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“Do you ever shut up the hell up, Peyton?” I ask through narrowed eyes.

All the girls around the dining table start giggling over their drinks.

Everyone has little shot glasses or red solo cups in hand.

“Oh wow, look at who grew some balls.” His braces practically blind me as he laughs.

I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

Sean looks over at me, raising his brows in concern.

All my pent up anger gets released when I’m out of the house. If I can’t defend myself there, I sure can everywhere else.

“At least I have balls,” I spit back.

Sean’s lips purse, trying to stay impartial. If he laughs, Peyton will throw a fit.

Peyton’s smile fades as the words leave my lips and he folds his arms in embarrassment.

I think he’s finally at a loss for words.

The large oak dining table doesn’t have any chairs to sit on, but plenty of liquor is spread across it. I’ve never really drank before, but with Sean here, I feel comfortable enough to. Alex, another one of Sean’s friends, is checking me out while handing Sean a cup. I reach for a bottle of vanilla-flavored vodka, pouring a shot into a cup.

Sean in the corner of my eye, watches me.

I shoot the vodka back as fast as I can.

Why do people like this? I feel an intense burn run down my throat, barely tasting any of the so-called vanilla flavor. I want to cough but I hold it in, so I don’t look weak. Don’t need to fuel Peyton’s fire.

Sean places his cup down on the table, without even taking a sip. He leans down to reach my eye level.

“Drinking already are we?” He hovers, smelling delicious.

I don’t need the vodka to notice.

“Why not? It’s part of my high school experience, right?”

Sean breathes out, his head cocked to the side.

I think he’s trying to decide whether he’s going to let me continue drinking.

“I’m gonna watch you the whole night. Don’t drink anyone else’s drink.”

His assertiveness makes me proud—I like having someone care for me. His usual goofiness is still in his eyes, but I like this side of him. Someone who wants to protect me.

His lips are light pink and he has two moles on the left side of his face that I can’t stop staring at. I want to kiss them.

Okay, that’s definitely the vodka talking.

“Got it,” I reply, feeling a slight tingle in my head.

I’ve had champagne once. It was New Years and my dad let me drink with him. That’s the only alcohol I’ve ever had and it was much better than this.

The music seems to get louder and louder as a crowd of people in the living room start singing along to an eighty’s song I can’t remember the name of.

They’ve turned off some lights and have lasers beaming all over the room. Bright reds and purples shine on the walls and in my eyes. Sean grabs my hand, pulling me into the streaming lights.

“Let’s dance,” he yells, flashing his dimples.