My eyes shift from the barista to the cup in my hands.

"Is there cinnamon in this?"

"Uh— yes," she gives me a confused smile.

"I didn't ask for any cinnamon," I say in annoyance.

"Well, ma'am, it's traditional for that-"

"Forget it," I sigh and swiftly turn away from her, "I'll drink it any-" I cut myself off with a gasp when I feel the coffee spill over my hands and down the side of my jacket.

"Oh— I am so sorry..."

I scoff at the man who carelessly crashed into me and somehow didn't get a drop on himself.

"Sorry?" I scowl at him.

"Here, let me help you-" he rushes to get napkins from the counter.

"You've done enough," I snatch them from him, "thanks," I say facetiously.

"Look, man," he puts his hands up in surrender.

"Why are you still standing here?" I glare at him, "go!"

He sneers and shakes his head but walks out like I told him to.

I glance down at the mess he made of me.

This will never come out of designer.

I pout before taking off the jacket and grabbing more napkins.

I hear someone behind me say: "Dab, don't rub."

"I know what I'm doing," I say through gritted teeth.

"Really? Because it looks like you're-" I huff and turn to see who's speaking, "crying...Audrey, are you crying?" Tony tries to brush his thumb over my cheek, but I swat his hand away.

"No, I am not," I refrain from facing him and revealing the truth that yes, I am obviously crying.

"We can buy you another coat..." Tony suggests, "and another coffee."

"I don't want another one," I huff.

"...then why are you so upset?"

"Because this one is ruined like everything else," I throw it on the floor.

"Nothing's ruined," he looks at me in concern and picks up the jacket, "Why don't you sit down...you seem a little...overwhelmed," he takes my arm and leads me to a table.

"You can't even tell now that it's from Givenchy's fall collection," I continue through labored breaths, "and of course this would happen to me. I'm not allowed to have anything I want anymore."

"What?" Tony snickers, "don't you know who you are? You've got everything."

"Yeah, who am I?" I ask daringly. "I have no future, no friends who actually like me, my love life is non-existent. It all may as well be so stained with coffee to the point where you can't tell it's me anymore."

"You're Audrey Michaels," he smirks, "Though, before today, I didn't know you were an actual person with human emotions," he chuckled.

"It's nice to know this is funny to you," I narrow my eyes at him.

"It's just weird seeing you like this, you know? I think I just assumed you couldn't cry...you only made other people do that," he explains, "but here you are in a café, crying over a jacket..."

"What, are you deaf? I said I wasn't crying, and it wasn't because of the jacket," I snap at him.

"Don't worry," Tony says in amusement, "your secret is safe with me."

"You can leave now," I say as more of a demand than a suggestion.

"Yeah," he nods and shrugs but stays seated. I sigh heavily and roll my eyes, hoping that a wave a silence will roll in and sweep me away. But, he just won't let that happen. "So...about your life being stained, have you considered presoaking before you wash it?"

"Are you incapable of taking anything seriously?"

Tony smirks, "being serious won't make you smile."

"Does it look like I'm smiling?" I glare.

"No," he laughs, "not at all...but I haven't figured out how to get there yet."

I shake my head and stand up from the table, "I'm going to school."

"Wait-" Tony starts sliding off his uniform jacket, "take this."

"I don't want it."

"But baby it's cold outside," Tony sang...off-key.

"I'd rather freeze than wear anything that's been defiled by you," I say nonchalantly and head toward the door.

"Better me than coffee," he says with a smile, and I continue to ignore him. "Come on...your jacket is wet, the coffee will rub off on your clothes...just take mine." I stop to ponder his offer. "Plus, if you agree to wear it, I'll be serious when I walk with you to school and you explain why Audrey Michaels believes she isn't her usual teen beauty queen slash she-devil self."

"Will you be quiet?" I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms.

He shrugs, "no promises."

I take a cigarette from out of the carton, and Leo snatches it from my hands.

"Give it a rest, would you?" I huff.

"You've smoked three in the past half an hour, you give it a rest," Leo argues.

"Look who's talking," I scoff, "you smoke more than you breathe when you're stressed."

"You're stressed? What about?" Leo gives me that concerned expression he always does when someone has a problem.

"Bullshit with my dad," I shrug. "I'm staying with Val, though. So, it's fine."

"Fine," he nods and looks down, clearly dying to say something.

"Spit it out, Rylin," I sigh.

"Maybe you should tell your dad off...you know, at least once."

"You think I haven't done that?" I furrow my eyebrows, "I tell him off like four times a week."

"Yeah, but how many of those times is he sober?"

"What does it matter? He remembers sometimes and thinks it's a fucking joke."

"If he's not drunk when you talk to him...he has no excuse not to listen."

He's right, but I'm not going to tell him that. When my dad isn't drinking...we don't talk about him being drunk. It's like he's a real dad again, even if it's just for an hour or two...and in my head I still have no respect for him, he doesn't deserve any...but I can't bring myself to act like it, not when he's sober.

"So, anyway," I start to change the subject, "I'm stopping by Jordan's place after this, he said a few people are going to be there for like a little kickback or something. You in?"

Leo gives me a disappointed look, but he knows not to push me on this. "I don't know...maybe," he responds.

"Maybe?" I stop walking and turn to face him, "you got something better to do?" I ask skeptically.

"It's the middle of the week, I don't want to get...uh..." His voice trails off, and his eyes drift past me as he loses his train of thought.

I follow his gaze where it leads outside to the interior courtyard. "Oh," I suck air between my teeth at the sight of Heather sitting and laughing with that Jace guy. "I mean...that's normal, they're friends, right?" I say since I can practically see Leo's brain twisting this into something else.

"I don't care, she's not my girlfriend," he stares down at the ground, "and I guess I'll go but not for too long, okay?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he nods.

"Well, at least you always end up hooking up with someone at these things..."

Which is probably why you didn't want to go before you saw her.

"Walk me to class?" I ask after the locker room finally clears out.

"Or," Evan smirks, "wanna shower first?" he says suggestively.

"Shut up," I shake my head and laugh, and he chuckles before smiling at me

"So, what class do you have after this?" He says just as we hear the door open and close. We look confusedly between each other before he peeks his head around the corner to see who just came in

"Class?" A guy said with a sly smile, "I'm going to stay and watch the cheerleaders practice."

"What are you doing in here, Riley?" Evan furrows his eyebrows.

"Skipping," he shrugs, "why're you taking so long?"

"Oh, I was-"

"You know him?" Riley points toward me. Funny, for a second I thought I was actually invisible like Susan Storm or something.

"Uh— yeah, that's Zach."

"How's it hangin'?" He nods in greeting, "up for some cheerleaders?"

"No, actually, he's got to go," Evan answers before I can.

"I'll have to find someone else then," Riley says, "Andrews only has a thing for virgins...and those cheerleaders are not."

"Virgins?" I furrow my eyebrows at Evan, but he avoids looking at me.

"Yeah— maybe two are," Riley continues, "but that's it."

"Enough already," Evan sighs and looks away.

"Like you care if I talk about them," Riley scoffs, "you were all over Aimee Lee as if she could keep up with you. You're no saint, yourself."

Evan's jaw clenched as he scowled at him.

"I didn't say I was," he slammed his locker irritatedly before pushing past Riley as he headed outside toward the football field.

"What'd I do?" Riley said to me as he put his arms up in confusion. I shrugged my shoulders and took a deep breath. "Ah— whatever," he shook his head, giving up and walking back out to the gym.

I grabbed my bookbag and left in the same direction as Evan. I'll just be late for class because...

"Who is Aimee?" I shout once I reach him on the field.

"Some Southeast girl," he said like it was nothing.

"And you had sex with her?"

"No," Evan said sternly, "I didn't really touch her."

"What'd you do then?" I scoff through laughter, "let her touch you, so you could say it didn't count?"

"We made out, alright?" He huffed, "I'm sorry."

"Fuck you," I sighed and turned away.

"No," he followed after me, "fuck you for thinking this would be easy."

"It's my fault?" I narrow my eyes at him.

"Why'd you have to like me, huh?"

"You moved up on me!" I argued.

"Because I knew you wanted me to, Zach!" He said in defense, "you think I couldn't tell that all your smiling and staring was coming from a fucking crush?"

"Thanks for your generosity," I jeer, "but I don't need it."

"What the hell do you expect me to do? I didn't want to have to kiss her, but that's the only way this works."

"Then why is it only ever you?" I challenge, "you're the one with the fake girlfriends and the cheerleaders and the Southeast girls. It's always Evan versus the number on the back of your jersey, right?"

"Shut up," he shakes his head.

"It's the truth, and you know it," I step up to him angrily, "you always want everyone but me."

He grabs the back of my neck and kisses me suddenly. I try to pull away, I swear...and yet every second I almost push him back, he deepens the kiss and steals my breath.

One hand moves down to my waist as he leads me backward until I feel the gate against my back.

"I'm sorry," he says in between kisses when his lips move over my jaw.

"I don't care," I say honestly.

He looks sadly into my eyes and then places his lips onto mine again as if he could change my mind.

Stand your ground, Zach.

His body presses closely against mine.

Don't cave, Zach.

My fingers tangle in his hair and suddenly I'm the one making things more intense.

"Oh, my god," I hear a gasp from someone other than us.

We pull apart fast, breathless from being on each other...and breathless from alarm.

"Karlie..." the blood drains from my face.

"I was just-" she slowly walks backward, "oh, God," she turns and runs off.

"How far away does your friend live?" I groan, "we've been on the road for an hour."

"Stop complaining," Spence responds.

"Why'd you borrow his car, anyway? You have your own."

"What's with the third degree?" He snaps.

"I just asked a question..." I say awkwardly.

"We'll get there when we get there, alright?" He says in frustration, "turn on the radio or something, you're giving me anxiety."

I furrow my eyebrows at him but say no more as I turn on the radio.

"...the fucking opera station? Who is this guy?" I scoff and Spencer stays silent, his eyes locked intently on the road. "...You don't know, do you?"

"Got a problem, little bro?" He says eerily.

"...you stole a fucking car?" My heart starts to race.

"I've got a guy in Jersey who will give me two thousand in cash for it."

"No way, pull over, I don't want to do this," I say panicked.

"Shut the fuck up, Matt."

"I'm serious, pull over the fucking car!" I shout.

"You're really pissing me off, now," I see his grip tighten on the steering wheel before I grab it and turn it to the left. The car switches lanes abruptly and is almost at the shoulder of the road when I feel his fist land hard against my face. My head swings to the side at the impact, causing blood to fly from my mouth and hit the window. "Don't you ever do that shit again!" He yells at me, but I'm too focused on the taste of blood on my tongue. "Now look what you've fucking did," he sighs and leans over to open the glove compartment. He pulls out a rag and tosses it onto my lap, "clean it up ."

"What the hell?" I breathe out as I reluctantly sit up in my bed. I look over at the window and see it's still dark outside. My mom has a key...and her shift isn't over yet...so, why do I hear knocking as if anyone else should be here in the middle of the night?

I don't bother slipping a t-shirt over my head or turning on any lights for that matter, I simply and tiredly trudge to the front door.

Now, this doesn't make sense.

"Hi, Leo..." Heather says softly, and I shield my eyes from light pouring in from the hallway.

"Do you know what time it is, butterfly?" I sigh at her.

She nods, "around two, I think."

"Why are you here?" I say in confusion.

"I didn't want to be at home...or anywhere else," Heather says vaguely.

"So, you come to me?" I furrow my eyebrows, and she shrugs before putting her hands against my chest and pushing me back enough so that she could walk in. "Yeah...sure, come in," I say sarcastically as if she's not already walking toward my bedroom.

I follow after her, still confused...still tired.

"I'm sorry if I woke you..."

"You definitely did, and if you were anyone else, I'd kill you," I chuckle and lay back in my bed.

"But since it's me..." She urges me to continue.

"Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come lay down?"

Heather almost seems surprised by my answer, but she still takes off her coat and shoes. My bed is a lot smaller than hers, and there's space for both of us, but not enough for there to be distance when she lays next to me.

We lay on our backs and stare up at the ceiling. It doesn't feel awkward...but I can practically suffocate in this tension...whatever it's coming from.

"You know you have to talk to me," I break the silence, "something made you run off at 2 A.M."

"I don't feel like it," she turns over on her side, nestling up against me.

"Okay..." I breathed out, wrapping my arm around her.

Fuck.

What are you doing to me?