"Honey, please take Audrey with you," my aunt pleads for what seems like the hundredth time. I'm sitting on the stairs, a book in my hands, watching Josh argue with his mom. "I don't want to leave her home alone."

"Then take her with you," Josh says, spinning the basketball on his finger. He's wearing jeans but is claiming that he's going to play basketball with Todd.

"You know I can't do that," my aunt says quietly. Theodore comes and sits beside me, holding up a foam ball before laughing loudly. I take it from him and lightly toss it to Mary who doesn't catch it. It rolls away and she chases after it, her brother running behind her.

"Guys, it's fine. I can stay home alone," I say but my aunt dismisses me with a wave of her hand. Apparently, my uncle is taking the kids out to eat. Josh had politely refused, while I was not invited. It's no big deal. Jumping off a cliff into a pile of cacti is better than eating dinner with my uncle.

"Josh, I will pull the grounded card," my aunt warns, raising her eyebrow and crossing her arms. She is wearing an elegant red dress that reaches just above her knees. Around her neck, there are string of pearls that compliment her beautiful eyes.

"Whatever. You can come with me," Josh says to me, tossing the ball angrily into the air. "Just hurry up, okay? I'm waiting downstairs." He slams the door behind him and his mom frowns but doesn't say anything. I scramble up the stairs without waiting for my aunt to apologize for her son's behavior. My cousin is acting as if he would rather jump off a bridge than bring me with him. I feel like a child.

I change into a pair of jeans and pull on my baggy green sweater, muttering to myself. Grabbing my backpack, I give Mary a kiss and rush out the door. Downstairs, Josh waves me to a beat-up blue truck in which a dark figure is hunched over the wheel. He's wearing a beanie and I smile, thinking about the video games that we played last night. When I come to stand beside Josh, Blake lets out an audible groan. "You're brining your cousin?" Blake asks, slightly annoyed.

The smile on my face falters and I cross my arms in disappointment, feeling embarrassed and unwelcome. "It's not my fault. My mom made me," Josh answers, pulling the door open for me and gesturing me inside. He looks up at the building before climbing in after me.

"Are you sure about this?" Blake says, putting the car into drive and pulling out onto the road. His car smells good, a mix of his cologne and wood.

"It's nice to see you too, Blake," I mutter, wrapping my arms around my bag.

"What's up, Moore? How was your test?" he asks, grinning at me.

"It was good," I answer. "Where are you guys even going?"

"A party," Blake responds as he stops at a red light.

"I thought you were playing basketball with Todd," I say, turning to look at Josh. The ball he brought is sitting between his feet and he just shrugs his shoulders. A smug look spreads across his face.

Blake snorts. "Josh lies a lot."

"Shut up. I'm only going to the party because the last one I went to was weeks ago," Josh mutters, snapping his seatbelt in place.

"It's Monday night and you guys are going to a party. Not cool," I huff, feeling stupid about bringing my backpack. I thought that I might get some homework done while Josh played basketball with Todd. My attempt to stay out of their hair.

"Someone is mad," Blake says. He's acting different, more laid back than usual. There are so many sides to Blake that I'm having trouble keeping up.

"Audrey doesn't get mad. She just gets mildly irritated," Josh sings, leaning over to look at his friend. They both laugh and I slump in my seat.

"Why go to a party today of all days?" I ask, my cheeks burning from the attention.

"Blake is filling in for the band's bassist," Josh answers as he scrolls through his phone.

"Really?" I ask, sitting up in my seat. Ever since Blake mentioned his interest in music during English class, I have wanted to hear him play. "I didn't know you played bass."

"I usually mess around with the guitar. I just recently picked up the bass," Blake says. His truck groans when he makes a dangerous turn, causing us to lean to the left.

"You're a shit driver, you know that?" Josh yells, grabbing the door handle.

"I'm a great driver. Right, Moore?" Blake laughs and jerks the wheel to the right. The truck wobbles, making me squeal and close my eyes.

"Yep. A great driver!" I shout, slapping Josh's arm lightly.

"Calm down, bro! You're going to kill us," Josh adds furiously. Blake slows down, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as we approach a large house on a hill. He finds a parking spot and jumps out without waiting for us. He's wearing black from head to toe and blends in with the dark night.

"They got the bass for you?" Josh asks and Blake nods. I leave my bag in the truck and follow them into the house. When the heat of sweaty bodies and the smell of weed hits me, I cringe and cover my face.

"Can I wait in the car?" I question.

"You'll be fine. Just don't wander off," Blake says. He vanishes into the crowd and I trail after him with Josh at my side. Someone hands me a beer bottle and I take it; not sure what else I should do with it. In front of me a few kids slap Blake's back and he smiles at them. When we reach the kitchen, Blake comes to a stop, turning to look at Josh and I. "Okay, dudes. You guys just hang out for a bit and we'll get the hell out of here after I play a few songs with the band."

From the look on his face it's obvious that he doesn't want to be here. His eyes, however, are full of anticipation and excitement. "When are we going to leave?" I ask, wrapping my hands around the bottle in my hands.

"In a little bit. Just watch the drinking," Blake says, pointing at the bottle in my hands.

"I don't...never mind," I mumble, placing the bottle on the counter.

"I don't mean you," Blake says while tipping his head at Josh. "Dude thinks he's such a party animal." Josh frowns, pulling the beer bottle away from his lips. He flicks his middle finger at Blake and goes to the sink.

"What are you guys going to play?" I ask Blake, trying to calm my nerves.

"I'm not really sure, actually," Blake answers, running his fingers through his hair. After a few minutes we go into the backyard where a band of three are setting up on a small stage. I want to wait in the kitchen but I also want to hear Blake play. The backyard is large and lined with pixie lights that twinkle like the stars. The fences around the yard are covered with streamers. On one of the fences there is a poorly made sign that reads Happy Birthday in block letters.

Blake gives us a salute and saunters towards the band, giving one of the members a man-hug. "The dude that Blake just hugged was a student of Blake's mom," Josh says beside me. He has to lean down slightly to talk over the loud music.

I look at the guy. He's a few years older than Blake and has blonde hair that reaches his shoulders.

"So, Blake's mom was a teacher?" I ask sadly. Josh nods and swings his head back for another sip of his beer. The bottle is almost empty. "Josh, watch the drinking. It's Monday night." He just shrugs.

"She was a music teacher," he continues, squinting his eyes. The loud music is turned off inside the house and is replaced with the chatter of people. Everyone piles outside, laughing and letting out cheers. They shove each other as they swarm toward where the band is. Josh guides me to the side where Blake is standing, his face etched with a look of concentration.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" the blonde guy says, his voice deep and rough. People scream in response and the blonde guy grins. "I'm Matt and we're the Flame Throwers!" The drumming gets louder and Matt bounces a little bit, pulling the mike free from the stand.

"We love you, Matt!" a girl screams and he grins, scanning the crowd.

"There is a special someone in the crowd today. I heard it's her birthday," Matt says into the mike, waiting for the people to calm down. "Hannah! Happy 20th from the Flame Throwers."

Blake plays a short baseline which is followed by the steady beat of the drum. Matt presses his mouth into the mike and belts out a string of lyrics. His voice is too soft for the song but it's not too bad. People howl while he sings about love lost and about his struggle to forget her. Blake easily moves his slender fingers across the neck of the bass, adding a strong rhythm to the song. He's good. I wonder how long he has been playing the bass.

"He's really good," I say, turning to look at Josh. He's moving along to the music, cheering with the crowd. It was a bad idea to stand so close to the stage. My hands are sweating and I can feel the vibration of the instruments in my bones. Blake searches the crowd for Josh and I, his fingers slowing down on the bass. Matt stops singing and the drums fall silent.

For a second, I think that the song is done but then I hear the low rumble of the bass. Blake moves his fingers quickly over his instrument and leans his head back at the sound. His eyes are closed. The hum of the instrument is beautiful and mesmerizing. People scream Blake's name and I realize that this isn't the first time Blake has played with the Flame Throwers.

Someone yells, "You suck, man! Where's Patel?" That must be the band's actual bassist. I clench my jaw at the comment. His solo is short, followed by Matt singing the chorus and then the final verse of the song. The crowd goes crazy and Matt bows, his hair flying.

My gaze meets Blake's eyes and I beam, giving him a thumbs up. He nods at me before downing a bottle of water. I fall back slightly, wanting to get away from the crowd, and I lose sight of Josh. The band plays another song and I wander to one of the fences. Leaning against it my eyes close as I try to focus on the sound of the bass.

A good bassist can add something great to a band, a bad one can take away from it. I think Blake is making this alright band way better than it actually is. I stay beside the fence for a few more songs before the atmosphere gets to me.

The house is empty except for a couple making out in the living room and a boy playing video games. Water. I need to drink water. As I consider waiting in Blake's truck, the boy from the living room stumbles into the kitchen. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

"Um...hi?" I say. He licks his lips and squints his bloodshot eyes. My heart starts pounding in my chest at the way the boy is looking at me.

"I'm Travis," he says, walking towards me. My fingers wrap around my necklace and I step back, my back pressing against the fridge.

"Nice to meet you, Travis. I'm Audrey," I say slowly, feeling a chill run down my spine at his words.

"How old are you?" he asks, coming so close to me that I can smell the booze on his breath. I stay quiet and he grabs my wrists roughly, pressing me against the fridge. A weight drops in my stomach and my eyes widen. "I said, how old are you?" He brings his face near mine and I turn away.

"Sixteen," I whisper. His breath fans across my cheek and I scrunch my eyes, trying to remember the self-defense classes my mom made me take last year.

"Shit, you're young," he mumbles, pressing his body onto mine. I struggle under his hold but he's too strong. Gripping me tighter he says, "Didn't your mom ever tell you to play nice?" Something inside of me snaps and I bring my knee up to his groin. His hand loosens as he hunches over and I take the moment to move past him. A stray tear cascades down my cheek and I angrily wipe at it.

I'm not watching in front of me and I almost crash into Blake. "Moore? How were the Flame Throwers?" he says, smiling down at me. His eyebrows furrow when he sees my face. I look away and press my wrist to my chest. "You're crying. What happened?"

"They were good," I say but he ignores me. Carefully taking my wrist, he examines it. Angry red marks in the shape of fingers wrap around my wrist. Blake looks behind me to where Travis is still kneeling over beside the fridge.

"That asshole," he seethes, moving past me. He pulls Travis up and shoves him against the fridge.

"What's your problem, Travis?" Blake spits, glaring at Travis who just grins.

"She's with you? I'm just having some fun with Audrey," Travis slurs. "She has sexy green eyes."

"Fuck off," Blake mutters, punching Travis in the nose. A groan escapes his lips as he tries to shove Blake. Anger flashes through his eyes and he slams Travis against the wall, punching him again.

"Stop it!" I yell to Blake but he doesn't listen. A heavy feeling settles in my chest at the sight of him beating someone, even if it's someone like Travis. "Blake!" I shout, reaching out to him. He waves my arm away and I take a step back, fear bubbling inside of me.

"Calm down, man!" Travis yells, throwing a punch at Blake.

"Stop it, Blake!" I try again. A thought occurs to me and I decide to go with it. "How would your mom feel about this?" I shout. Blake freezes, his arms falling to his sides as he turns to face me. Behind him, I gesture to Travis to get out of here. Though a small part of me wants to personally beat him up. He doesn't protest and scurries away.

"What did you say?" Blake asks, dragging his hand across his lips. It comes down smeared with blood. I look away and cross my arms.

"Are you okay?" I ask, feeling tired. My heart is beating fast and I really don't want to be alone with him right now. "You can't just go around beating people up."

"Why did you even come with us?" he spits, walking to the sink to wash his hands.

"I can take care of myself," I say quietly. "Not sure if I can say the same about you."

"You don't even know me," he whispers.

"I know that you take pleasure in beating people up." Folding a paper towel, I hand it to him and keep my eyes set on the scruffy white tiles.

"Only when there is a good reason to," he says, taking the paper towel from me and pressing it against his face.

"Where is Josh?" I mumble, walking to the door that leads to the backyard. Josh stumbles inside, a bottle of vodka in his left hand. Gently pulling the bottle away from him, I guide him to a chair.

"We should probably head back now. I told the guy to watch the drinking," Blake says, bending in front of his friend.

"I thought you had to play a few songs with the Flame Throwers," I say, pouring Josh a glass of water. He blinks rapidly and wraps his hands around the cup. He stays quiet.

"They only paid me to play four songs with them," Blake says, holding up four fingers and then helping Josh to his feet. "Besides, Josh is wasted and you might get yourself into some more trouble." The comment fuels my rage toward him but I bite my tongue and lead them outside. It's in that moment I decide that I don't like Blake like this, full of fury and ready to tear down anyone that stands in his way.