Chapter 6

The basement was even more crowded than the kitchen, but Casey and I managed to find a sliver of space on a black leather couch. There had been several bottles of tonic water on the counter, but instead of a mixed drink, she cradled an entire bottle of whipped-cream vodka between her polished fingertips.

"Don't you just love high school?" She took a swig from the bottle before grabbing the cup of beer in my hand and drinking from it as if it were the lone water supply within a fifty-mile radius.

I looked away from the couple in front of us going at it on the designated dance floor. "Yeah, I love spending my Friday nights watching people fornicate."

"Oh my god, Trey's here." She flattened her already-smooth hair and sat up straighter. The name was familiar, and if I recalled correctly, Casey had made out with him sometime in the last month. I followed her heated gaze to a big blond guy leaning against the opposite wall, and when our eyes met, his eyebrows shot up as if I'd done something to impress him.

"He is so freaking hot."

But he wasn't looking at Casey. His eyes swept over me, and then, out of nowhere, he nodded as though I'd asked him a goddamn question.

Scott and Margo descended the basement stairs, momentarily distracting me. Scott's arms were outstretched on either side of him, as if he were a king gracing us with his presence, while Margo forced clingy laughter from behind him.

Not one to hesitate, I launched forward. "I'll be back."

"What? Alice? Where are you going?" Casey tried to grasp my arm, but her fingernails were futile.

"Bathroom." I disappeared into the crowd before she could offer her company. I scrambled upstairs and shoved my way through the mob of people. I tried the first-floor bathroom, but the door was locked, and the only place to wait was in the flow of traffic. Abandoning my post, I headed to the foyer, then hesitated for a moment before climbing the twisting marble staircase to the second floor instead.

There was a bathroom at the top of the stairs, but instead of going in, I pushed open the door beside it and peered into a large guest bedroom. I'm not sure how long I stood there, but eventually I heard my name, and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

I whirled around and spotted the shoes first. I wasn't sure if I was relieved, panicked, or both.

Hunter Thomas stood three feet away from me with an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, staring at me as if it were his first time ever seeing me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he burst out, but it wasn't in his usual irritated tone. Hunter was truly shocked to see me.

"Um, well, I don't know if you know this or not, but there is actually a raging party going on one floor below you."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I see you brought your sarcasm."

"Never leave home without it."

He twirled the cigarette with his tongue as he inspected my face, then plucked it from his mouth and tucked it in his back pocket without saying a word.

I rocked forward on the balls of my feet. "So, uh, you live here, huh?"

"That is an astute observation."

"Ahhh, sarcasm ..."

He smirked. "I guess you're rubbing off on me."

I didn't say anything, because his voice had adopted a flirtatiousness I didn't know what to do with.

"It's not as great as you think, I assure you," he said.

I shrugged. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I know you have to maintain the whole damaged badass fa?ade at school."

His laughter was sharp. He leaned toward me with a secretive smile. "Rich kids are always damaged."

"That should be the tagline for the next beachy soap opera on the CW."

He grinned. "I'd watch it."

"Now, that I can't picture."

"Yeah, well, I can't picture you attending a rager with all those half-wits, and yet here you are, standing just outside my bedroom door."

I shifted at the mention of his bedroom in such close proximity. I itched to peek inside it. Did he make his bed? Did he have posters taped to his wall? I ticked through my mental list as if it was a meditation technique: Hunter had a rich dad and a dick stepbrother, he liked smoking cigarettes and black clothing, and for some reason, he'd tried to kill himself. I could barely fill a Post-it Note with the things I knew about him, and I hated that all of it was public knowledge.

"Um, don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?" His eyebrows furrowed as he peeked into the room I stood outside of.

I tried to keep the defensiveness out of my voice. "I'm at the party—"

"No, I mean, up here?"

I glanced around the deserted hallway, at a complete loss. "I ... um ... I was looking for a bathroom."

He pressed his lips together, suppressing an obvious smile. "There's about four downstairs."

"Yeah, well, they were all occupied, okay?"

"Okay. You're off by one door, though." He stepped back and pointed to the bathroom two feet away. "Usually the toilet gives it away, but other people's houses sure can be confusing sometimes."

"The door was closed when I came up here," I snapped, and he smirked.

The conversation seemed over, but he didn't move until we were interrupted by a high-pitched voice calling his name. A head of bright pink hair poked out of a room a few doors down. I'd never seen her before, but I felt as if I knew her. I stared, unable to look away.

"Hunter, can you get a blanket too?" she asked, pulling a dark blue comforter tighter around her shoulders. "Your room is cold as shit, and your comforter doesn't have nearly enough weight."

For one moment, my breathing stopped altogether. She returned my inspection, and her eyes narrowed into slits.

I guess I'd never know if Hunter made his bed, because Hunter's bed was wrapped around her.

"Yeah, I'll be right there." His voice was filled with indifference. I could feel his gaze on me, uninterrupted by the request, but I was too embarrassed to meet it.

"I should go," I said and took off, almost running toward the stairs.

"Alice!" he called after me.

I stopped and turned to him. I thought he might tell me it wasn't what it looked like or admit something raw and honest, but he smirked again as he refitted his cigarette between his lips.

"I thought you were looking for the bathroom."