Chapter 7

Iweaved through the living room, searching the crowd for Margo and Casey. I tried to slide unnoticed between huddled groups of people, but the room was so crowded I was forced to push through the middle of conversations to get to the other end. The dirty looks and stale smell of sweat and beer-soaked carpet were bothersome but far less threatening than the number of places my body pressed into someone else.

The same few beats drummed through the house, growing louder and more urgent as I made it to the kitchen. I stood frozen in the doorway.

Margo and Casey grinded against each other on top of the kitchen island. At their feet were crowds of guys and a few disgruntled girls, all getting front-row seats to a perfect view up their skirts. Every few seconds, one of them would start to lose their balance, almost crashing off the counter. The nearest group of guys raised their hands in response as if readying to catch a fly ball at a baseball game.

Someone knocked into the back of me, and I jolted forward. "Aw, dude, I love drunk sluts."

The guy who said it was Josh. I knew him because he hung out with Scott, and his level of stupidity was something you remembered. He stood in front of me, and for a few glorious moments, I fantasized about wrapping my fingers around his thick neck like a feminist vigilante, but instead of playing out the fantasy, I retreated to the corner of the kitchen.

Brian and Jesse leaned against a section of the granite countertop. I wasn't friends with them exactly, but we were friendly, and that was the closest thing I had besides Margo and Casey.

Brian tilted his beer in my direction. "What's up, Alice?"

Brian's and my history wasn't an unkind one. In eighth grade, everyone decided we should date, so we did. He wore a T-shirt to school with a handwritten message on it in black permanent marker. Alice Matthews,it read, will you be my girlfriend? And I said yes because everyone was watching, and I didn't really have a reason to say no. We broke up the summer before freshman year, and it was as anticlimactic as my parents' divorce. He went to lacrosse camp, I spent my time at the pool and the mall, and that was about all that happened.

I hoisted myself onto the space of counter beside them. "Hey."

Jesse gestured at Margo and Casey on top of the island. "Looks like you have a long night ahead of you."

But I was distracted from responding when Hunter entered the kitchen with the pink-haired girl in tow. I held my breath as I watched him take in the scene. His eyes narrowed, and the pink-haired girl grabbed on to his shoulder. He leaned back as she whispered something in his ear with a wicked smile. He smirked in response to whatever she'd said, and I felt the same resentful nausea I'd had upstairs in the pit of my stomach. He wore a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, and I noticed the pink-haired girl wearing a similar one—too big and obviously his.

Hunter must have felt my stare, because his cool eyes flicked to my own, and he straightened up. His smirk fell away as he held my gaze. A moment later, Brian leaned toward me, ridiculing Margo's latest move, and Hunter's eyes flashed to inspect him. They stayed on Brian for several seconds, his mouth a thin, hard line, before he turned away. He glided across the kitchen and opened the back door, allowing the pink-haired girl to duck under his arm and walk out first. All I saw on the back porch was the growing and fading lights of two cigarettes before I reminded myself they could probably see me staring.

"Ho-LY shit."

Margo and Casey were pressed even closer together, their mouths working on each other as they full-on made out, earning them whooping and cheering from the crowd below. Margo ran her fingers through Casey's hair, and Casey pressed her palms into Margo's chest. Their kissing was so intense Casey started to fall backward, and they both slipped and flopped into a tangled mess on the counter. Unfazed by the fall, Margo flung herself on top of Casey, grinding her hips as she nipped and mauled at Casey's sprawled body.

Scott left his front-row seat and swung onto the counter. He grabbed Margo by the back of her head. She parted with Casey, and Scott swooped down on her, mashing his lips to hers. The whole crowd cheered while Scott dominated Margo, his every move powerful and primal. It was as if he was punishing her, showing the crowd who she belonged to. I could see his fingers yanking through her hair as he pulled her head back, and it looked painful. In fact, I knew it was, but she didn't stop him or cry out. No one stopped a force like that.

Casey inched herself to the edge of the counter, her face pink from the effort and drunkenness, and the blond guy from the basement muscled his way to receive her. As soon as he did, his large hand disappeared beneath her skirt, but she didn't swat at him. My cheeks flamed red, but I did what I did best and looked away.

Despite all the excitement, Jesse placed his empty beer can on the counter beside me. "We're probably up soon."

Brian nodded. "Right, yeah."

Jesse started to walk away, but Brian hesitated, glancing back at me. "We're signed up to play beer pong. Wanna come with? You can hang out."

I shrugged. "I think I might get going soon, but thanks."

His eyebrows furrowed, and it wasn't the first time Brian Cullen couldn't make any sense of me. "All right. Well, I guess I'll see you later."

I nodded, smiling back. As he walked away, I pulled out my phone and typed out a desperate message to Chris, but I was interrupted before I could press send.

"So you're still here." I wasn't sure when Hunter had come back in, but there he was, standing in front of me as though he was just another person attending the party.

I returned my gaze to my phone. "Evidently."

His lips twitched, but he didn't smile. "Having fun yet?"

"Does it look like it?"

"Not exactly, but you rarely look like you're having any fun."

He was smiling now, and I was tempted to roll my eyes. I'd attended the party in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him or having a conversation, but since stalking him upstairs, all my curiosity had settled into discomfort. Why did I even care in the first place? There had to be other people at our school who felt gripping sadness. And if I was just curious about Hunter's suicide attempt, why did his closeness with the pink-haired girl make me feel as if I had a tumorous growth deep in my stomach, rock hard and spreading?

She stood across the kitchen, her head tilted to one side as she watched us. She wore dark black makeup, thick and smoky around her eyes. Her pink hair was styled in a sloppy ponytail, all the short ends pinned up at random with mismatching clips. She had small pouty lips with a ring pierced through one end and the sort of smile that was both taunting and alluring. She was the exact kind of girl someone like Hunter would be with, and my hatred was both instant and alarming.

"I think your girlfriend is waiting for you."

He tried to stonewall his smile again, but it was still there. "She's not my girlfriend."

I unlocked my phone. "Okay."

Instead of leaving, he settled into the space beside me. "Your friends are here a lot, but you never come."

My pulse quickened. "You usually attend these things?"

"I try not to, but as we established earlier, I do live here."

I let out a hollow laugh but shoved the edge of my sweater between my teeth to quell it. Hunter grinned. When I looked away, my gaze collided with Scott's. He glared at us, standing a few feet from the pink-haired girl with Margo discarded beside him.

Hunter followed my gaze. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

My eyes stayed trained on Scott, afraid he might move without warning. "What's it like to live with him?"

Hunter snorted. "Um, terrible."

Hunter leaned against the counter, his elbow resting mere inches from my thigh. I wasn't the only person who noticed the space between us, and Scott's nostrils flared.

I'd never pictured Hunter and Scott sitting around playing family board games on a Sunday night, but it was obvious from both their stances and expressions that their relationship surpassed dislike and went well beyond hatred.

"Have you always hated each other?"

Hunter shifted into a position of comfort, his elbow moving half an inch closer, but unlike Scott and me, he didn't appear to notice our closeness. "Hate is an egregious understatement."

"Why?"

He stiffened. "What do you mean why?"

I shrugged. "Why do you hate him so much?"

Hunter's head jerked upright, as if we might not be on the same page after all. "Because he's a massive dick, obviously."

Before I could offer my agreement, the massive dick in question barreled toward us. "What the fuck are you doing down here? It's invite only."

But Hunter continued lounging against the counter. It almost looked as if he was enjoying himself. He let out a dramatic sigh as he examined something insignificant on his sweatshirt. "Would you fuck off already?"

Undeterred, Scott redirected his attention to me. "Why don't you come downstairs, Alice? Margo has proven to be lame as fuck, and I'm on the market for a new beer pong partner. Who knows, maybe people will even stop thinking you're so boring if you try and have a little fun."

I redrafted my text to Chris and pressed send. "Tempting."

When I lifted my head, Hunter was no longer leaning beside me. "Leave her alone."

Scott beamed. "Oooh, touchy."

"I think I'd better go," I said, hopping off the counter.

Hunter's shoulders were stiff. "Yeah, that'd probably be best."

Scott grinned. "Really? I think there's potential here for a truly fun evening."

I was a few steps from the counter when Scott gripped my wrist tightly and yanked me backward. "Come on, Ali—"

But Hunter shoved Scott away with such sudden force that I yelped. There was a brief commotion before Hunter had Scott by the collar and slammed him against the wall. With one hand holding Scott's shirt, Hunter pressed his forearm into his neck without any hesitation. Scott sputtered for breath, his bloodshot eyes popping out of his head. His face turned a fierce shade of red, and I became more and more horrified when Hunter made no move to stop. But then, just like that, Hunter released Scott, who folded to the floor, gasping for air.

Scott lay slumped at my feet, and I stared at him in awe as he tried to catch his breath. "Was that ... was that necessary?" I said.

Hunter straightened the neckline of his sweatshirt, examining it with a small frown. He glanced between Scott and me as if it was a trick question. "Well, I certainly thought so."

Scott clawed at his throat. He tried to say something, but it came out gurgled and wheezing.

Hunter ignored him, gesturing to the foyer with one hand. "Shall we?"

The kitchen had grown quiet, and I was rooted in place when his fingers grazed my back, urging me forward with the smallest amount of pressure. I stepped away from his fingertips on instinct and headed through the arched kitchen doorway without looking back.

Hunter turned to me as soon as we reached the foyer. "Do you already have a ride home?"

"Yeah, my brother is coming."

We were both quiet as we waited for Chris. I looked anywhere but at him, my gaze settling on the intricate tiles lining the floor. I had been tracing the sophisticated floral curve, but I paused, peering up at him. "Isn't Scott going to be pissed?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. "I assume he's more than pissed right now."

"Won't he, like, come after you?"

Hunter shrugged, smirking as if I was the very definition of entertainment. "Most likely."

I didn't mean for my voice to sound so desperate, but it did. "You're not afraid of him?"

"He's mostly harmless."

I stared at him as he leaned against the wall, his back to the rest of the house and arms crossed against his chest. His hood had fallen off during the commotion, and black strands of hair fell across his forehead. Hunter's high cheekbones always made his expression look tense, but there was no throbbing pulse against his temple or jutting jawline now. He looked so relaxed he almost looked bored.

My phone vibrated in my jeans pocket, and I pulled it out as Chris's car pulled up. "My brother's here."

He nodded once. "Well, I'll see you."

"Are you ..." I studied the collection of people spewing into the dining room from the kitchen. "Are you going to be okay?"

His mouth was quirked in amusement, as though he knew something crucial that he wasn't sharing. "We've lived together since I was ten, and that wasn't the first time we've roughhoused." He paused on a breath of laughter. "Don't worry about me. I'll be just fine."

I wasn't quite sure if it was the assurance in his voice or his stance, but I nodded once before pushing open the front door. I almost broke my neck on the thin sheet of ice covering the two front steps, but when I turned around to check if Hunter had witnessed the embarrassment, he was already gone.