I STAYED LONGER than I should have.

Duncan Fitzgerald's basement seemed to be in a nonsensical time warp where the hours felt like minutes, and I forgot to look at the clock. The glow of the fire was warm on Will's features as he told me about his favorite things to do back home in Australia, like driving along the Great Ocean Road with the windows down, paddle boarding in Portsea, and getting down to the beach at every possible opportunity. He asked me about my family, my relationship with Claire, what it was like to grow up in Cape Vincent.

I didn't even really notice how it happened, but somehow in the midst of our conversations, we'd both managed to shift to face each other completely; I'd relaxed enough to rest my head comfortably against the cushions, my arms wrapped around a pillow, and he leaned on the back of the couch with his elbow as he smiled down at me.

The noises of the ongoing party upstairs felt distant, and the majority of the basement-dwellers had gone to rejoin it, aside from us, and the two guys still glued to Call of Duty a short distance away. It was ridiculous, and entirely cliche, but the world around me had seemed to fade into the background for the past couple hours as I listened intently, and forgot about some of my self-consciousness.

I was a bit startled at how comfortable I felt—a flutter of nerves remained in my belly, but it was more of an excited energy, rather than an uncomfortable one. Will had a very intentional way of speaking, and it was easy to get swallowed up in it.

And the accent definitely helped.

But the spell was broken when the shouts from above suddenly grew in volume, and I blinked, reaching for my phone to check the time. My parents knew where I was, but they'd wanted me to be home by eleven.

That was forty-five minutes ago.

I shot straight up in my seat, cursing softly under my breath, and causing Will to flinch, blinking at me in confusion.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"I kind of missed my curfew. And by kind of, I mean exponentially," I explained, feeling embarrassed. He must have thought I was a boring, goody-two-shoes, or a buzzkill, but at the moment, I was more worried about my parent's anger than I was about his opinion.

"Oh. Damn," he murmured in disapproval.

He was quiet for a moment as I double-checked my phone, surprised that I hadn't already been bombarded by a barrage of missed calls and texts. My parents weren't used to me being out late on my own; I was the type to stay in and buckle down on schoolwork, or snuggle my dog and binge-watch something on my laptop. Now, the one time I had gone out, I'd missed my curfew by a mile.

Maybe they'd chosen to just contact the police straight away to report my disappearance. They tended to lean on the melodramatic side.

Standing up, I shoved my phone into my pocket and gripped my nearly empty bottle of water, a feeling of dread in my belly. Will remained noticeably silent for a few beats, until his expression seemed to brighten, a twinkle in his eye.

"Hey, how did you get here tonight?"

"I drove." I blinked. "Why?"

His lips curled into his trademark half-smile, somewhat sheepishly. "Think I could get a lift back to mine? If it's not too much out of the way, of course. . ." he trailed off.

Despite most people migrating upstairs, the party seemed to be far from over, and Will didn't strike me as the type of guy to tap out early. "You don't want to stay?" I asked, my voice doing little to mask my surprise.

He stood from the couch, shrugging and crinkling his nose. "Nah. I've had enough. Besides, Ryan drove me here, and he's not going to want to leave for a while." He gestured with his chin toward one of the guys currently on a rampant kill streak onscreen, blissfully unaware of our presence. I followed his gaze, before glancing back at Will, cocking my head to the side slightly. "So, what do you say?"

I bit the inside of my lip, smiling a little as I nodded. "Sure, I don't mind driving you."

As soon as the words escaped, the nerves settled in. Driving other people gave me anxiety at the best of times, and having to drive someone like Will Tucker would be on an entirely different level. My hands began to tremble at the thought, but I steeled myself, making for the staircase, and he followed.

I couldn't say I was opposed to getting the chance to spend more time with him. It was extremely rare for me to be able to spend hours talking to someone that wasn't Claire, and I had to admit, I was starting to feel like a toned-down, twisted version of Cinderella. Once the clock struck twelve, it was very possible whatever inexplicable interest he seemed to have in me would dissipate, and I would go back to being invisible.

Walking back through the party felt disorienting, like a bizarre dream. The pulsing music seemed louder than before, and the people surrounding us were considerably less sober than they were hours ago. One of the guys from the soccer team was currently standing on top of the Fitzgeralds' dining table, serenading the floral centerpiece in his hand as he belted out the lyrics to an a cappella rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody, and as we walked by, Will shot me an amused glance, quirking an eyebrow, and I couldn't stop a stifled laugh from escaping. Several other teammates were standing around and watching him, cheering him on as if they'd gotten front-row tickets to Queen themselves.

Duncan was one of them.

He managed to see Will out of the corner of his eye, and whirled to face us, a sloppy grin adorning his lips. "Tucker, my man!" He clapped Will on the shoulder, before his eyes landed on me. It took a second for him to register who I was, but it was certainly a lot better than his recognition level before tonight. "And Vivienne, my man's. . . man!"

Will cringed in embarrassment, pinching the bridge of his nose, and I barely held back another laugh, placing a hand to my mouth and pretending to clear my throat.

"I'll see you at school on Monday, Dunco," Will said, clearly eager to bring the interaction to a close.

Confusion dashed over Duncan's features, and it was only then that he seemed to process that we were on a path headed for the front door. "Wait, what? You're leaving?"

"Yeah. Viv's my ride." He smiled at me, and I felt my cheeks warm at his use of my nickname.

Duncan looked between the two of us for several moments, before nodding slowly in understanding. "Ah," he said, drawing out the word dramatically. "I see how it is." He gave me a stern look, pointing. "Don't keep him out too late. He needs his beauty sleep."

"For God's sake," Will muttered, exasperated, as he placed his hands on Duncan's shoulders, turning him away. "Okay, we're leaving now."

After forcefully bidding his friend goodbye, Will eagerly made for the door, and I followed, noting the way his cheeks had gone slightly pink again. We exited the house, and I felt relieved to be breathing fresh air again, despite the cool temperature.

"I parked down the street over there," I told him, pointing in the vague direction of my car. "It's a bit of a walk."

"I don't mind," he replied, sticking his hands into his pockets.

When I'd arrived, the place had been packed with cars, but a few of them were gone now. We began to walk in silence, the roar of the party fading to a distant thrum, until only the sound of our footsteps on the pavement was audible. I wrapped my arms around my torso, shivering a little, my breath coming out in a foggy exhale in front of me. The temperature had dropped significantly in the hours since I'd been outside.

After a while, I saw Will give me a sidelong glance.

"Sorry about Fitzgerald, by the way," he commented, and I looked up at him in surprise. "He's honestly really great, but tonight he's very. . . drunk."

I smiled, shaking my head. "It's okay. You guys seem really close. It's fun to watch."

"Yeah, he's been a good friend to me since I moved here. He kind of took me under his wing."

We reached my car, and I used the key fob to unlock it, slipping into the driver's seat. Will entered moments later, settling back against his seat as I started the car. He told me the general direction of his house, saying he'd tell me where to go, but apart from that, he was quiet until we were a couple streets away from the Fitzgerald house. The radio was playing softly in the background, a station playing undiscovered indie artists that I usually listened to when I went for drives on my own, and the interior of the vehicle was steadily growing warmer from the hot air blasting from the vents.

"Claire's your best friend, right?" he asked after a pause.

I thought about it for a moment. "Yeah. . ." I trailed off, before smiling to myself. "I guess she kind of feels more like a little sister. I'm lucky to call her family."

"It's a shame she doesn't go to our school," he remarked sympathetically. "Do you hang out with anyone at St. Mary's?"

I felt a surge of embarrassment. "Not really," I said honestly. "I'm not exactly. . . social, in case you haven't noticed."

His eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head, making a noise of disagreement at the back of his throat. "I don't think that's true." He directed me to take a left. "We've been talking for hours, haven't we?"

"Well, this is the exception, not the rule," I mumbled, keeping my eyes on the street ahead of us, lit up in sections by the street lamps overhead. "There's a reason I'd never been to a party before tonight."

Will waved a hand dismissively. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit," he reassured, before his gaze jumped to a line of houses. "Mine's that blue one up there."

I followed his direction, pulling into the drive and putting the car into park, feeling a little sad we'd reached his house already.

He placed his hand on the door handle, but he lingered, appearing to be deep in thought. Then he peered up at me with a bright smile. "You should hang out with us next week."

"Us?" I repeated, my stomach already turning at the thought of a large group of people.

"Duncan and Naomi," he explained. "A couple others. And me, of course. I think we're getting together after school soon. You should come."

I chewed on the inside of my lip, fidgeting with my fingers. Naomi and Duncan seemed nice enough, and Will would be there. . . "I'll think about it," I settled on.

"Absolutely." His hand went to the door handle again, but he still seemed hesitant to open it. He turned to me, his smile softer. "Thanks for giving me a lift."

"No problem," I said sincerely.

The tinge of pink returned to his cheeks, visible from the motion light in front of his house. "I'm glad I. . . I'm glad you were able to make it tonight," he murmured, before his gaze dropped to the clock on the dashboard, and he straightened up, clearing his throat. "But I won't keep you any longer. Good luck with your parents."

"Thanks, I'm gonna need it," I replied, lips curving up into a gentle smile. "And thanks again for inviting me."

"Anytime. Goodnight, Vivienne."

He gave me one last lingering smile, before pushing the door open and exiting the car, closing it behind him. I waited until he was safely inside his house to pull out of the driveway, and I found my smile growing wider and wider, despite my efforts to contain it. I didn't know the exact reason for it, but I wasn't able to stop until I walked through the front door of my own house, remembering that I was very, very late.

The door shut behind me with a quiet click, silent enough that I didn't seem to wake up Murphy, who usually made it a habit to waddle over to the entrance whenever I came in. A lamp in the living room was still on, and I saw my mom slumped over on the sofa, a book in one hand, her cell phone in the other. Her mouth was hanging open slightly as she dozed, her glasses a little crooked, and an affectionate burst of warmth bloomed in my chest.

I grabbed a blanket from the basket near the couch, unfolding it and draping it over her gently. I started to tip-toe toward my bedroom, but she suddenly stirred from her sleep, sitting up with a deep inhale, the blanket sliding down her torso.

"Vivienne," she mumbled sleepily. "You're home."

Biting my lip, I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt. "I'm really sorry I'm so late," I apologized, a swell of guilt coming to a crest inside of me. "I totally lost track of the time. I didn't mean to make you worry."

To my surprise, she graced me with a smile. "I figured you were out having fun," she said, and my eyebrows raised. "How was it?"

"It was. . ." I blinked at her in confusion. "Wait, you're not upset?"

She shook her head. "I was a little worried, yes. And I'm sure you can imagine how stressed your dad has been all night. But you've never given me a reason not to trust you." She paused for a moment, reaching out to straighten her glasses. "I'm relieved that you actually wanted to go out and spend time with people your age."

"Oh," I said dumbly, and her smile widened as she patted the spot next to her.

"Tell me all about it."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, not particularly wanting to tell her I'd spent the entire evening talking to one boy. She was bound to make a bigger deal out of it than it was, and I was sure the news would be quick to spread to the rest of the family, who would no doubt tease me about it at Claire's party on Monday.

"Mom, I'm really tired," I told her, shifting my weight between my feet. "And you look exhausted. We should both go to bed."

She pouted, waving a hand dismissively. "You're no fun."

"Love you," I said.

After bidding her goodnight, I headed down the hallway to my room, feeling a strange mix of giddiness, and exhaustion. I didn't want my Cinderella night to end. Will had invited me to hang out with his friends, but would he still want me to come once he actually thought about it? What would the rest of his friends think? Spending time with a guy like Will Tucker didn't seem like it would ever become a normal occurrence, so I thought it would be best to appreciate it as much as I could.

I found myself thinking that a tiny thread had been wound around Will and I, and if we were to drift apart, the thread would continue to lengthen, covering the distance, becoming taut the farther away we became.

And eventually, it would break.

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