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IT WAS LOUD.

Of course, I expected as much, but there was trouble with adjusting to the feeling. There were plenty of other things I wasn't used to. Like how I was never used to seeing so many people in my house, or any house for that matter. But Carter and I's houses were both almost identical so it was like getting that very image, even if I didn't want it in my head. I could only imagine the tornado of a storm they would leave behind in his kitchen and living room. I had already kicked an empty can of beer with my foot on the way in, making me almost stumble over and making Carter look at me with a concern in his eyes that was not very comforting to me.

"Lighten up," he said, punching my shoulder playfully. "You wanted to come, right? I have to talk to some friends who have been waiting to see me, but get yourself a drink, they're over there on the far table."

And with that, he disappeared into the dark crowd as his friends swallowed him whole and I was left alone to fend for myself on the empty and vulnerable side of the room. Way to treat your guests, Abrams.

The far table that he was talking about wasn't very far at all, I just had to squeeze my way around all of the people who found themselves congregated towards the middle of the room. On my way over there, I cursed myself for getting into this predicament. I had my low moments, but I was never so desperate that I would venture out of my comfort zone like this. First of all, I was looking for a distraction with help from none other than Carter Abrams. And secondly, I let him convince me to wear a dress which I felt like I looked silly in among all of these gorgeous party girls. Now I stood at the fringes of the crowd and I knew I would have to fight my way through it all if I wanted that drink he promised me.

I was hoping that maybe, someone would take a break from dancing or talking to realize that I was trying to get past them. Of course, there seemed to be no chance in the whole, wide world of that happening. The couple dancing in front of me even started to make out with each other so now both of their eyes were closed.

The sight of them made me realize why I was here in the first place: because the one person I used to kiss like that — except with a lot more class — had dumped me out of the blue tonight. How had I become so wrapped up in my own memory so quickly that I had lost sight of what had caused it in the first place? Of course, remembering Landon ruining my life the way he did contributed nothing to this situation except made my desire to get drunk even more intense.

I took a deep breath, clenching my eyelids shut for a quick second before letting them detach, taking in the sight of the crowd before me. Physical strength definitely wasn't my strong suit, no pun intended, so I didn't know how I would fare against a throng of drunk and horny teenagers when about half of them could've been twice my size. I had bony elbows that would come in handy, but they could only get me so far.

But first I needed to find a way in, someone whose body mass seemed similar enough to mine that I could shove past them without being knocked over onto my ass — or even worse, my face.

While contemplating this, a hand clamped itself down on my shoulder tightly. Because of how wired I was from trying to psych myself up to mow down a crowd, my first instinct was to turn with my right hand and connect it with whoever was trying to sneak up on me while I was alone and defenseless. I had heard enough stories about creepy men at high school and college parties, so I didn't want my first foray into the lifestyle to be a misadventure. Of course, this thinking only lead to my fist being caught by Carter Abrams' free one, and a cocky grin on his face mixed with equal parts surprise and satisfaction.

"I'd like to assume you were expecting someone else," he chuckled, his grip on my fist tightening and the feeling of his skin against mine lingering. "You have other enemies besides me, right?"

I rolled my eyes at him and his audacity. Not only was he not who I was expecting when I threw that punch, but he was not my only enemy. Landon was definitely up there tonight, especially since I had no explanation as to why he broke up with me.

"C'mon, you're at one of my parties," he said coyly, "what's the worst that could happen to you, Casey?"

My hand felt as if it were heating up in his, partly because the dense concentration of sweaty teenagers in the room was enough to raise the temperature a couple degrees, and partly from the blood rushing through each and every vein, faster and faster as the embarrassment at my situation spread. He was looking at me in a way so simple, but it felt as if there was so much more I couldn't even fathom behind it. I couldn't even say there was something in my drink because I was stone cold sober, there was just something about Carter Abrams in this moment that made him hard to look away from.

But then I did, swiveling my head away so that my eyes were pointed towards the floor — and inconveniently on a puddle of vomit that I now hoped I hadn't stepped in.

"There's just so much that could go wrong tonight," I said, still looking away. "For example, you holding my hand all night. That's my dominant hand, buddy, I'm going to need that for my drink."

"Right," Carter said with a laugh, finally releasing my hand and suddenly his presence felt a lot less overbearing. Almost like a thunder storm had finally passed over and I no longer needed my umbrella to shield me from the rain. I looked back up at him — thankfully putting the vomit out of sight and out of mind — and he had that smile on. His coy, arrogant smile I used to hate so much. Maybe it was the fog of heat or the dim lights, but I had no idea how I felt about it now.

"I'll be taking that," I said, reaching for the red cup in his hand. Thankfully it was a large one, so I could take it from him without awkwardly brushing my fingers with his, but there were downsides to that. Especially the fact that it was filled nearly to the brim with liquor.

"I'd slow down —" he started, but in vain considering I had already tilted my head back and taken it down the hatch. The first thing I felt was a stinging sensation and when it had let up, it was followed by a bitter taste and the edges of my vision blurring just a little bit. I had half a mind to spit it out, but I was in the presence of Carter Abrams who was known to be blotto on weekends and could drink vodka like it was breathing air. There was no point in looking even more like an idiot tonight, our time together was just about me learning the ropes.

So with all my might, I forced it down in a swallow, and it wasn't even all that bad. Of course, looking over the rim of the cup, I could see that I still had a ways to go.

"Are you cool with this," Carter whispered in my ear, his words fanning my skin and seeming to give my intentions more purpose than they ever had before. There was no way I was drunk off of that one gulp, but I had to have been if I wanted to impress him so much. He stepped around so that he was standing in front of me. "Studies show that I'm a lot more attractive when you're sober anyway. So you might want to take it easy."

The urge to run a hand through my hair wasn't lost on me, there was just something about the way he was looking at me that made this night just a little bit better. Of course, all that time spent staring at his stupid face left me with nothing intelligent to follow up his statement with.

"I want to dance," my body told me to say, and it wasn't until I saw his look of (rather insulting) surprise, that I realized I had already said it out loud before I had the chance to run it through my brain a few times and get the wording right. "I mean, I think we should dance instead of standing around here all weird."

I had no idea what I had expected from him at this point — this night was curveball after curveball and I didn't even bring my bat — but Carter being reduced to laughter at the suggestion of dancing with me was the last thing I pictured. Of course, the signs were all there, we each thought the other was completely ridiculous, or that's what it always felt like. Tonight, we may have managed to close the physical gap of a hallway between us, but deep down, there was no amount of work to be done to fix the vast oceans between us as people.

I punched at his shoulder, and this time it connected, much to my satisfaction. And the smile on his face immediately washing off was just an added bonus. "Ow, what the hell was that for, Casey?"

"For being a dick," I leered. "You're the one who had me come here, and yet you want to laugh at the thought of dancing with me?"

"Hey, babe," he shrugged, "I opened the door, but you stepped inside."

I had either not been as mad as I could've been at him, or Carter's lack of care made me discover a new level for just how angry I could be. Regardless, what I felt towards him now was beyond just a general distaste for all the things about him that inconvenienced me, but everything about him in general was now flagged as offensive. His existence just inside his own house was enough to make my blood boil and I wasn't having it.

"I hate everything about you and I hope you choke, dickhead," I snapped at him, spinning around to head off to another corner of the party where I could sulk. But Carter seemed to have other plans for me, because his hand had snaked around my wrist, holding me back.

"That's just false, Mia," he said. "You and I both know that. You don't hate me, you're just jealous of how insanely attractive and charismatic I am."

What in the world was wrong with him? That probably was the last thing on my mind right now and the first was how I wish I was strong enough to rearrange his whole stupid, pretty face — okay, maybe it was on my mind, but that wasn't the point. The point was that I wanted nothing to do with him, never had, and never will. Me being a vulnerable idiot was the only thing that made this night a possibility and he knew that, he just chose to exploit it by letting me feel like I could trust him with my feelings.

"No," I simply said without getting worked up, "you're the worst. Simple as that."

"Again, you're wrong," he said. "Maybe you don't know it yet, but I'm probably the best thing that ever happened to you."

Not looking at Carter's ridiculously handsome — scratch that, just plain ridiculous — face was definitely helping the situation or else I would've gotten riled up again and did something dangerously idiotic. Especially if that bastard actually had the smug look on his face that I was picturing in my head right now. But the downside to not looking at him was being able to see the small crowd of onlookers we had inadvertently created.

Being on the debate team, I never wanted to lose an argument with anyone, but with the audience watching and Carter's inability to get riled up the way I did, I knew that going down with a fight definitely meant I would be going down. I had a narrative about Landon breaking up with me that I needed to get ahead of, I didn't need to look like some crazy girl arguing with Carter Abrams about how I expected he would feel about me. Even if it wasn't in the way people would instantly assume.

Not wanting to leave, but not wanting to stay either, I wrenched my hand away from his and made my way out to the balcony. I didn't stop to see and hear how the crowd would take what just happen, but I could swear I heard Carter curse under his breath as I left him.