Mom only had one condition to let me off the hook two days early — keep the house clean for the rest of the week.

Due to her clean freak nature, the house was never dirty, so it should've been an easy task.

If it weren't for Jackson, who had me questioning if my freedom was even worth the trouble.

After he overheard Mom's condition, coincidentally, his shoes were always dirty. He was constantly forgetting dirty dishes all over the house. The couch cushions were left disheveled every time he left the living room.

And the list goes on.

As much as I wanted to leave his mess for Mom to see, I knew it would fall on me.

Because when she was home, Jackson was the perfect freaking angel everyone else seemed to believe he was.

When he told me he was done 'trying to be nice', I wasn't sure what I expected.

I guess I was hoping that meant he would just ignore me, which he was — unless he was keeping up his facade in front of Mom, asking if I needed help cleaning up his mess.

It was confusing — no, infuriating — how easily he could go from purposely pissing me off, to acting like I don't exist in a matter of minutes.

Riling me up then removing himself from the situation before I could explode.

In Kallie's words, I was a big ball of stress and anger all week.

Because Jackson had engraved himself in my mind.

Even though he wasn't actively talking to me, he was impossible to ignore. There were reminders of him everywhere.

His messes.
The sounds of his tv playing through the wall.
The muffled coughs outside my window.
His loud truck pulling into the driveway.

And the freaking curtain rod.

I should've been happy that it was straight now, but I wasn't. I would've much preferred it to stay crooked.

Because that would mean Mom and I would still be waiting on Dad or Elliott to fix it, and everything would be normal.

But now, something as normal as a straight curtain rod reminded me that everything wasn't normal — because he fixed it.

I couldn't ignore the fact that he was here, and I hated it.

While I was waiting for Kallie to pick me up, I sat hunched on the couch, resting my forearms on my knees.

My eyes zeroed in on the little hole above the left side of the curtain rod, and I frowned, bringing my hands up to rub my temples.

Kallie said she was going to be here an hour and a half ago, and with every minute that passed, my desire to go to this party was shrinking.

Elliott had to work this afternoon, so I'm assuming he left there and went straight to the party.

Jackson never came to the house after school. He actually disappeared a lot during the week, and I couldn't be bothered wondering where he went; I was just glad he wasn't here.

Maybe he was trying to work things out with his dad, so this nightmare would come to an end.

"Who's ready to party?" Kallie yelled as she burst through the front door, making me straighten and turn toward her.

Her clothes were quite plain — a black t-shirt, black leggings, with a sparkly gold tutu around her hips, and a pair of old converse.

Her wild curls were pushed back by a headband, resembling a lion's mane.

But her face was the real eye catcher. It was expertly contoured in white and black, decorated with bright colors and glitter, morphing her into a beautiful sugar skull.

"You're late," I deadpanned as I tugged down my fuzzy sleeves, suddenly feeling self conscious in the teddy bear onesie I was wearing.

But I couldn't necessarily go shopping this week, so I had to make do with my costume from two years ago. It was a little baggy now, but that just made it more comfortable.

Taking in Kallie's outfit now though, I felt like a child getting ready to go trick or treating.

It didn't help that I was nowhere near as skilled as Kallie was with makeup, so I settled with nude eyeshadow, mascara, and a lipstick that was just a little rosier than my normal lips.

"Yeah, they made this look a lot easier in the tutorial," Kallie sighed, waving a hand around her face.

"You killed it, though," I smiled at her before grabbing my overnight bag from the couch.

She really did; it looked like she'd had it professionally done.

"And you look so cute," she gushed, stopping herself right before she put her hands on her cheeks, dropping them on her shoulders instead.

I frowned as I adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "You don't think I look stupid?"

"Of course not — guys like the innocent looking girls," she stepped up to me with a small smirk. "But I would unzip this a little."

I looked down and furrowed my brow as she unzipped my front zipper to expose the top half of my black tank top underneath.

"Innocent with a little something underneath," she leaned her head to the side as she shrugged a shoulder when I looked back at her.

"That's not why I'm going," I told her with an eye roll.

"Right," she squinted her eyes at me, nodding slowly.

I wasn't going for attention; I didn't even know why I was going anymore.

I knew most teenagers my age got restless the more they sat at home, but I was the opposite.

The longer I sat home alone, the more I didn't want to leave. My room was calling to me, and it took everything in me to not give in to it.

Kallie didn't know about these moods, because most of the time I was in them, she was busy with work. And I didn't want to burden her by telling her, because it wasn't an issue to me.

She brightened my mood when I was with her, but when she was busy, I was perfectly content being alone in my room.

Where there were no judging eyes, no forced conversations. I didn't have to act a certain way, I didn't have to be anyone.

I could just be me in solitude.

But I knew if I told Kallie I didn't feel like going anymore, she would settle with staying in — and I knew she didn't want to.

So I sucked it up and forced a smile, knowing the longer I was with her, the more real it would get.

"Let's go."

"Are you sure this is the right address?" I asked, biting the corner of my lip as I looked at Kallie.

She glanced at her phone then back up to the house before nodding.

I was expecting a frat house. Guys in polos and khakis doing keg stands in the front yard. Loud music that was threatening to get the cops called.

Instead, we were in a neighborhood that looked like it was built in the nineties.

It looked like the kind of neighborhood elderly people living off the government would live in — unkept yards, uneven, cracked sidewalks, run down cars on the roads.

The house Kallie's GPS brought us to was in a cove, and although there were quite a few cars parked throughout, it didn't even look like a party was going on.

It was just past eleven, so I knew it was too early for people to have already left.

"Do you see El's car?" Kallie asked, and we both glanced around, until I noticed my brother's car parked on the right side of the cove and pointed.

"Okay, cool. Let's go," she said as she cut the engine, climbing out before I could respond.

"I hope he didn't invite us to a trap house or something," she continued in an unsure voice when we fell into step with each other.

"I don't think he would do that," I said in a tone similar to hers, scrunching my nose as we stepped up the creaky wooden porch steps.

Kallie lifted her fist to knock, but stopped when we heard people yelling and cheering inside. She looked at me and lifted her brows, slowly turning the knob and pushing the door open.

To our horror, we walked inside and noticed everyone was in t-shirts and jeans. Not a costume in sight — aside from a guy wearing devil horns to the left of us, but he was still in normal clothes.

Fuck. I could be in bed right now.

Instead, I'm at my first ever party, in a freaking teddy bear onesie.

Please, whoever will listen, please kill me.

I took a quick glance around the room at the handful of people in the cramped living room, until my eyes found Elliott.

He was standing at the end of a beer pong table, that was taking up the majority of the open floor, with his hand on his forehead in disbelief as he stared at us.

"Woohoo! Finally, some people with personality!"

I whipped my head around in time to see a guy in a banana costume running from the kitchen, straight for us.

The first thing I noticed when Banana Guy got to us was bloodshot, hazel eyes shining at us as he smiled.

"What's your names?" He asked, looking between me and Kallie.

"B-Brylee," I sputtered out and hugged my arms around me, wishing I could cover myself completely.

"Kallie," she piped up next to me, smiling sweetly, obviously not affected in the slightest.

"Well, Bailey, Kallie," he nodded his head to both of us, and I was too stunned to correct him. "You gals are officially the coolest ones here, aside from me, of course."

"I told everyone else costumes were optional — seen as we're all riding the struggle bus, going in debt for a fancy piece of paper, ya know? But I figured someone would at least dig up an old costume or something," Banana Guy threw his hands up in exasperation before he pointed to himself and continued.

"This thing is like, four years old, and still works like a charm," he winked at Kallie, and she snorted.

"It really doesn't," a guy in a torn Rolling Stones t-shirt said from behind Banana Guy, dropping a hand on his shoulder.

"Drinks are in the cooler on the back porch. If you want a speciality drink, ask for Darius — that's me, the bartender — no really, I am a bartender, I promise," Darius said with his hands up when he saw me raise a suspicious eyebrow, throwing me a crooked smile.

"Back porch is also the designated smoking section," Darius continued, pointing a thumb behind him. "But if you're into smoking the stronger stuff, you'll have to go to the shed in the back."

They must have a lot of parties here. He sounds like he's training us on our first day of work or some shit.

I took a better look around the room, now that everyone else had gotten bored of the new people in the room and returned to their conversation.

Even Elliott was back to focusing on his game, probably not wanting people to know he was associated with us.

The living room was definitely not meant to hold as many people as it was right now. The two worn-in couches were pushed together on the back wall, along with a small coffee table, to make room for the beer pong table. The tv on the mantle was playing some rap music video that no one seemed to care about.

"So who actually lives here?" I asked, taking in the bare walls.

Screams bachelor pad to me.

"Just me and Sam, here," Darius said, patting Banana Guy on the chest.

Banana Guy — I mean Sam, held an arm out to Kallie.

"Wanna step out back and grab a beer?"

"Um," she hesitated as she looked at me, silently asking if I'd be okay, so I gave her a reassuring smile and waved her off.

"Sure," Kallie shrugged as she turned back to him, linking arms with him.

While they walked further into the living room, she turned back to look at me with huge eyes and an excited smile.

I shook my head and let out a humorless laugh as I looked down.

Why did I even come here? Kallie can obviously handle herself.

Maybe I can get Elliott to take me home real quick.

One look at Elliott's flushed face told me that wasn't an option.

This was a bad idea.

"So, what's your name?" Darius asked, and I saw him take a step closer to me, so I looked back up at him.

"Um, Brylee," I mumbled, nervously looking away from his curious blue eyes.

"Well, 'um, Brylee'," he laughed as he pushed his dirty blonde hair out of his face. "You don't seem like much of a party person."

"Yeah, not really," I scrunched my nose, watching the people around us talking and laughing effortlessly.

I never understood how people just walked into a room full of strangers and immediately acted like they belonged.

"Yeah, me either," Darius said, making me turn back to him with a confused frown.

"Sam's the party guy — I just supply the drinks," he elaborated, so I nodded my head, letting out a small oh.

"So, if you're not the party type, how'd you end up here?"

Just then Elliott yelled out, and we both glanced over to see him with his arms in the air.

"And I — am on — fire," he shouted, pointing to the two players on the other side of the table, then gripped his partner's shoulder and shook him.

Poor guy looked like he was going to vomit from the motion.

"That's my brother," I grimaced as I pointed to him.

"Elliott?" He barked out a laugh after I nodded. "Your brother is the beer pong champion."

"Really?" I asked in disbelief, knitting my brow together. "He comes here a lot?"

"Oh, yeah," Darius nodded. "Him and Jackson both."

"Jackson?" I echoed, eyes widening as I quickly looked around the room, like he would appear just from the mention of his name.

I'm such an idiot. I should've known he would be here with Elliott.

Dammit.

What I didn't understand was the small part of me that was hoping for my eyes to fall on him.

He'd been a fucking headache all week, why was I looking for him? I should be running in the other freaking direction.

"Yeah. The tall, stoner Mexican that's always with him — he's actually here more than Elliott. Wait, is he Mexican? He looks like it, but I've never met a Mexican named Jackson. Looks more like a Julio," Darius rambled, laughing at his own 'joke'.

I shifted my weight and cleared my throat as I looked at Elliott, wondering if it'd be weird if I hung around him all night.

I might look lame, but that sounded better than hanging around a racist.

"You want a drink?" Darius asked, and I had to press my lips together to keep from telling him to shut up and get away from me.

This is his house. He can kick me out.

Besides, he seems to be the only person here interested in talking to me.

"It'll help take the edge off," he offered when I continued to hesitate.

"Okay," I said, just loud enough to be heard.

A drink didn't sound too bad. Anything sounded better than letting my mind run rapid right now.

"Right this way," he swept his arms to the left, giving me another crooked smile.

Once we squeezed through the living room to get to the kitchen, Darius immediately began moving around, grabbing plastic cups, a metal shot glass, and a shaker.

"Pick your poison," Darius said over his shoulder as he began pulling liquor bottles out of the cabinet. "We got vodka, tequila, whiskey, rum...you name it."

My eyes widened in surprise as I looked over all the choices.

"I kinda went a little overboard when I was learning all the drinks for my new job," he laughed slightly, pushing his hair off his forehead. "Sam has been loving it, though."

"Oh, I'm sure," I laughed before wrinkling my nose. "Um — honestly, I'm used to just taking my liquor straight. I don't know many fancy drinks."

I had plenty of practice taking shots with Kallie. And I never saw the point in mixed drinks, all they did was add a bunch of sugar and calories.

"Damn, okay. How about a dirty martini then? You like olives?"

"Uh, sure," I shrugged, taking a seat on the counter while I watched him.

Darius was actually kind of cute, but I still couldn't get over his little 'joke'.

Maybe I was just on edge. I had been all week, so maybe everything was just rubbing me the wrong way right now.

I forced out a laugh as I watched him make a comical face while he struggled to open the vodka bottle — until it finally gave way with a pop, and he sent a sheepish smile my way.

"Thanks," I smiled when he handed me my cup, taking a small sip before grimacing. "It's...really salty."

"I might've put too much olive juice," Darius said, laughing at my face.

He quickly slipped the cup out of my hands, pouring out a bit into the sink before he added more vodka and handed it back. "Try that."

I took a quick sip, attempting to hide my face as the alcohol burned, but nodded. "Better."

"Cool," he smirked before pouring himself a Jack and Coke.

"Wanna head back in there?"

"Sure," I nodded, and Darius put his hand on the small of my back to lead me back to the living room.

But as soon as we walked through the door, an obviously drunk guy lost his footing and stumbled straight into Darius, making him literally throw his drink on me as he tried to catch himself.

My jaw dropped as I looked down at the liquid running down my side.

Not again.

I knew this was a bad idea.

Instead of laughing and pointing like I expected, people were rolling their eyes and shoving the drunk guy.

"Way to fuckin' go, Jody," a guy said as he shoved him.

"Fuck, man. I'm so sorry," the drunk guy — Jody — slurred, leaning heavily on Darius.

"Go sit down somewhere, Jody," Darius grumbled, shoving him off roughly before turning toward me again. "I'm so sorry — shit. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I mumbled, unzipping my onesie before the drink seeped through.

I tied the sleeves around my waist to keep it in place, shivering as the air hit my exposed shoulders.

What little confidence I had went down the drain when it hit me how exposed I was now.

Should I hold my arms out a little so they don't squish against my sides?

"Darius, don't just stand there, dumb ass," a petite blonde girl put her hand on my arm, giving me a sympathetic smile. "I'm Jesse, the drunk's fiancé — so sorry about him."

"No, it's okay," I assured her while I settled on hugging my arms around my stomach.

"Are you sure? I promise he's not normally like that. He's just not much of a drinker, so when he does drink, he gets shitty real fast. And —"

"Really, it's fine," I cut off her