"Can you get the fuck out of my way? Thanks." I bite sarcastically at a girl who thinks it's a good idea to stand in the middle of the hallway while she chats up a guy. So fucking predictable.

I finally make it to the kitchen of Alpha what-the-fuck-ever house, and pour myself a sip of the good stuff, putting it into a proper glass because nobody will say shit about it if I do. I taste the whiskey and feel it burn as it slides smoothly down my throat, coating it. Swiveling around, I lean against the sticky countertop, watching all the drunk kids make fools out of themselves as they dance with strangers and drink while underage. Not that I can say anything about that last part, I'm only nineteen.

Some frat guy walks up to me and opens his mouth but I stop him by putting my hand on his face and pushing him away forcefully. He looks at me like I'm crazy and I show him my precious middle finger without even making eye contact as he walks away, cradling his pride.

"That's one way to get a guy to stop talking to you, I'll have to try that," I hear a familiar voice sound from behind me, and turn slowly to see the captain of my soccer team slowly filling a glass with water from the tap. I'd recognize that annoying British accent anywhere.

"A guy would have to be interested in you in order for that to happen," I roll my eyes, turning back around and facing the party, tipping back the rest of my drink so that I can handle Charlotte without punching her in her pretty face.

"Oh Maddison, I didn't know you were blind on top of being—"

"Charlie," Reed sighs, just now entering the kitchen and cutting off what was sure to be one of Charlotte's condescending retorts. I give Reed a small smile and have the decency to act slightly apologetic. Reed knows that I started it, I always do.

Charlotte sighs and gives me the look that says "truce?", lifting up her eyebrows with a blank look on her face. The same look we always share when caught fighting by our mutual friend. We may both be bitches, but neither of us is willing to drag Reed into our petty arguments, so this is how they always end.

I give a small nod but my face stays blank. Charlotte directs a fake smile towards me that immediately turns into a genuine one when she looks at Reed. That seems to be Charlotte's only redeeming quality so far, and the only thing we can agree on. Keep Reed out of it. Reed is much too good of a person to be friends with either of us, but I sure as hell won't question her on her choices because she's the only person who can handle being friends with someone like me. Reed is too accepting of my flaws and I adore her for it.

"So today was fun..." Reed says, trying to rope both of us into conversation. She's still holding out hope that the two of us will become best friends.

"You did really well today," Charlotte says to her softly, nudging her arm, and Reed blushes.

"She always does well," I say without my usual defensiveness, and Charlotte nods.

"Alright alright, I'm amazing. We know this." Reed jokes and her eyes drift over to the front door, lighting up. She hardly hesitates to leave the two of us alone before rushing off to whoever just arrived in the house.

"The bad boy who's only good for her?" Charlotte asks and I lean over to see, nodding when I spot Farris's curly red hair, face tilted down to look at Reed. I purse my lips and glance at her. I'm about to open my mouth but Charlotte cuts me off with an almost unnoticeable shake of her head. "It's not our place." She says softly and I grit my teeth, nodding.

"You do your part, and I'll do mine." I step away, walking in the direction of the front door where my friend is standing with Farris and Xander. The only one of the three who even looks like they want to be here is Farris.

"Hey nerds. Freckles." I greet, standing far enough away that I'm not forced to look up at the three giants but close enough that I can hear them over the music.

"What, did Hot Topic close early tonight?" Farris asks after eyeing me up and down. My face stays completely serene as I turn from him to Reed, who's currently pinching his arm while he tries not to flinch. She only pinches him harder when he can't stop laughing.

"Xan taking you home?" I ask and she nods, biting the inside of her lower lip and discreetly glancing at Farris out of the corner of her eye. I run my hand down her arm and pull back, nodding once at Xander before walking out to the front, where my bike is pulled in between two cars with the helmet on top.

I ride down the empty streets, letting the wind cool me off in the leather pants I wear despite the heat. Pulling into a little diner to grab a bite to eat before bed, I park the bike and take the helmet off but bring it with me. The place is empty, so I show myself to a table situated by a window, tapping my thumbs against the table as I wait.

A guy that looks to be around my age comes out from the back, and he looks so damn familiar that I narrow my eyes at him. When his attention lands on me, he starts but doesn't slow. The closer he gets, the more that I can see the green in his wide eyes, and I relax my face to give him a little peace of mind.

"I'm Aaron and I'll be your server tonight. Can I get you anything to drink?" He says quietly and I raise my pierced eyebrow at the sound of his accent. European, but I can't place it anywhere specific.

"Hey, I'm gonna go ahead and order if that's alright." He nods, not making eye contact. "Chocolate chip pancakes with lots of whipped cream please," I say and he nods, mumbling something before turning around and practically running away to place the order. " Thank you, Aaron!" I call out after him and he stumbles into the door that most likely leads to the kitchen, making me smile.

When he comes back out, I have my back against the window and I'm facing the counter where he moves to sit, pulling out a book. Before he can open it, I'm sliding out of my booth and taking a seat at the bar-type counter between us. He glances up at me timidly and I try to keep my face as non-intimidating as possible.

"Hey, Aaron. Whatcha reading?" I ask, trying to get a peek at the cover.

He gulps, but slowly tips the book so that the cover is visible to me, the black book relatively thin. "Psycho," I read aloud, nodding. "You don't strike me as the type to read horror," I remark, looking over him and cataloging his features. He's relatively tall, with curly blond hair, gorgeous cheekbones, and a shy demeanor.

"What do I look like I read?" He asks curiously, chancing a glance up at me. Licking my lips, I tilt my head to the side.

"Non-fiction or Sci-fi. What do you think I read?" I question, wanting to bring him out of his shell. He glances back at the kitchen, looking like he wants to escape.

"True crime. Horror maybe." He says softly as if he doesn't want to offend me but still wants to be honest. This makes me smile.

"Would you be less scared of me if I told you I like to read romance?" I ask and he blushes. Now I want to know why.

"Who says I'm scared of you?" He challenges, not taking his eyes off of his book.

I hum. "Think my pancakes are ready?" I ask, giving him an out that he takes, albeit hesitantly.

"I'll go check." He says, walking much slower than he did the first time on his way to the kitchen. This time when he walks out, he has my plate with him and my eyes light up as my mouth waters at the sight.

"Thank you," I say when he puts it down and he moves to leave but I stop him. "Come sit."

"I'm...working." He says and I bite my lips to hide a smile. Nodding in understanding.

"Right. Places to be, people to serve." I fork a bite into my mouth to keep from laughing at the poor guy's apprehension. He nods, rushing off with a cloth to wipe down the already clear tables, so I use the chance to watch. He's wearing pants that strain against his thighs, and I wonder what this guy does in the gym to look like that.

Eventually, he stops, chancing at glance at me to which I don't look away. Pursing his lips, he looks like he's about to pass out as he approaches his earlier spot.

"Good?" He asks, and I nod, steamrolling him into a conversation about Psycho in between bites of my food. When I'm done, I tuck a hundred-dollar bill beneath my plate as he grabs the machine for me to pay with.

I find myself hesitant to go home, but I pick up my helmet and walk towards the exit. "Goodnight, Aaron," I call out with my hand on the door, pulling it open and waiting to see if he replies.

"Night, Maddison." He says quietly as he looks at the counter where my empty plate and the money is, then back to me.

When I get back to my empty off-campus apartment, I throw my keys into a steel dish by the door, kick off my boots, and pad into the living room to collapse onto the couch. Just as I start to nod off, I realize that I never told Aaron my name.