Then get out of the fucking door, sis.

Oh, wait. She won’t, because she’s a masochist like me.

Teal and Elsa are blushing as they watch me and Cole.

Aiden brings out his phone and directs it at us. “Let me commemorate the moment.”

That’s when I realise the position Cole and I are in. I’m grabbing him by the cheeks and he’s staring at me with a bored expression that matches Aiden’s.

“Any second now,” the latter says. “If this can help with your case at the human rights court of law, you have my blessing.”

“Mine, too.” Cole smirks. “I’ll take one for the team.”

“Fuck you both.” I shove Cole away.

I should bleach the colour of his eyes so this shit never happens again.

“Where’s Green?” I ask Elsa, who’s still watching me and Cole as if expecting the show to resume.

Seriously, as much as guys enjoy fantasising about girls together, I’m pretty sure girls fantasise about boys together, too. They’re just not as vocal about it.

That was the Sherlock in me. Now, he’s going to sleep.

Aiden and Cole exchange looks, smiling like two little psychos.

“Green?” Elsa repeats. “Who’s Green?”

Fuck. I said that out loud? I must be drunk out of my mind. I need to get the fuck out of here before I word vomit everything.

“Yeah, Knight.” Aiden feigns nonchalance. “Who’s Green?”

“I think I heard that name somewhere.” Cole taps his chin. “When we were young and –”

I punch him in the shoulder, cutting him off mid-sentence. The fucker is bored and out to destroy lives because of it.

There’s no way in shit I’ll be the next victim of his sociopathic boredom.

“I know where she is,” I whisper so only he can hear.

“She?” Cole repeats with a semi-serious tone.

“Yes, the she.” I raise an eyebrow. “She went with Ronan.”

And with that, I’m out of the scene.

People hit two birds with one stone, I hit three.

One, I made Cole shut the fuck up. Two, I escaped his and Aiden’s circle of sociopathic tendencies. Three, I directed his wrath towards that little bastard, Ronan.

I swear I come up with the best ideas when I’m drunk.

On my way out, I steal some boy’s cup of alcohol, down it, then steal another one.

They don’t even protest. No one attempts to put a brake on whatever the hell I’m spiralling into. No one dares to punch a minister’s son to teach him some sense.

Fuck you, Dad.

Somewhere along the way, I find myself heading to the garden. The music fades as the chill wraps around me, but instead of waking me up, it turns me a bit more drunk.

On the night, the stars, the fucking world.

You suck, world. You really, really suck.

I throw away the last cup and head to a small covered porch at the back. Kids don’t wander around the area because a) it’s cold, b) Ronan will skin them alive, and c) did I mention it’s fucking freezing.

So I’m surprised to find someone there. She’s dancing, earbuds in her ears and hair flying behind her.

Not someone.

Her.

The one I can’t have.

The only one I can’t fucking have, but I still find myself roaming around and watching anyway.

Her dress falls to her knees but is tight at the waist, showing off the lines of her soft curves.

She’s there, up for the taking, and for whatever scenarios my mind is conjuring at a supersonic speed.

I should go, leave, never return.

But I take a step towards her instead.

I can’t have her, but that doesn’t mean I can’t play with her.

Love is impossible, but hate is an open game.

10

Kimberly

My eyes are closed as I let the music take me away from my physical shackles.

Magic by Coldplay drums in my ears and it’s almost like that – magic. The lyrics speak so much to me and to the person I’ve been. It becomes a bit painful to listen, to be that fool who still believes in magic.

Music is the only thing that keeps my head afloat and somehow manages to keep the fog at bay.

Ever since I walked into the party and saw Summer rubbing herself all over Xander, I’ve been having these small bursts of nothingness.

I know I came to confront him, and I’ll do that, but I need to calm the hell down first.

The shot of tequila didn’t work, being with Elsa didn’t, and Ronan, my own tailored distraction, is nowhere to be found, so music is my only reprieve.

I let it float me away as the melody fills my ears and my senses. My body moves of its own accord as I take refuge in the darkness and the cold, knowing no one will come out here in the middle of this wind.

As soon as this song ends, I’ll walk back in there and tell Summer off. If she doesn’t leave, I’ll punch her like I did her friend – or not. I really don’t want to witness that same expression on Mum’s face again.

It’s enough for one day.

Anyway, I’ll just push Summer away and demand he explain whatever the hell he sent me in texts.

In and out. It’ll be in a place full of people and I’ll be able to disappear in no time.

I nod to myself and pluck out my earbuds as I turn around, determination bubbling in my veins.

My feet halt automatically when my eyes meet those ocean-deep ones. The ones filled with magic that I can’t stop believing in.

With arms and ankles crossed, he’s leaning against the tree right behind me, as if he’s been watching the entire show.

Wait. He was?

The light coming from the huge mansion casts shadows over his features. I swallow, still trying to get over the fact he’s been there all along.

The hell? Since when did he become such a creep?

And why are you secretly happy about it?

If he’s a creep and I like it, what does that make me?

“Don’t stop on my account.” He twirls his finger. “How do you do that thing with your hips?”

I blush, and I’m so glad he won’t be able to see it due to the lack of lighting.

“It’s like a belly dancer. Is that what you practice late at night?”

My head snaps up. “How do you know that?”

He can’t possibly be watching me, because his room always has its dark curtains pulled down.

“I think we’ve established that I know a lot of shit about you.” He pushes off the tree, and my body instinctively tightens.

The way he stalks towards me is nothing short of a predator. Someone with the need to hurt and destroy. Someone who’s after me, not anything else, just me.

Still, I speak in the most neutral tone I can afford. “Why?”

“Why?” he repeats, lifting one of his brows.

“Why do you know a lot of shit about me?”

“That’s the question of the century, isn’t it? Why?” He stops when his chest nearly brushes against mine.

This close, I can breathe the stench of vodka on him, strong and unyielding like everything else about him.

He’s drunk. No, he’s wasted. I’m surprised he was able to walk that small distance from the tree to here or even sound relatively normal.