Towering over the narrow sidewalk that cuts through the front yard, Casey's house sits amongst the vast darkness surrounding it. It's nearly pitch black outside, the only glare illuminating from the street lamps as well as a bright light flashing against the heavy drapes covering the windows from inside her living room.

Glass shatters as something breaks on the floor of her kitchen. A blood curling, high-pitched scream comes from inside—so loud it nearly echoes down the street. The back door kicks open, the girl continuing to scream as her boyfriend carries her through the doorway and onto the back patio. He is barely able to hear her over the music blasting from inside the house, the bass set so high the windows are rattling with the slightest rhythm. "Put me down!"

2 YEARS AGO

He lowers her to her bare feet, her shoes somehow missing, before shoving her against the wooden railing. Turned on by their unrestrained play, she pulls him for a sloppy kiss as two guys around the same age walk past. One seems a little too interested in their affair, the other disgusted, as the two cut through the yard to join a small crowd of people in what is apparently the designated smoking area. And not just for cigarettes.

"KEEP IT DOWN!" Peyton growls from her open doorway, barely able to see over the balcony at the drunken horde that swarms the den. She slams her door shut, retreating to her room. She jumps face down onto her bed, pulling a pillow around the back of her head to cover her ears in an attempt to muffle out the noise. "Ugh!"

Downstairs, Casey shoves through an arguing couple as she tries to follow the sound of the broken glass. By her expression, it's obvious that she is beyond frustrated and, by this point, she is two seconds away from abandoning her own house. Clearly this party wasn't her idea.

A few minutes in, she gives up finding the source of the sound and—after throwing a group of potheads out of her father's study—she spots Morgan from the living room. In the kitchen, she can see him standing in front of a beer pong table set up past the bar. Across from his side of the table stand Cesar and Julia. Apparent by her staggering state, Julia is plastered as usual.

"Morgan!" Casey hollers as she squeezes through the crowd, not surprised that he can't hear her over the deafening commotion surrounding them. She looks down at a passed out teenager, recognizing the boy from her biology class last semester as he is sprawled out on the floor next to the loveseat, and ignores the permanent marker doodles marking the majority of his face. Sighing, she steps over him and finally manages to reach the kitchen.

Morgan finishes chugging what is left of his beer and slams the empty red cup on the table, smashing it into a wad of plastic with his palm. He turns around, immediately planting a kiss on Casey's lips. She stumbles back as she wipes at her mouth, not too fond of the taste of secondhand booze.

He belches. "Hey babe."

"Why are there so many people here?!" Casey says, a mixture of agitation and worry in her voice. "You said a small get together!"

Continuing the game, Cesar aims the ping pong ball at one of the few cups on the far side of the table. Not noticing, or caring really, Morgan snatches the cup just as he tosses the ball. It bounces from the table and onto the floor, vanishing past the shuffling feet of their peers as it rolls away.

"Damnit. That was the last one!" Cesar sighs, referring to the beer pong balls as they had somehow managed to already lose the other five that came in the package. Julia watches as he crouches, shoving past people as he desperately scans the floor for it.

Morgan's words are slurred. Obviously he has had far too much to drink as well. He keeps his buzz going as he takes a sip from the cup. "Oh, calm down. Since when do you not like a good party?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Since my little sister is trying to sleep upstairs and my parents are on their way home!" Her eyes widen, not believing his stupidity. However, at the same time, she finds herself not at all surprised. "What the hell, Morgan?!"

Amused, Julia takes a small sip from her wine cooler as she watches them. All she's missing is popcorn.

"Relax. We'll wrap it up soon." He says with a crooked smile. For some reason, Casey finds that hard to believe. Shrugging her off, he turns back to the table as he takes another drink. His objective at this point must be to lose, as the majority of the missing cups on his side of the table are due to his thirst. Grunting, he sees Cesar on the other side of the kitchen as he fishes for the ball that apparently rolled behind the trashcan. "Hurry up, man!"

Sighing, Casey runs her hands through her hair as she gazes around the room. Her eyes lock onto two jocks raiding her refrigerator and she hurriedly walks their direction. "Hey!"

Leaning against the counter, Riley watches her as he drinks from a bottle of water. Although he heard the bickering between the couple, he was conflicted as he didn't want to stir up more drama by stepping into business that wasn't his. From the looks of it, Casey was already having a lousy night and he didn't want to make things even worse by escalating the situation.

Just short of an hour later, Casey stands in the kitchen after she had cut off the music and kicked everyone out. She glances around in disbelief at the destroyed house—empty plastic cups and trash is scattered across the floor of the kitchen, leading all the way to the living room. She looks through the opening in the wall above the bar, seeing Morgan passed out face down on the couch. Next to his limp arm lies a bucket she had placed in case he woke up feeling nauseous, which is likely to happen considering the amount of alcohol he consumed. The place is already a disaster and she'd rather not be spending an additional twenty minutes scrubbing vomit out of the carpet.

In an attempt to calm her nerves, she sips from a full cup of cranberry vodka that somebody had left unattended on the bar. Although a little watered-down, she continues to drink it as she walks around the kitchen and fills up another trash bag.

She hears sudden movement behind her. "Party's over. Time to—"

As she turns around, she is surprised to see Riley walking from the hallway holding a half-full trash bag of his own. He picks up more garbage from the floor, shoving it into the bag. "Looks like you can use some help."

"I got it." She catches herself, realizing her tone sounds a little harsh. If she should be upset with anyone, it should be Morgan. Not him. "Thank you though."

He lowers the trash bag and looks around the kitchen. "You sure? Looks like a tornado swept through here. A few times."

"I know." She looks around, sighing heavily. "Sadly, I've seen worse."

As he approaches her, he glimpses over at a still knocked-out Morgan. "Must come with the territory, huh?"

She follows his gaze, although already knowing what he's looking at. "Yeah."

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" He asks curiously. Aware that she is an intelligent girl, not to mention extremely beautiful, it was always a shock to him that—out of all people—she would date a guy so insensitive.

"Like what?"

"Like an object."

"To be honest, I've kinda gotten used to it by now." She realizes that the vodka has hit her harder than she expected and, in her newly buzzed state, she may be speaking too honest. Embarrassed, her palm lightly smacks her face. "God, I must sound pathetic."

Without hesitation, he responds. His tone is nothing but serious. "You're not pathetic. It's just—you can do better."

She glances back to Morgan, knowing that what he is saying is true. Unsure of Riley's true intention behind his words, she turns to face him. "Why are you telling me this? He's your friend."

"So are you." Riley says with a smile, although really he has wanted to be more than friends for some time now. She just hasn't noticed and it's probably because he's too scared to act upon his feelings. "He's not the guy for you, Casey."

Laughing, she looks back at the floor as she continues to clean. Tainted by a past of destructive relationships, she can't possibly see herself in a steady romance. "Yeah well... when you find the guy that is, please feel free to let me know."

Staring at her, Riley watches as she steps out of the kitchen to pick up the seemingly endless scattered bottle caps and plastic cups off of the floor. He wishes it was that easy to just let her know.

PRESENT DAY

Thinking back to that night, Riley stares at the leather box that he clenches with his right fist. His arms are propped up on his knees as he leans against the wall his bed is shoved up against, feeling as if the box is mocking him for missing so many chances.

Part of him regrets not acting on his feelings that night, but on the other hand if he had maybe things would have ended up significantly different. But would he really want that? Making a premature move on Casey while she was in a relationship with his best friend, that would have been a bold move—and also a mistake. He knows Casey. She would never cheat on her partner, regardless of whether or not he treated her awful, and he thinks of how poorly it would have reflected on him if he had attempted to tell her how he felt.

The fact was that Morgan beat him to it. He had the courage to ask Casey out, which Riley couldn't seem to muster until months after Morgan and Casey's relationship imploded. Although not normally shy, when it comes to her it is as if Riley's confidence seems to fade away.

As the sun sets, an orange radiant glare illuminates from the open blinds on the window across from his bed. Blinking, he breaks his stare and gazes up from the box to look down at what's left of his dresser mirror shattered on the floor. He can see the sun reflecting on many of the shards, its glimmer calmly dimming with each second as it drops past the horizon.

His grip on the small case tightens as he thinks back to other missed opportunities he had encountered in the past with Casey, the wonder of where they could have possibly led had he taken them lingering in the back of his mind. With everything going on, he is coming to the harsh realization that life is not a guarantee—it can be cut short at any moment.

Maybe it's time to stop playing it safe.

Riley snatches his car keys from the nearby nightstand as he jumps up from the mattress. Turning around, he grabs his coat from the foot of the bed and tosses it on as he steps over the broken glass to quickly approach the bedroom door. He buries the leather box into his left jacket pocket, protectively keeping his hand shoved up against it as he leaves the house and heads to his car.

Condensation fogs up the inside of the windshield, as well as the door windows, and he unlocks the driver's door and hurriedly climbs inside. He slams the door shut, wiping at the window to get a clearer view of the street. He places the keys in the ignition but finds himself pausing, feeling the anxiety kicking in.

Staring forward, Riley takes a deep breath to regain control of himself. He twists the key in the ignition, the engine humming as the headlights flicker on. Without further hesitation, he shifts the gear into drive with one hand as he twists the steering wheel with the other.

♫ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴅᴇsᴘᴀɪʀ / ᴄʜᴇʀ ʟʟᴏʏᴅ ♫