English class, but I don't know anyone in that class. I'm going to be eighteen in April, and um... my favorite color is..." I trail off when I realize with a start that I've never thought about something as simple as my favorite color.

I look around the room, but everything is plain colored. I look down at what I'm wearing, but it's just a white top and gray jeans, so I look at Andrew's shirt, and it's a dark red, so that's what I pick.

"Red. Dark red," I finish, and Andrew nods, a knowing smile on his face.

"Are you sure that it's not because I'm wearing a red shirt?" Andrew asks and I quickly shake my head.

"What, no! Can't I like dark red without a reason?" I say, on the offensive again. "Fine, what about blue. I like blue."

"No, I'm glad I influence your favorite color," Andrew says.

"Again, you don't even know me!" I say. "How can you even influence my favorite color?"

"Jeez, calm down," Andrew says, widening his eyes at me, and I instantly look away from him in embarrassment.

"Sorry," I mutter shamefully. I don't like the idea of Andrew thinking I like him. One, because I don't want him to think I want to sleep with him or anything, which would just complicate matters for me. After what happened with René... I don't know who to trust anymore. Andrew hasn't done anything since I've been here with him, but I still have my guard up. And I don't mean to sound conceited, but I don't need to develop feelings for anyone and I don't need them to develop feelings for me. It's just too complicated.

"No, you don't need to feel bad or anything," Andrew says, and his tone shifts from a teasing tone to a warmer one, like he feels bad for his previous comment.

I don't need him to feel bad because of me; I don't need anyone to feel bad because of me. I don't want to hurt other people.

"It's fine," I mutter.

"Here," Andrew says, sticking out his hand for me to shake. I stick my hand out uncertainly and then slip it into his. His hand is a lot bigger than mine, and I'm pretty sure he'd tower over me if we were both standing up. It feels warm and comfortable, and I kind of want to leave my hand there. Of course, he eventually pulls away. "Nice to meet you Lexi Sherwin. I have to go now. My idiotic friend's ready to take me home," Andrew explains, pulling out his phone, looking at it, and then looking back at me. He stands up from where he was sitting on the bed and gives me a small smile.

"I guess I'll see you later in English?" Andrew asks and I nod. My phone pings in my pocket too, and I pull it out. Zara's texting me, telling me her parents are asking her to come home, and she's asking if I'm okay with leaving. I text back yes, and take a deep breath before leaving the room a few minutes after Andrew.

I barely know the guy, but as I find Zara and the two of make our ways to her car, I can't help but think about his eyes. Plain at first sight, but with a lot more hidden underneath once you look closer. It makes me curious, but I know I can't risk it. I can't risk ruining things for me again.