By Saturday morning my muscles ached, my stress levels were at an unhealthy level, and my mental capacity for airhead athletes had been exhausted. School, cheer practice, and working at the diner after school was a lot, and I'd forgotten how few hours were actually in a day.

It was nine in the morning and I'd showered, dressed, and made a coffee, all thanks to Gabby, who'd arrived in my bedroom at an ungodly hour of the morning, running on the energy of some otherworldly source. She and Nathan sat beside each other on the living-room side of the breakfast bar, sharing the Denver Post—Nathan was immersed in the sports section— while I stood in front of the sink and attempted to wake up with the aid of caffeine.

"What are you girls doing today?" Nathan asked.

"We're going shopping." Gabby turned the page, no doubt in search of local pop-up bookstores, and earned a curt glance from Nathan. She gave me a questioning look—she wasn't sure whether or not to add that we were shopping for outfits for that night.

"We're going into Cripple Creek tonight." I sipped the coffee. "What are you doing?"

"The club opening for kids?" He sounded like an old man disapproving of the wild youth.

"Yes. It's called Illusion." I turned to the kitchen window and watched the neighbor's kids bike up and down the road. Hattie, an elderly woman who worked at the diner with me, was across the street watering the dry strip of grass in front of her pavement. Basically, I was avoiding the stare from Nathan that was practically burning a hole in the side of my head.

"How are you getting there?"

"We're taking the bus," Gabby said casually.

"The bus?" Nathan looked between the two of us as though we'd lost it. "No way, you can't take the bus at night. I'll drive."

"Nathan, it's an hour and a half out of town. The bus will be fine." I rinsed my cup and walked toward the breakfast bar, leaning on it with flat hands. "We're getting an Uber home."

"Shut up." He stood and pointed an authoritative finger at me. "I'll drive because you obviously want to drink before you go. And that's fine, but be careful. Real careful. Get an Uber home, whatever. But no bus. Weirdos live on that bus at night. It's not safe."

"All right." I smiled and wrapped my long hair into a top-knot. "Thanks."

"I've got to go." He marched over to the front door and

plucked the keys from their hook. "I've got practice as usual and then a date tonight. I'll be back later to give you a ride before I go out."

Nathan and I shared our little Toyota Corolla. I used it for school and work. He carpooled during the week and then had it the rest of the time because I was either with Gabby or at home. It worked for us. He was relieved when we got it back from the shop two days ago, just in time for his weekend.

***

Later that afternoon, Gabby and I returned home with a new outfit each, excitement about the evening ahead, and an UberX booked for two in the morning. I hoped that the night wouldn't be a dive, and we wouldn't want to leave earlier.

Gabby and I lounged around the house for a few hours, having something to eat and drinking a few beers before getting ready. The kitchen was a mess after I made two enormous BLTs.

"If I eat these carbs,"—Gabby pointed an aggressive finger at the sandwich—"I'm going to bloat. The dress that I'm wearing is tight. That's a problem."

"Eat it, Gabs. Or we're not going."

"You sound like my mother."

I laughed and bit into my own sandwich. "That's an unhealthy mindset. Eat the BLT."

Whenever she went out on an empty stomach, Gabby turned into a class A booze bunny and got drunk faster than the alcoholic aunt at an open-bar wedding. Despite her protests, she ate because she knew that I was right.

While I cleaned up the kitchen, we chatted about school and our classes, and the miserable teachers we loathed and the brilliant ones that we loved. Neither of us had much love for math. Chemistry and biology could be fun on the odd occasion that we did practicals rather than bookwork. Gabby loved English. It was her favorite subject. It was my weakest one, and I'd talked her into doing my reading responses on more than one occasion because of the simple fact that she'd pick up a book and read it without even knowing what it was about. She had a major chip on her shoulder about the fact that she wasn't in economics with Drayton and me, though. Who knew what she thought she was missing.

"In econ you get to sit in class with him and stare at him and—"

"That looks amazing," I said, breaking in.

She wore a dark-green body-con dress, and I was attempting to distract her. Her warm brown skin had seen the sun over summer and her tan had given her an extra bronze glow that looked exceptional with her dress. Her figure was incredible—long legs and a slender frame. I don't think she realized how envious I was of her natural dancer's body. I was comfortable with the curves that God gave me but I wouldn't have objected to a little more height. I was about half a head shorter than Gabrielle, and that was when she wasn't wearing heels.

"Thanks!" she gushed, flattening the front of the dress in the mirror that hung on the inside of the closet door.

She popped in her contacts and ditched her glasses for the night. My little wireless speaker blasted "Youngblood" by 5 Seconds of Summer while we made up our faces in separate mirrors. Gabby sat in front of the closet door while I sat with a compact on the double bed. We sang loudly and swung our hips back and forth to the beat after we finished our makeup. It took me a fraction longer to get ready, because when I heard music, I let it carry me, moving my limbs with the beat and feeling the rhythm. There was no greater feeling than dancing as the rest of the world fell away.

"I don't know why you're so against clubbing," Gabby said as she slid into her strappy heels. "You love to dance."

"I'm not against clubbing," I told her and found my own pair of velvet black platforms. "I'm more against the sweaty, drunk, messy sea of bodies that gyrate all over you."

I took one final look in the mirror. My dress was a little shorter than Gabby's. It was a rose-gold color with a plunging neckline and pinched waist. The material was velvet and flattering. My sun- kissed tan gave me warmth where I'd usually be a little paler. I felt good, which was a promising sign, and I found myself smiling as I heard Nathan call from the living room. My long blonde hair cascaded in soft curls down my back, my eyelids were winged with a soft sprinkle of bronze shadow, and a nude lip finished off my look.

"All right, let's go."

***

Illusion was exactly as I'd expected it to be. When we finally made it in after standing in the line for about an hour, we entered to find a nightlife atmosphere, dark and loud with artificial smoke floating through the air, with bright flashing lights casting down from the ceiling to illuminate the large crowd in the middle of the floor. The space was huge, and about ten feet up the sides of the walls were platforms where more people were dancing, some spraying water from plastic guns down into the mass of bodies. The stage at the back of the room housed more dancers and a huge DJ booth with an enthusiastic girl inside it, pumping up the entire crowd.

"This place is awesome." Gabby gripped my arm with excitement, shouting over the Calvin Harris remix blasting so loudly I could feel my skin rippling.

She was drunk. I was drunk. We'd subtly shared a bottle of bourbon in the backseat of the car for the hour and a half it took Nathan to drive us here. It was one that I'd hidden under the seat since Nathan's twenty-fifth birthday at the beginning of July.

"It's pretty great," I shouted.

Suddenly, a tall, dark stranger appeared in front of us. He had shoulder-length hair in a half-up, half-down bun, a lanky figure, and sharp features. His eyes focused on Gabby as he leaned in with excitement.

"Gabby Laurel?"

"Yes! Tim, right? I haven't seen you in forever!" Gabby turned to me and shouted next to my ear, "Tim was my Spanish tutor at school a few years ago. He was a senior."

Now that she mentioned it, and I took a closer look, I realized that he did look familiar. He'd aged and now had longer hair and piercings in his lip, brow, and nose. He was cute, I supposed, and I didn't miss the googly gaze that Gabby was giving him.

He subtly pulled a flask out of his pants pocket and grinned. "Do you guys want a drink?"

"Yes—" Gabby said.

"No," I answered at the same time. "Don't be dumb." I nudged her and felt frustrated that I even had to tell her what the issue was with accepting a drink that was already open from a quasi stranger at a bar.

Gabby hesitated for a moment and stumbled as a group of girls pushed past us. Tim caught her around the waist.

"She's had enough. We both have," I said.

"Yeah," Gabby giggled, wrapping her hands around Tim's neck. "We could dance, though?"

"Love to." He nodded.

"Come on."

Gabby reached out and grabbed my hand, and I followed them, more than happy to assist her in getting there with a cute dude—just as long as she was safe about it. I felt like a bit of a third wheel from the heat radiating between the two of them as they ground against each other as we danced. Still, I was drunk enough to mask the bother. And the dance floor was so packed that no one would know I was alone. There were bodies all around me, hair whipping from all directions, heels occasionally stabbing my feet, and sweaty arms rubbing against mine.

Suddenly, when my hands were in the air and I was swinging my hips, a familiar, gorgeous, deep voice cut through the loud music, and I felt my mood plummet.

"Hey, Cheer."

I turned around and came face to face with Drayton, looking spectacularly gorgeous in a pair of black jeans and a casual white V-neck T-shirt that showed off his sleeve tattoo and taut biceps, not to mention the arm veins. Oh Lord, the arm veins.

"Why can't you leave me alone?" I asked.

"This is my friend, Josh." He ignored what I said and pointed at the plastered guy—or I assumed he was drunk from the way he swayed and the fact that his eyes couldn't focus—standing next to him. He was a little shorter than Drayton—still tall, just shorter. He had a nice slim, toned build and slicked-back dark- blond hair.

"Hey, Josh." I smiled as Tim's arm suddenly came around in front of my face, offering the flask again. I shook my head and pushed his arm back behind me, all the while watching Drayton give him a hateful scowl over my shoulder. I turned to Josh and smiled. "Look, if you're anything like Drayton, then I have nothing to say to you. But if you're a decent person, then it's a pleasure."

Josh slowly nodded with uncertainty as Drayton rolled his eyes. "Ignore her," he told him, his devastating gaze piercing me. "She's kind of unreasonable and rude."

"Excuse me? You are ruining my night."

It was no secret that alcohol could often have quite a negative effect on me. I'd been known to get irrational, unreasonable— as Drayton so bluntly implied—and rather difficult. I shouted. Got mad. I knew it. But I couldn't stop it. He riled me up so damn much.

"I'm going to dance," I shouted again and ignored how his gaze settled on my chest before casting down to my legs. He wasn't subtle in the slightest, and I hated how it made me feel. "You need to leave me alone. Because you're two-faced, and I have no tolerance tonight. Screw you and piss off."

I turned around and had the pleasure of an immediate distraction because Tim and Gabby had their tongues halfway down each other's throats. Good for her. She deserved to have some fun. I peeped over my shoulder as I began to dance and noticed that Drayton had disappeared. It wasn't like I wanted him to hang around. Because I didn't—at all.

Two hours later, I winced at the guy who had been dancing on me for the last half-hour. He was great to begin with, cute smile, great hair, nice arms, until I noticed he smelled like urine. I'd been hoping that it was someone else. But it was him. For sure. I spotted Gabby and Tim beside the water station, still swapping spit.

I leaned in to Stank, whose name I didn't know, and attempted not to inhale. "I'm going to . . . not dance with you anymore." I didn't bother coming up with a tactful excuse because honestly, if this guy exercised so little personal hygiene that he smelled like a toilet bowl, then he didn't deserve tact.

Pushing through the crowd of bodies, I was covered in other people's sweat. My feet were fine—I was used to being on them a lot. Albeit, I usually wore more comfortable shoes. But I was managing. Finally breaking out of the thick of the crowd, I noticed that the air was clearer, making me long for the actual outside.

Gabby managed to spot me coming toward her and dashed for me, leaving Tim leaning against the bar. The humid conditions had not been kind to her hair. It had grown twice in size and the curls had gone wild.

"Dallas." She bounce-slash-stumbled into my arms and giggled with excitement. "Would you hate it if I left with Tim?"

"Wha—oh. Um." I glanced behind her and squinted. The room was moving. For sure. "I guess not."

She squealed but it was blanketed by the thudding bass of the music.

"How though?" I stumbled and she stumbled, and we gripped each other's arms to stand upright. "He can't drive?"

"No." she smiled. "He has an Uber waiting. I'll still split our fare and give you my half. Would you care though?"

It was a huge wait until two; it was just midnight.

"I'll book another one. It'll be fine. Come on, I'll walk you out."

Outside on the crowded sidewalk, Gabby thanked me, and I snapped a picture of her and Tim getting into the Uber. Then I took a photo of the license plate and waved them off with a proud smile. I made Gabby promise to text me his address. She knew it from when he used to tutor her after school. I felt like she'd be fine, but I still told her to call me when she got there.

I inhaled the fresh, cool air. The sidewalks were packed with people rolling into one another. Saturday night in Cripple Creek was never quiet. Fifth Street was lined with casinos and bars as far as the eye could see. Older men and women were dressed up, smoking, laughing, shouting. The atmosphere was alive and exciting, but I was definitely ready for bed.

I slipped my phone out of my bra—which I knew was super dangerous, but where the hell else would I put it—and opened up Uber to book another ride. I was trying to stay steady and not bump into people until I collided with a tall, firm chest.

I stared up at Drayton as he dragged on a cigarette and said, "What now?"

"Where are you off to?"

"Wherever the hell I want," I snapped, and stepped around his stupid gorgeous frame. I was being so horrible, and I knew it. But I couldn't stop. He fell into step beside me, without the cigarette, hands in his pockets. "It's dangerous to walk alone at night."

He's right.

"Leave me alone," I mumbled, still struggling with the Uber app because I couldn't see straight. "Go and tend to whatever hopeless bimbo is waiting for your attention."

"Stop." He gripped my elbow and spun me around so that we were facing each other. I stared at his angry expression. He inhaled a deep breath, his eyes moving from one end of the road to the other before he looked down at me again. "Forget about what a dick I was. Put it aside for a minute and be reasonable. Let me drive you home? Please?"

"No. I don't get into cars with strangers."

I shrugged off his hold on my arm and continued walking, collecting a few shoulder bangs as I went. He shouted through the thrum of crowded chatter. "Fine! Have it your way."

He was so arrogant and smug and stupid and attractive. That was what made it so frustrating. He was so gorgeous, and as much as I wanted to slap his mouth whenever he said something stupid, I sort of wanted to kiss it too. I had never been so confused, and the thoughts continued to rile me up while I stared at the cracked and littered pavement beneath me.

That was when I noticed that the noise had died down. The streets were emptier. Almost deserted. How long had I been walking? Where was I? There were dark and vacant tall buildings, and now the lights of the casino strip were visible, but distant.

Suddenly, I was yanked into a hard body, a hand came across my mouth, and I was dragged toward a dark, narrow walkway. My blood ran cold and my heart beat so hard that it physically hurt. Rendered paralyzed, fear seized me until the adrenaline slowed enough for my instincts to kick in. Thrashing my body and kicking my legs out, I attempted to scream. It was no use; the sound was completely muffled and there was no one around. I couldn't break out of the iron hold, and we quickly disappeared out of the public view and into the narrow walkway. The buildings on either side weren't even apartments; they were industrial buildings that would be empty until the morning. No one would stumble across me, no one would hear me.

My front was pushed against the cold brick wall and tears streamed down my cheeks as I trembled with fear, desperately clutching at any bright idea that came to mind so I could avoid becoming another statistic.

A strong hand gripped my arm and whipped me around while managing to keep one hand over my mouth. My assailant pushed my back into the wall. My vision cleared, and I came face to face with Drayton, who was looking at me with unfathomable anger.

He let go of my mouth and I let out a loud, ragged exhale harsh with gurgling sobs as I clutched my chest and almost collapsed. I was now aware that I wasn't in immediate danger, but my shoulders rose and fell at a rapid pace in time with my labored breathing.

"What the actual fuck, Drayton?" I snapped, rubbing my cheeks with the palms of my hands. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Do you realize how easy that was for me!" he shouted, his body basically crushing mine against the wall. I could feel his hot breath fanning my face as he stared down at me with glowering fury.

"I don't think I need to explain how this could have ended if it hadn't been me," he said.

"You're an absolute idiot! You're the only predator out tonight!" I hissed, willing my voice to stop trembling so that I didn't sound so fragile.

"You think so?" He laughed, cold and harsh as he nodded toward the end of the alleyway. "Wait for it."

We waited for what seemed like forever, standing in silence with our bodies pressed against each other. My heart thumped at our close proximity, and I stole a quick glance at Drayton and noticed his expression morphing into frustration. He gestured at the entrance of the walkway and I watched a middle-aged man walk past. His beanie was tattered and stained a nicotine yellow. His oversized parka was covered in an array of holes and I couldn't help but feel a chill as he searched left and right. He couldn't see us, though, hidden in the confines of the pitch black.

"He was following you from the moment that you left the club," Drayton murmured, and I looked up to find him regarding me with a sickened expression. "I got in my car just to beat him here."

I swallowed hard as the extremity of the situation dawned on me. It might have been a very different outcome had Drayton not shown up, and I was undeniably grateful. I went up on my tiptoes and threw my arms around his neck. He stiffened for a moment but quickly wrapped his arms around my waist and tucked his face into my neck.

"Please, let me drive you home?" He leaned back, his hands remaining around my middle. Electricity surged through my body as his touch drowned out all coherent thought. All I could do was nod. A look of relief flashed across his face as he tucked me into his side and led us out of the alleyway.

"I called the cops and reported that guy for suspicious behavior," Drayton said. "Fucking sick."

The drive back to Castle Rock wasn't horrible. Drayton's Jeep was dark, with tinted windows, black leather seats, and lots of buttons on the dashboard. Drayton kept his hands wound tightly around the steering wheel, a look of rage still etched on his face. At first, neither of us said a word, but the silence was surprisingly not awkward.

"What's your brother doing tonight?" Drayton asked, his tone a bit more casual than his posture. We were passing all of the little stores that were close to home. The convenience store. The laundromat. The burger shack and diner.

"He's out for the night," I answered with a curious tone.

What's it to him?

He nodded and then indicated right instead of left at the next intersection that would have taken me home. "What are you doing? Where are we going?"

"My house."

"What? No! Drop me off at home," I said.

"No one's there to look after you," he said, the streetlights illuminating his flat stare.

"I don't need looking after," I snapped, growing frustrated.

I'd been thrilled on the drive home when I realized that I was safe and had saved a large Uber fare. "I am capable of looking after myself."

"Okay," he scoffed. "Is that why you've been swaying from side to side in that seat for the last hour and a half?"

"Drayton, take me home," I yelled, slamming a hand on the center console. "This is so stupid. No one's going to kidnap me in my own home. The only one doing that tonight seems to be you."

"Would you just shut up and let me look after you! Damn, Dallas, do you have to argue about everything?"

"Look after me?" I shouted, outraged at his logic even though he might have been right. "I'm not a fucking child."

"You're coming home with me. End of."