“You don’t want problems? Don’t fucking bring any.”

“I was coming here with or without Oakley,” I inform him. “But hey, if me being here annoys you so much…you should really try to ignore me.” I trail a finger down my bare arm. “Unless I have so much of a hold on you, you won’t be able to enjoy yourself. In which case, I suggest you seek professional help.” I cast him a look filled with mock sympathy. “It’s not healthy to be so obsessed with someone who’s no longer in your life.”

I don’t realize the horrible way my words could be misconstrued until I see a flicker of pain etched in his features.

“Jace, I didn—”

“No.” My stomach drops when he smiles, showcasing that deep dimple of his, and picks up the bottle of soda. “You’re right.” Faster than I can blink, he walks over and pours the soda over my head. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Britney and her friend laugh like hyenas as he throws his empty bottle in my direction and stalks off.

“Someone is obsessed,” Britney sneers. “But it’s definitely not Jace.”

Sawyer grabs a roll of paper towels off the table and hands them to me.

“Thanks.” I start dabbing as much of the excess liquid off me as I can.

“Okay.” Cole rubs his hands. “I’m going in the hot tub, who’s coming?”

“Me,” the girl next to him coos.

“I’ll see if Jace wants to,” Britney chimes in. “If not, we’ll probably head back to my house so I can make him feel better…you know, since someone ruined his night.”

It takes a substantial amount of effort to ignore her.

Oakley looks at me. “A quick dip might help you get cleaned up.”

I’d really love to know what universe he’s living in, because in mine, I’m not taking a quick dip in a hot tub with Jace’s brother or Britney’s BFF for any reason.

“Seriously, Oakley?” Britney snaps. “Unless you want Jace to kick your ass, stop inviting her places. She’s not welcome. And if you keep it up, you won’t be either.”

Her friend pops a hand on her hip. “Same goes for her fat ass friend.”

“Chill,” Cole says. “Sawyer didn’t even do anything.”

They both ignore him.

“God.” Britney tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Can you imagine seeing that blob in a hot tub?”

“Water is a whale’s natural habitat,” her friend says smugly.

Sawyer turns red with embarrassment.

I, however, am seeing red.

Especially when Sawyer’s lower lip begins to tremble.

“Fuck them,” I tell her. “They’re just jealous.”

“Of what?” Britney’s side-kick cackles. “Congestive heart failure and diabetes? No thanks.”

“Awe,” Britney coos. “I think she’s gonna cry.”

Anger brews in my gut. Britney’s the most vile, miserable person I’ve ever met in my life, and I’m so tired of her thinking she’s so much better than everyone else.

She’s like a fungus that keeps growing, infecting everyone with her cancer.

But she’s spread far enough. No way in hell am I going to stand here and let her keep hurting my friend.

I clench my hands. Whoever talks next is the first one going down.

Side-kick crinkles her nose. “Oh my God. She is. Lard ball is totally cry—”

A fist flies into her mouth.

Only, it isn’t mine.

It’s Sawyer’s.

And my girl packs quite a punch because she knocks her to the floor.

Baring her teeth, Sawyer looks down at her. “I might be crying, but you’re the one who’s bleeding…bitch.”

The girl lunges for her, but Sawyer’s got the advantage and climbs on top of her.

Britney pushes me. “Get that fat ass off my friend before she suffocates her.”

A red mist washes over my vision. This has been a long time coming.

I grab a handful of her red hair. “Eat a bag of dicks, fire crotch.”

And then I drive my fist into her nose.

Chapter 22

Dylan

“That was awesome,” Sawyer says from her spot on the bathroom floor.

Despite the throbbing in my hand and the blood trickling from my lip due to the one and only punch Britney landed, I have to agree.

For almost fifteen minutes, Sawyer stood up for herself, and I got to pummel the shit out of my childhood terrorizer.

Things got so crazy, a circle of partygoers formed around us, and someone changed the music to the Rocky theme song.

Cole and Oakley tried their best to break it up, but whenever they’d pull me or Sawyer off, we’d start tag-teaming to ensure Britney and her friend wouldn’t have the upper hand.

It got so bad they had to call Jace for backup because half the people around didn’t want to get involved and the other half didn’t want to stop the entertainment.

The look on Jace’s face when he pried me off his little girlfriend then peeled her off the floor was priceless.

I pet the lock of red hair on the bathroom sink. “We even managed to get a souvenir.”

Laughing, she heaves herself off the floor. “We’re gonna be so sore tomorrow.”

I wince as I check out my knuckles. Nothing is broken, but they are swollen and bruised. “Tell me about it. Technically this is my second fight in a week.”

She holds out her hand and helps me up. “You should start training professionally.”

“Only if I can use Britney as my punching bag.”

I turn on the faucet and wash my face since it’s still sticky from the soda Jace poured on me.

“Shit,” Sawyer says as she looks at her watch. “It’s one-fifteen. I’m gonna be late for curfew.”

Crap. We’ve been holed up in the bathroom gathering our bearings and time must have slipped away from us.

She takes out her phone. “I’m gonna text my dad and tell him I’ll be home as soon as I drop you off.”

“No, I can hitch a ride with Oakley. If you leave now, you’ll make it home on time.”

She eyes me warily. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you stranded here. Plus, Oakley’s been drinking.”

“He has, but I haven’t. I’m sure he’ll have no problem with me driving.”

After giving her a quick hug goodbye, I walk her to her van and search for my step-cousin.

I figured he’d still be in the living room, but there’s no sign of him. In fact, half the people who were here are gone now, and I’m seriously hoping he isn’t one of them.

I walk over to two guys sitting on a couch. Their red eyes and the way they’re slouched over—not to mention the big ass bong they’re sharing—tells me they’re Oakley’s people and they might be able to tell me where he’d be.

“Hey.”

The guy wearing a beanie lifts his head. “Oh, shit. It’s you.” He slaps his friend’s shoulder. “It’s the cousin fucker who beat up that Britney chick before.”

If I never hear the term cousin fucker again in my life, it will be too soon.