“Alice? Alice? Wake up,” I hear someone leaning over my bed and whispering. For some reason, I’m crammed and pushed all the way to the cold wall. I also don’t have any of my blankets. It’s as if they’re trapped under something big.

“Alice?” I hear the voice again.

“Hey, what the fuck, man?” I’m startled by the voice coming from my bed.

Suddenly, I realize who it is. Tristan. Tristan’s in my bed. Why? How?

“I can’t believe you, Alice,” Simon says and storms out of my room.

I push Tristan out of my bed onto the tile floor.

The bright lights in the living room hurt my eyes. I catch Simon by the elevator.

“Simon, Simon! I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why he was there.”

“Oh please.” Simon shakes his head. “I come back here to make things right and I find your ex in your bed.”

“Simon, nothing happened. Please. I went to bed alone. I have no idea why he’s there.”

My mind is racing. Why the hell is he there?

“No, I know. I know why. He can’t sleep in his room because Dylan’s got a girl there.”

“So he just had to sleep with you? Even though there’s a couch and Juliet’s bed that are both empty?”

I have no response. I’m going to kill Tristan! Simon climbs into the elevator and presses the button. I helplessly watch as the doors close.

“I’m sorry,” I say when our eyes meet one last time. But he looks away.

I go back to my room, furious.

“What the hell are you doing here, Tristan? Sleeping with me? Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m so so sorry,” he says sleepily. His hair is a mess and his eyes are barely open. “But the couch in the living room got so cold. We don’t even have a blanket there, did you know that?”

“Yes, of course, I know that! That doesn’t explain what you were doing in MY bed.” I cross my arms across my chest.

“Well, I came into your room with the intention of sleeping in Juliet’s bed. But it was so dark and her bed was full of clothes. I couldn’t figure out where the blankets began.”

“So you just got into bed with me?”

“You were all the way over to one side with your head toward the wall. There was so much space. And I was so tired.”

Tristan shrugs. His hair is all ruffled and out of place, but his eyes are twinkling. I’m mad at him, but I know I can’t stay mad for long. Not over this.

“How can I make this up to you?” he asks. “What can I do? Do you want me to go talk to Simon?”

I think about that for a second. Maybe that’s a good idea. Maybe if Simon could hear it from Tristan that we’re really over then he would actually forgive me. But what if it makes things worse? What if Tristan mouths off to Simon (and there’s a very high possibility of that)? What if they get into a fight? That would make things worse.

“No, I’ll talk to him. It’s fine.” I shrug. “You still shouldn’t have done that. You have no right to get into bed with me.”

“I know.” He shrugs. I’m disappointed that he’s not putting up more of a fight.

“You wouldn’t get into bed with me if I were Juliet, would you?”

“No, but you’re not Juliet.”

“Or some strange girl?”

“No, but you’re not some strange girl. You’re Alice. My Alice.”

He catches me off guard. His Alice? What does that mean? I stare at his face to try to gather any more clues. But I can’t read him. His expression isn’t blank, but it isn’t very revealing either. Tristan’s lips form into a mischievous smirk, which reminds me of junior year. Tristan had the exact same expression on his face when he and his best friend, Tom, broke into the principal’s office, stole her keys, and moved her car from its assigned parking spot to the back lot. Afterwards, they’d returned the keys to her purse and went on with their day. Very few of us knew what had happened, and the administration never found out. When Tristan finally admitted it to me, he had the same smirk on his face that he has now.

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not your Alice anymore.”

Thump! Thump! The sound of something hitting the furniture startles me.

“Shit, shit,” someone cries out in pain.

I run after Tristan to the living room. Juliet’s is doubled over in pain, grasping her ankle.

“Fucking couch!” she says.

“Are you okay?” Dylan asks. He’s standing in his doorway dressed in a t-shirt and boxer shorts.

I look at Juliet more closely. She’s wearing the dress that she wore out that evening, but it isn’t zipped up all the way in the back. And she’s barefoot. Her shoes are in her hand. Suddenly, everything becomes crystal clear. I look at Tristan. I can see that it’s pretty clear to him too.

“You know what this means, right?” he asks. “You need to get yourself a costume for the masquerade ball. Oh yeah, and it’s not in a couple of weeks. It’s this weekend.”

He won our bet. It wasn’t Peyton in Dylan’s room. It was some other girl. Juliet! All I can do is roll my eyes.

“What, were you guys betting on who was in there with me?” Dylan asks. For a second I think he’s mad. “That’s awesome! Who did you think it was?”

“Peyton,” I say.

“And you bet on Juliet?” Dylan asks Tristan.

“Not her specifically. Just someone who’s not Peyton.”

“You guys can go fuck yourselves.” Juliet gets up and wobbles to our room. I doubt that she’s mad about the bet. But she looks like she’s still in pain.

“What do you think you want to dress up as?” Tristan asks me. He’s actually excited about taking me there.

“I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not going. Not after what you did,” I say and turn to walk away.

“Wait, wait, a second.” Tristan puts his hand on my shoulder. “You lost the bet. You have to go.”

“No, I don’t. You just jeopardized my whole relationship with Simon with that little stunt of yours. Someone I really liked. So I’m not going to be your date at some stupid frat party.”

“I apologized for that already. Besides, what does that have to do with the bet? We made the bet way before that. I’d still be doing your laundry for two weeks if it had been Peyton,” Tristan says.

“I’m not so sure,” I say. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go.”

“That’s the point. If you lose the bet then you have to do something you don’t want to do.” Tristan looks at Dylan for support. “Talk to her, man.”

“Yeah, Tristan’s right, Alice. You lost the bet.”

“So?” I ask.

“A bet’s a bet,” Tristan and Dylan say almost in unison.

“So?” I ask.

“So, if you don’t go, you’re going to get some bad karma or something,” Dylan says.

“I already have bad karma.” I shrug. “I’m living with my ex!”