What Peter felt, he couldn't describe. It was after they had gotten back to the apartment, after they had eaten dinner-- chicken parmesan pasta, even though he'd have been fine with just pop tarts-- and after he had crawled into bed that it all surfaced. Doubt. Guilt. Uncertainty.

He was bordering on what felt like remorse for his actions, for encouraging something he didn't want, but even that coiled and twisted into pangs of anger. Anger at Colin for initiating anything and everything. Anger at himself for not pulling back, for giving in.

Even with the wind that blew through the open windows, making its presence known through the blinds that tapped at the sill, the room felt stuffy. Too small, too humid.

Yet, Peter covered his head with the sheets and willed himself to stop thinking and fall asleep. It took a while, but he did eventually.

But even that didn't help because his thoughts had morphed into dreams that went with him into unconsciousness.

As if that wasn't bad enough, he had to walk around the apartment the next morning as if nothing had happened. It was harder than he thought even with Colin also brushing the past event under the rug. Peter was thankful Colin didn't bring it up when they had walked past each other on his way to the bathroom. He was very considerate.

That was part of the problem. Colin was too nice to him. Peter wanted nothing more than to loathe him, to hate what they had done. He didn't even feel comfortable in his own body now because all he could see, all he could feel, were Colin's touches.

In the shower, the warmth of the water that beat down at him felt like the same warmth that engulfed him when they were pressed together. The shower curtain brushing him when he stepped out also reminded him on the light caresses when Colin's fingers lightly danced on his skin. Peter shuddered at the images that ran in his mind. Him kissing Colin back. Him allowing Colin to pull down his jeans. All because of his impulsive mouth that just won't stop running.

Make me.

And Colin did make him. He made Peter feel all this torrent of emotions which left his insides a gooey mess. Worse, that gooey mess had managed to seep out of his body and into his boxers. The thought of it alone haunted him like a bad dream.

Peter couldn't stay in this cramped space anymore, the apartment, it was all too overbearing. He wanted-- needed-- to get out. To distract himself or better yet, occupy himself with something. Or someone. Whichever worked best.

It seemed luck had smiled down on him because as soon as he opened Instagram, he found a photo in his feed mentioning a party. It mentioned a place in Crystal Cove-- a neighbourhood where everyone who resided there was either stinking rich or flipping famous.

Peter scrolled through the tags on the post and realized it was being thrown by someone in his college-- 90 percent of the people who bragged that they were invited were from there. The party was scheduled for the 18th. He checked the date on his phone and realized it was the 18th; the party was happening tonight. He wasn't invited but that wouldn't stop him. Crashers were the best part of parties anyway.

But he wouldn't dare crash the party alone, it would seem like he was friendless and a loser. No, he had to find someone who would be willing to go with him. Someone who wouldn't resist the thought of climbing a few notches up the social ladder before college resumed.

Dakota.

Yes, Dakota. There was no way she would refuse once he brought up her reputation. This could be the event that salvaged her from the horrible haunting of the Sir-Pukes-a-lot name.

Peter sent Dakota the post and was hoping she was online. She was. Three text dots appeared and in a couple of seconds, a message arrived.

Dakota: ?

Peter: You wanna go? It's not far... that much

Dakota: You know me and parties don't go well

Peter facepalmed, groaning out loud. He had to convince her to go with him. After thinking for a while, his fingers tapped at his iPhone's screen.

Peter: You and ALCOHOL don't go well. I'll make sure you don't drink, scout's honor :)

It took a while for Dakota to reply. It was only a couple of minutes but it felt like an eternity to Peter.

Dakota: I do love a man in uniform. What time?

Ah, finally. Dakota was cooperating. Or flirting? Whatever it was, Peter couldn't ask for anyone better to waltz into that party with. He told her 10 pm would be great and they planned to meet at Dakota's place-- since it was closer to the party's venue. He was about to do a happy dance when his iPhone pinged again.

Dakota: Is this another one of Chase's parties?

Oh, it was, he could tell that from the comments in the post hailing the blond. But Peter wasn't going to let Dakota be deterred because of some rich fuckboy.

Peter: Not sure but who cares anyway? Fuck Chase.

Dakota: LOL. Did that already.

Peter sucked in a breath, thumbs hovering over the lit screen. He had no idea how to respond to that particularly because he never expected it. The text bubbles appeared again and another message followed.

Dakota: It was the worst. No wonder I couldn't hold it in and threw up all over him :(

Peter laughed but it sounded forced in his own ears. Nonetheless, at least he knew all the stories Chase told about his sexual endeavors were fucking lies.

Peter: As I said, he deserved it. I'll see you at 10

Dakota: Yeah, laters.

Right after Peter had fallen on his bed and had heaved out a satisfied sigh, he remembered a detail that made his body go rigid. Fumbling, he managed to catch his phone before it fell from where he had placed on his desk.

He sat up, unlocking it quickly and going to his lastest conversation before Dakota could log off.

Peter: I just told Colin about it, said we should have fun.

It was the best Peter could bring up in his moment of panic. In the instance from when the message got marked as delivered to when Dakota's profile had "typing" displayed under it, Peter had to hold his breath.

He wiped his sweaty palms against his shorts as he watched the three dots appear then disappear and then reappear again. Peter never realized how stressful waiting for a text back could be. He alternated between staring at the ceiling and biting on his fingers until his screen lit up with an unread message notification.

Dakota: Then fun we shall have.

Peter gave himself a high five, which was basically a clap, and allowed his body to sink into the bed with a full-toothed grin.

°

Beer bottles were strewn around on the lawn in front of the massive building. The house looked like it was cut out from Architects Today magazine, everything about it was elegant, classy and screamed money-- if you ignored the mass of people and what they were doing to it and in it.

The music was so loud it made Peter's skin tingle and his lungs turn to mush. The base thumped in time with his heartbeat, as though they were one, filling him from head to toe. It wasn't a song he recognized but Peter took a liking to it.

Over the roar of music, a distant, hazy chatter could be heard. Peter looked over at Dakota who was adjusting her high-waisted denim jeans. He caught himself staring as she brushed her hair out of her face, the strands tinted a slight red colour from the lights glaring out of the building. The strip of bare skin her toned stomach had stared back at him from the distance where black crop top ended and jeans began.

"Let's go in," Dakota said with a smile.

Peter nodded and they both went up to the door, walking side by side. Thinking to himself, once again, Peter realized he couldn't have picked a better candidate. Dakota exhumed confidence-- in her step and the way she held her head up.

She wasn't even fazed by the burly guy standing at the door. Working her charm and with the help of a clearly drunk guy who stumbled out, waving what seemed to be a girl's top like a flag, they got in.

The first thing Peter noticed was how hot it was inside. Followed by the fact that he couldn't hear his own voice when he mumbled "Oh shit."

He'd been to parties before but none had been like this. The air felt sticky and empty bottles laid on the floor, waiting on the floor for someone to trip over them. Peter was almost a victim.

A group of people were gathered in a corner playing a game of spades. Others were just dancing. Hold on, it wasn't just dancing. Just didn't include girls slipping their shirts off. Just in no way involved clambering with the gracefulness of a sledgehammer.

A hand gripped his and Peter found himself in front of a bunch of giggling girls who Dakota introduced as her friends. They smiled in a way you'd call seductive but the glow of the lights reflected in an unflattering way. Aside from the fact that their make up was running and their feet wobbled in the heels they were in, they were pretty decent looking.

After a while, Peter found that he took a liking to Dakota's friends. He even danced with one of them while Dakota was talking to this dark-skinned guy who had been staring at her from where he sat. It seemed he had finally gotten the courage to talk to her and the bashful grin on his face told Peter it had paid off.

Two dances and two shots later, Peter found that he was enjoying himself. He made sure Dakota didn't drink anything though, and he even went with her when she had to use the bathroom. He didn't go in, he waited outside. He got vomit on his shoes when a skinny guy who was on his way to the inside bumped into him. He wasn't mad though, it would probably wash out. If not, he'd just kiss them goodbye.

Things started going downhill when the host spotted Dakota with him after a grand entry.

"Ah, there she is. Didn't know you'd ever come back here but you're just full of surprises, Dakota." Chase made a big show of talking, spreading his arms and passing a look to all the people whose attention he'd managed to attract. Some nodded while others murmured amongst themselves, looking from Peter to Dakota to Chase.

"And you're so full of shit," Dakota muttered but Chase didn't hear her over the music that pulsed out of the speakers. Peter guessed from the way her gaze on him wavered, that she was glad he didn't catch what she said.

"What do you want, sweetheart? Beer? Vodka? Tequila? We have all the good stuff." He spun around quickly, the liquid in his cup sloshing wildly. "Am I right, people?"

They all cheered, those with cups in their hands giving a toast despite their pie-eyed states. The ones who didn't care about his little display didn't bother to reply. They were either too busy making out or trying to see who would end up on the ER first.

Dakota crossed her arms as she answered Chase. "Sorry, I drink wine now."

He hummed, glazed eyes moving from the blonde girl to her dark-haired companion. "Who's your little friend, Dakota? The guy you're fucking, huh?" Chase slurred, sipping from his cup and wiping the froth that stuck to his lips with his tongue.

Peter's gaze hardened as Chase passed him a look before turning his attention to Dakota. Through clenched teeth, he hissed. "Always such a fucking whore."

Peter had come to the party only to let the anger he felt stream out through alcohol and probable bad decisions. It was time he made the first one of the night.

He punched Chase. Right in the face.

~~

Whew... that was a doozy.

Vote if you think Chase deserved that punch our boy fed him!

Special mentions: djn_1310 for voting!

@captainofthis and whatDIDyouSAYbitch for voting and commenting!

See y'all in the next chapter :*