IT HAD TAKEN me twenty minutes to locate Duncan Fitzgerald's house, and fifteen minutes more to convince myself to stop circling his block, and get out of my car.

Now I was standing just outside the front door, swallowing over the thrum of the music coming from inside, my heartbeat in my throat, fingers trembling.

What was I doing? Surely Will had only invited me to be nice. I had no doubt in my mind he was currently enjoying drinks with his friends, having forgotten about my existence completely. It wouldn't make a difference to him whether or not I showed up. Large groups of people were definitely not my thing, and stepping through that door would be a foolish thing to do. It didn't matter that I would be invisible inside of those walls, I would still struggle to breathe.

I had absolutely no idea what possessed me to bring myself to a party, much less alone, with no one to cling to as my safety net. The thought caused nausea to roil in the pits of my stomach. Adjusting the hem of my denim skirt, I shivered in the early spring night air. I didn't know what kinds of clothes people wore to parties, and I'd spent far too long at home trying to pick out an appropriate outfit. I'd gone for a turtleneck and corduroy skirt, black tights covering my legs to protect myself from the cold.

The door burst open all at once, and I flinched, leaping out of the way.

A couple exited the house, in the middle of a conversation, and entirely unaware of my presence. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice they hadn't closed the door behind them properly, leaving a sliver of space for me to look through, and I caught a glimpse of the events taking place inside. The noise level was enough to keep my heart racing, but apart from that, it didn't look too crazy. Faces I recognized from St. Mary's were dancing, drinking, sitting on couches and talking. Intuitively, I took a step away from the door.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I willed myself not to run back to my car and drive away to safety. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, navigating to my messages with Will. I tried to refresh them, but nothing happened. He hadn't replied. Maybe he didn't see my text telling him I was coming. Or maybe he just didn't care.

A bitter wind swept around me, causing my body to tremor, my curls blowing into my face, and I reached up to tame them. I decided then that I would go inside, take a quick look around, and leave. Ten minutes, tops. Just to say that I did it.

With that thought, I squared my shoulders, pushing the door open the rest of the way, and shutting it firmly behind me, relaxing slightly once I felt the warmth emanating from the house. No one noticed me enter. An old Arctic Monkeys song was playing loud over the speakers, my heart pounding twice as fast as the rhythm of the drums. I swallowed, walking further into the living room timidly. Part of me expected everyone to look at me all at once, as if they would sense an outsider was in their presence, but the rational part of me knew that was ridiculous. If my attendance truly bothered anyone, I was sure they would be too intoxicated to care, anyway.

I fidgeted with my fingers, glancing at my surroundings, keeping an eye out for the reason I had dragged myself here in the first place, but I didn't see him anywhere. I side-stepped out of people's paths, trying to maneuver my way to the kitchen. I didn't want to drink any alcohol, but I could at least grab a glass of water. My mouth suddenly felt extremely dry, my pulse still thudding frantically.

After wandering aimlessly for a little while, I happened upon the kitchen, but the boisterous laughter coming from inside made me shrink away instinctively. Telling myself to toughen up, I rounded the corner, my eyes immediately landing on the attractive boy leaning against the counter. The one who'd invited me.

Will Tucker had a red solo cup in his hand, his arms crossed, lips spread wide in a dazzling grin as he chatted with a couple of his friends. The sight of him made my heart stutter for a moment, before I snapped myself out of it, questioning my presence once again. He was clearly already having a good time. He didn't need me around.

I started to turn away, deciding five minutes was long enough, but then he happened to look in my direction, sea blue eyes capturing mine and holding me in place.

His features brightened. "Hey!" he said, voice incredulous, his posture instantly straightening, and he set his drink down on the counter, walking toward me. My heart stuttered again, stomach jumping. "You're here."

"I texted you," I told him, rubbing my upper arm self-consciously, acutely aware of the way his friends were watching us.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he patted his pocket, reaching for his phone and pulling it out. He pressed the home button, but nothing happened, and the screen remained dark. "Guess my phone died. . ." he remarked, looking up at me apologetically. "Sorry about that. I'm really glad you came, though."

I felt a rush of heat to my face, and I bit the inside of my lip to hold back a smile. A silence fell over us, and I began to fidget with my fingers again, not knowing what to do next. Will seemed to feel the same, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

"So, um," he started, sounding uncertain. "Can I get you something to drink?" My eyes fell on the bottles of alcohol on the counter, none of them seeming very appealing, and my nose crinkled subconsciously. "No pressure or anything," he added quickly.

I lent him a small smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I think I'll just have water, if that's okay," I murmured.

He nodded eagerly, reaching for a water bottle, and passing it to me. I uncapped it, taking a sip, wanting something to do with my hands to keep my fingers from squirming. Several people entered through the doorway to the kitchen, and we stepped out of their way politely, causing the space between us to shrink a little. The group that entered was loud, and rambunctious, impossible to speak over, and Will leaned down to reach my ear.

"Do you wanna go sit down somewhere?" he asked, working to be heard over the noise in the room.

I nodded, wanting to escape the small kitchen, suddenly feeling mildly claustrophobic. I'd never done well with crowded, enclosed spaces, and my social anxiety only made things worse.

He grabbed his drink, gesturing for me to follow him, and I obeyed, in no rush to lose sight of the one person I knew. Even then, he was still practically a stranger. We walked through the house, into the hallway, and down a set of stairs leading to the basement. I felt my pulse in my throat for a few brief moments, wondering if I'd given the wrong impression and this was all a ploy to get me alone, but then we reached the end of the staircase, and I discovered there were other people milling about.

It was significantly quieter down here; music still drifted from a stereo, but it was at a much more acceptable volume, and a couple of people were standing around a ping-pong table, Duncan Fitzgerald being one of them. The girl playing him was bronzed and beautiful, midnight hair cascading over her shoulders, looking as though she belonged in the pages of a fashion magazine, and several guys from the soccer team observed their match, though it was clear who they were more interested in watching.

Duncan straightened up in the middle of a serve, noticing us enter. "Tucker!" he greeted cheerfully, a grin painted on his face, and from that one word alone, I could tell he'd already had a few drinks. I found it interesting that the host was choosing to hide away in the basement, but I most likely would've done the same if I were him. "Good to see you, buddy. Come play me after this round. I'm totally kicking Mizrahi's ass."

The girl across the table glared, sending the ball back over to his side with her paddle. "You are doing no such thing," she snapped. "I am the goddamn goddess of ping-pong." She proved her point, as Duncan stumbled, and the ball fell to the floor by his feet, causing the girl to hold up her arms in victory. While he collected himself, she turned on her heel, facing Will. "Play me next. If you dare."

Will chuckled affectionately, but shook his head. "Maybe later." He gestured to me with his thumb, a half-smile hanging off his mouth. "Guys, this is Vivienne," he introduced, before turning to me. "That's Naomi. And you already know Duncan."

Naomi gave me a once over, placing a hand on her hip, and nodding appreciatively. My cheeks warmed under her scrutiny. "I approve." She smiled, holding out her hand, and I took a step forward, shaking it tentatively. "Great meeting you, babe."

Duncan squinted at me, no hint of recognition anywhere on his features, and I pursed my lips, unsurprised. "Have we met before?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

I heard Will sigh.

"Chemistry. Lab partners. I also work at Bartley's," I offered helpfully, folding my hands in front of me around my water bottle. Realization finally dawned on his face at my last sentence, and an awkward silence settled over the room. I felt the need to alleviate it, quickly adding, "No worries. I don't take it personally."

Naomi scoffed, grabbing a spare ping-pong ball and firing it at Duncan with her paddle. He let out a yelp as it nailed him on the arm, and I stifled a laugh, impressed at her precision. "Duncan!" she scolded, catching the attention of the other people in the basement, though they seemed to relax once they realized who was talking. "You ignorant fuck!"

"Ow!" Duncan protested, rubbing his arm, though there was a hint of laughter in his voice. He looked at me apologetically. "Sorry, Vivienne. I can be a real dumbass sometimes—"

"That's an understatement," Will muttered teasingly.

"—but any friend of Tuck's is a friend of mine," Duncan continued, ignoring him. "No hard feelings?"

I allowed myself a smile for the first time, unable to hold it back. "We're good," I said, nodding.

"Glad we got that settled," Will remarked, raising an eyebrow. "Let's leave these two to their little game."

He gestured to an open sofa with his chin, and we waved at Naomi and Duncan before heading over to it. He took a seat, angling himself so he was leaning against the armrest, halfway facing me, and I sat down next to him timidly, clutching onto my water bottle. It felt weird to be relatively on our own; there were still other people around, but they felt far away, their conversations distant.

The Fitzgerald's basement was cozy. All of the furniture seemed new, and modern, but it was filled with homely touches. There was a fireplace crackling nearby, family photos decorating the mantel, and woven blankets draped over the couches. A short distance away, a couple guys were playing video games on a flat screen TV. It was a huge contrast from the booze, dancing, and loud music upstairs. This was more my speed.

After a long pause, Will said, "You look really nice."

I glanced up at him in surprise, cheeks burning even more when I saw that his were tinged with the slightest hint of pink. I told myself it was because of the close proximity to the fireplace. "Oh," I said stupidly, caught off guard. "Um, thanks."

My palms felt clammy, and I didn't know what else I wanted to say. I kind of wanted to tell him he looked nice, too, that he always did, but I thought it would make things feel even weirder. I chewed on the inside of my lip, and before I could stop it, the question I'd been wondering ever since he approached me in the school hallway escaped.

"Why did you invite me?"

He blinked in confusion, before laughing, and I immediately wished I could swallow up the words and take them back, cringing inwardly. "Uh, I don't know. . ." he trailed off. "I guess I just wanted to hang out with you. Is that okay?"

"Really?" I asked, voice coated with surprise.

"Really." He smiled, looking amused, and I felt my own lips turning upward. "I like being around you."

I held his gaze for several moments, biting the inside of my mouth, fighting against the warmth trying to build in my chest. "Okay," I said finally, and he laughed again, leaning his head back against the couch. I liked the sound.

"Did I pass the test?" he teased, his eyes glittering with mirth.

Still smiling, I nodded, feeling myself relax a little, settling into the cushions. "Yes, you passed."

"Thank God," he remarked, placing his hands on his heart dramatically, before crossing his arms over his chest. "How's your day been? Did you have to work?"

I shook my head, crossing my legs—and feeling thankful for my tights—as I fiddled with my water bottle. "No, I was helping my dad at his shop, and then I just worked on stuff for school."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Your dad owns a business?"

Giving him a close-lipped smile, I felt a flicker of pride. "Yeah, he's a florist. He runs Lou's Flower Market. It's uptown." Dad would be happy I was advertising his business, even if a teenage boy wasn't exactly his target demographic.

"That's really neat," he said sincerely. "I'll have to stop by sometime to check it out."

"What about you?" I asked, resting my elbow on the back of the couch and letting my head lean into my hand. "How was your day?"

Will shrugged nonchalantly. "Uneventful." He gave me a sidelong glance. "It's definitely getting better though."

The heat returned to my cheeks, as if someone had suddenly cranked up the furnace, and I smiled shyly. "That's good," I commented, not knowing what else to say.

"It is. I'm glad you came round," he murmured, eyes riveted to my face, a sleepy smile taking hold of his lips, and I vaguely wondered how much he'd had to drink. I was almost starting to feel a little tipsy myself, though I hadn't even come in close contact with any alcohol. It didn't matter though, he wasn't making me uncomfortable, or making any attempt to move closer on the couch. He seemed content to sit and talk, and that was perfectly fine by me.

I shifted in my seat, trying to encourage full sentences to reenter my brain. I had never been good with small talk, much less with extremely attractive boys who looked at me the way Will was currently looking at me. He perked up a little, noticing my hesitancy, and sitting up straighter.

"Uh, do you want to play a game or something?" he asked. "I think Duncan has cards somewhere, or we could kick those guys off the Xbox."

I shook my head, unable to keep from laughing at his sincerity, and his evident desire to be a good host. "That's okay," I said. "I'm cool with just sitting here for now."

"Okay," he commented, relaxing back against the couch again, and smiling sheepishly. "I don't want you to get bored. Did I mention I'm happy you decided to come?"

"Maybe once or twice," I replied, still smiling, warmth blossoming in my chest.

He nodded shortly, grin intact. "Good. Don't leave yet."

┅

song: fluorescent adolescent - arctic monkeys

i'm so soft for these two.

i've never written a story in this format before, but i'm really, really enjoying it. i'm still a sucker for YA, so it's fun to be able to write that as well as college-aged characters.

if you enjoyed, please feel free to let me know by leaving a vote and a comment :-)

thank you for reading ミ☆