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sees in the crowd. A body peels away from the dance floor and makes its way over. Covered in a full arm-and-neck tattoo sleeve, ridiculously oversized shirt, skinny jeans and a heavy gold chain his neck doesn’t appear capable of supporting for very long, a wimpy rap-star wannabe answers Maria’s call. Spence and I exchange what-the-fuck looks when his immature ass sits down and grabs the vodka bottle without invitation.
    “You remember Ryan Algood, right?” Maria prompts hopefully.
    “Carly, what up, girl?” He leans over for a sweaty hug. I pull away.
    “No, I don’t.” I put some distance between us.
    “I played your neighbor on seasons four and five.” He says this like it means everything. Like we share DNA or something.
    “He was my first on-screen kiss!” Maria adds with a drunken giggle. I’m still blank.
    “Oh, yeah. Sure, I remember you,” I lie, hoping it will make him go away. All I want is to sit here and peacefully drown my sorrows in the comfort of a hundred strangers without being disturbed.
    “I’m a rapper now. You’ve probably heard me on the radio.” He throws up what looks like a gang sign to a posse of guys grinding against bleach blonde bimbos. They return it like the thugs they think they are. I cannot keep myself from laughing in his face. He doesn’t get the joke’s on him, smiling and laughing along with me.
    “Good for you.” I pick up my phone like something urgent just came in. He nuzzles Maria’s ear. She playfully tosses her hair, flirting for some unknown reason.
    “We’re going to dance,” she announces without taking her eyes off him. I wave goodbye without looking up.
    “You should go,” I say to Spence. I point to the two idiots on the dance floor. “He might steal your girl.”
    Spence shrugs in an as-if way. “I don’t dance. Not even for a piece of ass. If Maria wants that douche bag, I don’t want her.” I punch his arm for referring to my BFF as a piece of tail and settle against the booth back. He reaches into his pocket to powder his nose.
    I lick my lips when the white powder pours over his hand. Last night’s high was glorious. Exactly what I needed to forget him . Spence could probably be talked into indulging me again. If not, I’m sure flirting with Ryan’s idiot posse would relieve their pockets of a line or two. So why am I not pulling my tits out and sucking every grain I can find up my nose?
    We’ve got an insatiable need...
    My asshole father’s words echo in my ear. It’s the last thing I want to hear, but it stops me. Not because I want to do anything he says. Hell, if he told me not to light myself on fire I’d strike a match just to spite him. That’s how much I hate the son of a bitch. It’s the memory of his eyes—our eyes—that stops me. Ruining my life with drugs means he wins. Him and that sick, pathetic fuck. Keeping my shit together gives me the victory. Last night I screwed up. Tonight I’m stronger than that...I hope.
    Ten minutes later, I’m about to crawl out of my vodka-soaked skin. Forgetting Devon Hayes is impossible without hard drugs. Stupidly, my drunken brain tries to interpret tonight’s sign from God. Regardless of what Ernest said, I know Devon’s looks. He was happy to see me. I was happy to see him. We are totally meant to be together. He just needs reminding.
    I scroll through my phone to find our text chain. Our last message was like 24 hours ago. He was excited about the gala.
    So excited he ignored me all night. The memory angers me enough to calm my itchy fingers. I throw the phone at my purse. No, he doesn’t get the satisfaction of knowing he’s ruined my night out. At that moment, the party gods smile on me and the lights come on, signaling last call. I breathe a sigh of relief.
    A black SUV waits outside, but we have to scale a wall of photographers to get there. On Maria’s insistence Spence guides a barely standing Ryan through the crowd. Apparently, the douche bag has charmed his way