We all pile into the den. It's the smallest room on the first floor of the house and Travis's dad's old office. There's a dark wood desk and old leather couch. A vintage record player resting on top a stack of vinyl. I stand right by the door, eager for the best escape route. Everyone else arranges in a sort of circle and Nate throws a pack of cards on the desk.

"Hey, Emmy, shut the door." Alex nods his head at me.

I turn to close the door and almost bang my face into Brooks's chest. The bane of my existence just appeared in the doorway.

"Brooks! About time!" Nate claps him on the back.

"Hey," Brooks grins. I avoid his eyes.

"Brooks, nice of you to join us," Meg says.

"Is it?" I mumble under my breath.

"Come on. Let's all play nice," Trix sings.

"Brooks, take a seat in the circle. You guys ready?" Travis asks before placing a beer can in the center of the card ring.

Brooks moves past me and I can smell his scent rolling off his skin. I also smell the booze. He must be hammered already. Brooks leans in the windowsill behind the desk, between Nate and Meg and directly across from me.

"Let's start," Alex says, clapping his hands together.

For about five minutes it's just a group of old high school friends enjoying a friendly game of Kings. Just like flip cup. Six is for chicks –Trix, Meg, and I drink. Ace is a waterfall and thanks to Alex we all drain our skippies. Fuck Alex. This is where it turns. The beer and liquor mixture finds a happy home in us –settles in quickly and contently. The buzz is real. Stakes are high.

"I got eight," Brooks says, holding up his card. "Em, you're my date."

"No chance," I spit, eyes locked on his.

"No saying no, Emmy. That's the game!" Alex calls out.

"Oh come on, no communication required. Just drink when he drinks," Trix says.

"Just drink when I drink," Brooks repeats, raising his glass to mine. The smugness.

I don't answer. I just bring my cup up in front of me in a fake toast fashion and drink. Brooks smirks at me across the desk.

"KING!" Nate shouts. "First rule is... No first names allowed."

"You always pick that rule," Meg laughs. "My turn!"

Meg picks seven. Aim to heaven. Well, you know all the rules.

I pull a five and flip it over. "Guys."

"Drink up." Brooks cheers me again.

Fuck. I was not trying to get this drunk this fast.

"Five is for guysss," Trix says to Brooks.

"But Emmy's my date," Brooks answers. He drains his own cup.

"First name!" Travis calls out Brooks. "Drink!"

"Six!" Trix flips her card.

"I think six should be for dicks," I groan. Brooks's eyes narrow on mine.

"What happened to playing nice?" Trix asks.

"Yea right," Meg laughs. Her and Nate are making out now.

Travis pulls a two and makes Alex drink. Nate pulls another two and makes Alex drink again.

"Would you look at that, Queen of Hearts." Brooks throws down his own card.

"Questions!" Alex shouts.

"You're the queen of how many hearts, Em?" Brooks asks, looking straight at me over the edge of his cup.

"First names!" Trix squeals. She flips her red hair over her shoulder and reaches to punch Brooks.

"Trix, why is Brooks here?" I ask.

"Stop saying names! Drink!" Meg yells.

"Why does it matter?" She asks, turning to Travis.

"Who even invited you?" Travis is looking at Brooks, whose grin disappears. His eyes narrow again.

"How many hearts, Em? How many guys?" Brooks looks stone cold.

"Seriously?" I hardly whisper. My cup is blocking my lips. Thank god because I know they're quivering. He's putting me on the spot right now in front of everyone.

"Pull another card," I say.

"I don't think so. Not till you answer." Brooks says.

"Oh fuck off!" I scream across the room.

Everyone is quiet, just watching us. My buzz is crossing the line. The emotions I've been bottling are starting to seep through. There's a crack in my glass.

"Nothing wrong with a little honestly. Unless you're embarrassed," Brooks says, shrugging.

"Only of being with you," I smile.

Alex claps and Travis laughs. Trix and Meg are still just watching me carefully.

"Can't help you were so easy, Ems," Brooks says. "Some things do never change."

WTF.

"Brooks," Travis almost growls.

"Ok. Ok. Someone pull another card," Trix chimes in. "I will literally PAY someone to pull another card."

"What? Don't want everyone to know you're a slut?" Brooks says, standing up and leaning over the desk.

"You are such a DICK!" I shout, throwing what's left of my drink at him. The brownish pink liquid projects across the room and lands in his lap. Some on his face.

"Nice aim!" Alex laughs.

The look on his face is priceless. Worth the embarrassment I feel from having just thrown a drink at him in front of our friends. Like a scorned 15 year-old. I mean, I'm still scorned just not 15. Brooks's eyes turn dark, centered on me.

"What the FUCK EM!" He screams and knocks over his cup on the desk. Knocks over several things on the desk. His breathing is quick and heavy and I think he might punch Nate or Alex in the face if they don't move.

"Dude, come on," Travis steps in front of Brooks.

"It's fine. I'm gonna run to the bathroom real quick," I say quickly. Can't cry here.

"Em," Trix whispers.

"It's OK. I'll be right back," I whisper to just her. She looks at me suspiciously but nods.

I turn my back to the group and walk out of the den. I find myself facing a roomful of wasted and/or high twenty-something's. Glory days. I can't remember where the downstairs bathroom is. The beat in the floor isn't helping. The drunken stumbling isn't helping.

"Em! HI!" A girl shouts, hugging me.

"Um, hi?" I lift one arm to pretend to hug her back. Never seen her before in my life. Never will again.

I can hear Alex's voice over the roar of the crowd and the drums in the music. He's laughing. I pray I'm not the joke. I twist the knob on the first door I see and find myself stumbling into the laundry room. The fresh scent of detergent engulfs me.

I pull the door shut behind me. The pseudo semi-silence is nice. It offers a short reprieve to my splitting migraine. I lean against the dryer and throw my head back. I feel the tears surfacing. Who cries over a guy? I haven't cried over a guy since ...Brooks. The door creaks open and the music gets louder.

"Occupied," I shout between my hands.

"I see that."

Brooks.

He watches me from the door before stepping toward me. The door closes behind him and the room is quiet again. I feel trapped. I hate that I don't hate it.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"Nothing," Brooks says. He tucks his hands in his jeans and rocks on his toes.

"So you just followed me in here?" I roll my eyes.

"Not exactly." Brooks shakes his head.

"Seems like it to me."

"Ems," Brooks whispers.

"Don't." I throw my arms out to stop him from coming any closer to me.

"I'm sorry –back there–"

"I don't care," I cut across him, head still pounding, taste of my skippy on my lips. "You're so hot and cold and I can't keep up anymore! I don't want to!"

"You do," Brooks says. I can't tell if he's being a sarcastic ass or actually sincere.

"Why do you enjoy it? Making me look like a fool whenever you get the chance?" I ask, crossing my arms in front of me. I lean on a pile of folded towels.

"Not whenever I get the chance," Brooks grins. "Sometimes I let it slide."

"Stop doing that. This is what I mean. Stop making everything a joke! This is all stupid. The whole summer!" I shout, pushing him back away from me again.

I think of his question from the other day: Do you regret it? I want to change my answer. Fuck, I wanna change my answer.

"I fucking hate you, Brooks." I shake my head, my eyes looking away from him. I'm finally saying it like I mean it. Like I didn't say it all those years ago after I found out.

"What can I do?" He asks. He puts his cup down on top of the washer and now his empty hand is so close to me. Closer. It's on my bare shoulder now, sliding up my neck.

"You can leave me alone," I offer.

"I won't stop trying," Brooks says.

"Please do."

I push past him, sure to knock my shoulder into him as I do. I fling the door open and rejoin the crowd. I can feel the cup of skippy starting to settle in. Whatever the secret ingredient is is working.

Oh fuck. I can't wait to leave the high school drama bullshit behind. I just want to get back to my Seattle routine. Early wake-up. Sessions at Go Zen. Corner coffee bar with Zoë. My loft. Repeat.

In two days this entire place will be a memory again. And I'll go back to seeing these people only on the social media scape.

I'll only see Brooks on the social media scape.