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being able to breathe through the dribble of vomit I’d sucked into my lungs. How my heart pounded so hard against my ribs, I swore they’d crack open and all my guts would spill out onto the floor. “There’s no way I’m taking one of those things. And I don’t want to watch you take them, either.”
    “Fine,” he says, though it’s obvious this is anything but fine. I try to grab his hand, but he brushes me off and shoves Alex in my direction. “Hang out with these guys, then.”
    My mouth drops open. “James!”
    But he’s already barging back down the hallway. I watch him push through the crowd until I see his blond head vanish through the door. There’s no way I’ll find him outside if he doesn’t want to be found.
    Sam stares after my brother looking like he wants to punch something, but his eyes soften when he turns back to me. “You okay?”
    I haven’t been okay for a long time, and Sam’s concerned expression isn’t helping me hide from that fact. Afraid he’ll see through me, I focus on an unruly chunk of his dark hair threatening to fall forward into his eyes.
    Alex rubs the back of his neck and grimaces. “Actually, there’s something I promised the guys I’d do before I got too messed up to do it. You cool hanging out for a bit?”
    Judging by the emptiness taking hold of Alex’s eyes, “messed up” might come sooner than he expects. I force myself to nod. “We’ll be fine.”
    “Then I’ll catch you two love birds later,” Alex says with a wink.
    Humiliation burns a path from my neck to my cheeks. Of all the horrible things to say…
    “Sorry about that,” Sam says when Alex lumbers away. Looking pretty embarrassed himself, he crouches beside the beanbag chair, arms resting on his knees. “There are some pretty cool trails on Leslie’s property. We could go for a walk if you want. Unless you’d rather hang out here?”
    I blink up at him. He wants to be alone with me? From what I’ve gathered, “alone” is a code word for “hooking up.”
    “Are you serious?”
    “Very.” He nods toward the couple in the back corner who have gotten louder in the thirty seconds we’ve been in the room. Definitely not making out anymore.
    And he looks embarrassed, not interested.
    “Oh. Right.” I want to kick myself when I realize how far I’d let my imagination take me. As if he’d drag me off into the forest to do what they’re doing.
    He holds his hand out and gives me a grateful smile. Sliding my fingers into his warm, calloused palm, I remind myself he’s just helping me up. He’ll let go the second I’m on my feet, because, to Sam, I’m nothing more than his best friend’s little sister.
    Except, he doesn’t.

Seven
    Sam Donavon is holding my hand. Not the hand of one of the much prettier girls prancing around the living room, but mine. In public.
    And he doesn’t seem embarrassed.
    If the shock doesn’t kill me, my sudden inability to breathe will.
    Wait. Maybe he’s waiting for me to let go?
    Stomach tumbling at the thought, I loosen my death grip so he can shake his hand free, but he doesn’t. When he laces our fingers together and smiles, any hope of catching my breath fizzles out.
    Definitely death by asphyxiation.
    On the porch, Sam and I skirt around a group of guys wrapping entire packs of sparklers in duct tape. Alex, standing in the center of them all with his graduation gown tied like a pirate bandana around his head, gives me a nothing-to-see-here grin that puts me on edge. Third period Trig last semester passed in a flurry of pranks which usually resulted in Alex being sent to the principal’s office, and our teacher, frumpy spinster-in-training Miss Rabidon, sobbing to the counselor about mean-spirited children.
    If he’s plotting something, I know better than to stick around.
    “Homemade bombs,” Sam tells me when we reach his car. “Leslie will kick Alex’s ass if he sets those off out here. The county is dying for a reason to bust her.”
    He