I quirk a brow at her. “Why are you here if you don’t want to be? Better yet, why are you friends with these people if you don’t like them?”

She swallows back the drink and hands me the glass. “Honestly?”

I nod as I pour the shot. “Yeah. They’re a bunch of assholes. I don’t get it. Especially when you know someone as amazing as me.” I grin and tilt my head back, hissing out a breath trying to relieve the burn.

Annie follows suit, downing another drink. “I don’t know. I hate my friends.”

“Then don’t be friends with them anymore.” I slam the glass on the counter and inhale quickly trying not to gag on that last shot.

“It’s not that simple,” Annie protest. “You don’t understand.”

“Actually, I think it would be extremely simple.”

“Everything’s easy for you,” she says quietly.

“Uh, no. It’s not.” I squint at her, taking in the blonde locks curled into perfection. The overly shadowed eyes. The pristine outfit bordering on slutty, but covering just enough to pass as girl next door cute. How hard is it for Annie? How hard does she try to fit in with her friends? “Why would you say that?”

She laughs and I don’t miss the bitter undercurrent. “You can sing. You play all these instruments. Guys trip over themselves when you’re around. Alec likes you more than me. He can’t even be bothered to talk to me, but he rebuilt a car with you. I’m Guy’s stepsister, but he claims you as his sister. Even Dylan and Misty prefer you to me.” She holds her hand up when I open my mouth. “Don’t even get me started on the twins. And my baby sister would rather hunt you down then ask me to fill her stupid juice cup.” She shakes her head and throws back another shot. “You have real friends. And you don’t even try. You make no effort to have everything you have. I work my ass off. Cheer practice, studying, volunteering. I try to be a good person, but it’s like I’m never enough.”

“Alec doesn’t like me more,” I say. “Dylan hates me. Yes, I play a couple of instruments. So what? You find the only thing I have going for me and hold it against me. Your mom is always trying to turn me into a carbon copy of you. My grades suck. I don’t have a single female friend.” I take another drink and shove the glass away from me, angry now. “You still have both your parents and Jenny may be a slightly overbearing perfectionist, but she has always been there for you. You have led a princess’ life compared to mine. When you have to wonder where your mom is, or where your next meal is coming from, or if your mom’s newest boyfriend is going to lay his hands on you, then you can cry about your life. Until then…just shut up.” I push off the counter. “You want real friends, Annie, then stop playing pretend and grow up.”

Chapter 35

Mason

Drunk Hope is pretty entertaining. Even though I feel like her bodyguard as opposed to her boyfriend right now, I think she’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. At school, she’s quiet and usually keeps to herself, but here, with alcohol flowing through her veins, she’s chatting everybody up like they’re old friends.

“Hey Zack. I like your shirt,” she calls to some guy. I’m not sure what’s so great about his shirt. It’s a plain black tee. Probably from a pack that came with two more just like it.

“Shirt,” she says again and snorts. “Shi-rt. Shirt. That’s a funny word.”

It’s really not.

“I wonder who named it. Who was that first dude that was all like: I will call this a shirt?” She laughs again and I chuckle at her. “Noggin. That’s another funny word. Nog-gin. Oh, and blubber.” Now she doubles over, shaking with quiet laughter. “Blubber.”

“Shenanigan,” I offer, because how can I not? She’s hilarious right now.

“YES,” she exclaims, slapping my chest. “See, you get it. Oh, look, Mason. They have a pool.” She turns to face me straight on and smiles widely. “Do you think you’ll manage to keep your pants on?”

“Oh, haha. You’re a freaking comedian now?”

Hope blinks her eyes slowly, trying to look innocent, but her lips do this twitch and she presses them together to keep from laughing. I lean into her and bring my mouth close to her ear.

“You going to manage not to puke all over your drums?” I tease.

She shrugs, unaffected. “Hopefully.” Her eyes go big and she bounces on her toes. “If I get sick I won’t have to play. We could leave.”

“I think Guy would be pretty pissed off. Plus, you guys got paid.” I don’t really give a shit about either of those things, but I know Hope does. Well, maybe not right now, but she will when she’s sober.

“Yeah,” she sighs, defeated.

“Hope,” Guy calls. “Come on, it’s time.”

I squeeze her waist as she pouts her lip. I kiss it back into place. “The sooner you get through your set the sooner we can leave.”

Her lips turn up under mine and she beams at me. “True.” She places a quick kiss on my cheek and lets Guy pull her away. “I’ll be back. Don’t leave.” Uh, where would I go? There is no way in hell I’d leave her here, especially all sweet and tipsy.

“I’ll be up front watching,” I promise. She grins and does this weird finger flutter wave as Guy drags her farther from me.

I grab a Coke off the bar and squeeze my way through the crowd. I want to get as close to Hope as possible so she can see I’m there. Also, I want her in my sight at all times. I find a spot on the wall with a perfect view. Damn she’s sexy behind those drums. She twirls her sticks and I’m impressed she’s still able to do that without dropping them.

“Hey, Mason,” Bailey purrs. I glance sideways at her. Her strawberry blonde hair is a mass of curls. Her red lipstick is smeared onto her chin like she’s been making out with someone and she smells like tequila. I don’t like the way she’s looking at me, like I’m her next victim.

“Hey,” I say, tipping my head to acknowledge her.

Her hand sweeps up my arm, wrapping around my inner elbow. It’s clammy and I raise an eyebrow at her. “Do you want to dance?”

“Uh, no thanks.” I step away from her, detangling her arm from mine. “I don’t really dance. And I’m just watching the band right now.” I flick my gaze to Hope and wink at her. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, but she’s got this cute little grin and I laugh.

Bailey looks over like she’s seeing the whole set up for the first time. Her nose crinkles. It’s not adorable like Hope’s. “Why?”

I huff out an exasperated breath. “Because they’re my friends and they’re really good.” I focus my attention back on Hope, trying to ignore Bailey. After our exchange in school, I can’t believe she’s still trying to talk to me.

“We could do something more interesting than this.” Her hand slides down my arm and I swing my head to look at her. She’s got fuck me eyes and I realize I could have this chick right now. If I wanted to, I could lead her upstairs to an empty bedroom and probably do whatever my dirty mind could conjure up. The key phrase here being: If I wanted to. I take a step away, trying to put some distance between us, but it’s difficult with so many people.

“I have a girlfriend, Bailey.” I explain slowly, carefully, so there’s no misunderstanding.

She laughs without humor. “Who? Hope Love?”

I just stare at her, challenging her to say something negative about my girl again. I wish she would take a hint and back the hell off me. Even if I wasn’t with Hope, I wouldn’t be into this girl. Not since she’s shown me how bitchy she’s capable of being. And not in the fun way Hope is bitchy, but in that smug, holier-than-thou way that makes my skin crawl. I don’t want to be a dick ‘cause she is a girl and all, but I will if I need to.

“Look Bailey, if this was a month ago, I’d have been all over your ass, but…” I trail off, finding Hope again. She’s concentrating on her drums, but I can see the tension in her shoulders. She’s not relaxed like she usually is when she loses herself in the music. It’s like she’s only halfway paying attention and I know it’s because of me. Because of Bailey being all up on me. “I’m with Hope now,” I finish. The first song ends and I’m irritated that I missed the entire thing.

“You don’t want to mess with her,” Bailey continues. She leans in conspiratorially, but doesn’t bother to lower her voice. “Her mom was some crack whore psycho or something. Mental illness is, like, hereditary or whatever. Plus, I heard they shared boyfriends.” Her eyebrows lift and she shakes her head, disgusted. “You’ll probably catch a disease.”

There are so many things wrong with those five sentences; I don’t even know where to start. I’m too pissed to speak right now anyway. Before I get a chance, Hope is there, her hand on Bailey’s shoulder as she pushes her back against the wall. It’s surprising gentle for a girl who kicked a football player into submission.

“My mom didn’t smoke crack,” Hope says. “She was an alcoholic who liked pills.” Bailey rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “She did have mental issues, though,” Hope continues in a soft, matter-of-fact voice. “And yeah, she also had problems closing her legs, but no more than you do.”

Bailey pushes back at Hope who barely moves. She’s always got herself braced for an attack. Knowing her history, it makes this weight settle in the pit of my stomach. I hate that she’s always ready for someone to hurt her.

Now Bailey raises her hand to strike. Hope smiles at her, inviting her to swing. It’s almost like she wants her to do it. Of course, with Hope, I’m sure she does. She probably will welcome the pain.

“Chick fight,” someone yells.

Hope swats Bailey’s hand away, causing her back to thud against the wall. “Don’t ever talk about me or my mom again,” she says in that eerily calm voice. “You never know what a mentally ill person, like me, might do.”

“Hope,” Guy breathes. “Honey, come on. Let’s finish our set.” He reaches for her and she nods, following after him.

“Awe, come on! Kick her ass,” someone shouts.

“It doesn’t matter,” Guy says quietly. “She doesn’t matter. Let’s just play.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hope agrees. Her voice cracks and I can’t stand it. I want to go with her as Guy leads her away from Bailey who is now surrounded by several of her shocked friends.

“Wait,” Hope says, stopping in the middle of the living room. She pivots around and the crowd, anticipating another altercation, parts as she makes her way back toward Bailey. “Where did you hear about my mom?” She barely whispers the words, making my head jerk toward her.

Bailey glowers at Hope, braver now that her friends flank her. “Why don’t you ask Annie,” she hisses. A cruel smirk twists her mouth when she notices the hurt expression masking Hope’s face.

“Ooh,” some guy coos. “Shit just got real.”

Hope turns around and makes a straight line for her drums.

Park moves up behind her, arms crossed over his chest, hands in tight fists. “Come on, Hope. You don’t have to play if you don’t want to. Let’s just go. Fuck these people.”

“From what I hear she already has.” I blink in surprise and search the crowd to find who the voice belongs to. Christian Dunkin. And he’s smirking at Hope in that same smug way he did the first time I saw him. I immediately push my way through the bodies, trying to get up close to Hope. “I’m just waiting for my turn.” He takes a step toward her, his eyes scaling her body like he’s picturing her naked. I flex my fingers, struggling to restrain the urge to tackle him. “Too bad you and Annie aren’t really related. I’ve never had sisters before.”