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stupid party isn’t part of it.”
    I need to go before he weakens my defenses even more. He jerks back when I sit down and pull the door closed. Once it shuts, I turn on the ignition, ready to leave.
    “Fine. Whatever. Have a good life, future business leader of America.”
    My hands fall away from the steering wheel, and before I know what I’m doing, I rip a piece of paper from the notebook on my passenger seat and write my phone number down.
    He pauses when I hold the paper out. Looks down at it and then back at me. “I don’t need this. I’m not trying to be a dick, but I’m not really the kind of guy who’s going to call and spend hours talking to you on the phone every night. I’m not going to be your boyfriend. Find someone else for that.”
    Ugh. Of course he would think that’s why I’m giving it to him. Actually, my only thought was that refusing to go to a party with some guy, only to hear about him killing himself driving drunk or worse , isn’t in my plan.
    I shove it into his hand. “And I’m not the kind of girl who sits around waiting to talk to a guy on the phone all night, either. I have much more important things going on than that. You’re going to a party. I’m assuming you’ll be drunk. If you need…well, you saved my life once, so I guess I owe it to you to return the favor. If you need a ride, call. Please. If not, feel free to lose it.”
    This time I don’t hold myself back from driving away. When I get to the end of his driveway, my eyes dance toward the rearview mirror. He’s standing where I left him, watching my car as I go.
    Shaking all thoughts of boys with intense, multi-colored eyes, bad attitudes and pierced lips from my brain, I drive home.
    Three hours later, I sit in the middle of my bed, with an open document in front of me. I haven’t written a word of my speech. I tried going over the agenda for the next student council meeting as well, but the words go in, tumble around and then escape before I can process them.
    I wonder what the guy in the car was so serious about—his brother? Definitely because they looked the same, minus the piercings.  Same attitude.  Same hair color.  Same build.
    I wonder why pierced-lip boy went rigid when his brother spoke.
    I wonder why I can’t stop thinking about him.
    Just stop, I tell myself. I am in control of what I feel. I always will be. Refusing to sit here doing nothing a second longer, my fingers move across the keyboard and I make myself get to work.
     
     

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    ~Ryder~
    We’re partying at Tanner’s house tonight. He’s the only one of us with money. His house is probably bigger than mine, Drea, Shane and Cody’s combined. The only reason Tanner even goes to school with us is because he got kicked out of his private school.
    His parents decided they didn’t want him to embarrass them around their country club friends anymore, so they sent him to school in the ghetto. Tanner’s parents are out of town. It wouldn’t surprise me if they have the cops do drive-bys while they’re gone, but Tanner doesn’t seem to give a fuck, so I don’t either.
    “You’re up, Ryder.” Shane leans back in his chair as I sit forward. After drawing a card, I put my winning hand on the table and grin.
    “Shit. I’m not playing this with you anymore. You always kick everyone’s ass.” Shane groans and pushes to his feet. “Let’s go out back.”
    The other people at the table, most of whom we don’t know, stay there. Shane and I make our way to the backyard. People are everywhere, most of them congregating by the two kegs on either end of the lawn.
    Shane walks around to the side of the house and unlatches the gate. Most people wouldn’t know to come back here, except our friends. There’s a small table with two chairs. Shane takes one of them, but I lean against the side of the house.
    He pulls his pipe out of his pocket, packs it, and takes a hit. “How’s shit with Luke? He still being a dick?”
    Yeah.