i went to the party.

i didn't tell caysie, didn't tell anyone. i just went. i didn't know why. closure, torture. it was all the same now.

i saw him, as soon i stepped inside peter klein's house, i saw him. his caramel hair and blue, blue eyes. he was with his friends, all of them drinking from red plastic cups, and heather – heather was nowhere in sight.

a rush of panic swept over me as it finally hit me, the smell of alcohol and cheap perfume and vomit, and my vision blurred. what the hell was i doing ?

my breaths came too quickly as i stumbled back outside, gasping in the cold night air, and shakily sat on the edge of the porch. jesus. jesus.

for a long time, i could only sit there, motionless.

and then he came outside.

harlow shoved through the door, stumbling ; his face was bright red, his eyes glassy. clearly drunk.

in my surprise, the only thing i could think to blurt out was his name – harlow – before quickly standing. what the hell – where the hell are you going ?

going home, he said, his words slurring together. going –

his knees buckled.

shit.

i quickly lunged forward and grabbed him just before he hit the ground. harlow – harlow, you can't. you can't go home like this. where's heather ? where's your scooter ? but even if i was the one driving, we couldn't take his vespa home. i couldn't ride, and he couldn't stay on the seat in his state. shit, shit, shit.

didn't . . . take my vespa, he managed. black rover. in the back.

christ. i slung his arm around my shoulders and began to drag him toward the car. how much did you drink ?

he gave a delirious laugh. too much, too much . . . corlan . . . the stars look so pretty . . .

hell.

i dragged him to the back of the house and took his keys from his pocket, unlocking the rover before shoving him into the passenger seat. i buckled the seat belt to make sure he didn't sway over before walking to the other side of the car.

harlow blinked sluggishly as i slid into the driver's seat. my house, it's . . .

i know where your house is.

you do, he said, and gave another drunken laugh. you do, of course you do. i'm dumb, corlan, i'm . . . he stopped and looked at me with those blue, blue eyes. corlan ?

i paused, the engine already running, my hands on the steering wheel. we need to get you home, harlow –

he kissed me.

he just leaned forward and then he was kissing me, his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, and it was exactly like i remembered, that breathless and beautiful rush, and for a moment too long, i was lost ; i could only kiss him back, his caramel hair soft and fine between my fingers, and he tasted like he always had, spice and cinnamon ; but there was something else too, something that finally jerked me back into reality.

alcohol – he tasted like alcohol.

i quickly pulled back, my breaths coming in short pants. shit. shit, shit, shit.

for a while, i couldn't move. i could only sit there and stare at my shaking hands, my head spinning.

corlan, harlow whispered, and i couldn't help but look back at him. his blue, blue eyes had briefly cleared, and they were wide, with panic or amazement or shock, i couldn't tell. corlan, i –

we need to get you home, was all i said, fighting to keep my voice steady, my heartbeat steady, as i eased onto the gas pedal, all too ready to leave. leave this party, leave this car, leave whatever had just happened between me and harlow behind.

corlan, harlow said again, but i ignored him ; i couldn't look at him now.

i doubted i'd ever be able to again.