While Dylan and Juliet try to organize a game of beer pong, Peyton and I climb out onto to the fire escape for a moment of quiet. Peyton has such a calmness about her that I feel the need to open up.

“So Tristan called me babe back there,” I say. “You don’t know this, but that’s like one of the only things he has said to me in…I don’t know how long.”

“Really? Why?”

I tell her my sad story.

“So what do you think is going on now?” she asks afterwards.

“I don’t know. He’s drunk. Forgot himself or something. But he did do it twice,” I say.

“Do you want to get back together with him?” she asks.

“No!” I say a little too enthusiastically. It feels like I’m trying to convince her as much as I’m trying to convince myself.

“I don’t know.” I shrug, admitting the truth. “He really hurt me. But I can’t lie. I want him to want me back.”

And then I catch myself.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. We’ve just met. I don’t know why I’m putting all my crap on you.”

“No, it’s okay,” she smiles. “Breakups can be so complicated. I should know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Dylan and I are no strangers to breaking up, let’s just say that. In fact, one of the reasons that Dylan’s not allowed in his dad’s Central Park apartment anymore is because of one of our many break ups.”

“Do tell.” I lean closer and take a sip of my martini.

“Dylan and I have had kind of a volatile relationship. Nothing bad, really. We’re both just impulsive and crazy sometimes. Keep each other on our toes, I guess. So that week, he got mad at me for going on a trip with one of my exes. He didn’t want me to go and I wanted him to actually admit it, but he wouldn’t. The details are not important. But what is important is that Dylan was staying with his dad that week. We were on spring break from school. I’m not sure what day this was, but his dad had a date. She met him at his apartment. But then Dylan’s dad got called away on some Wall Street emergency and left them alone.”

“Okay.” I nod. I have an idea where this is going.

“Well, when he came home, he caught Dylan having sex with her in his bed.”

“Oh my God! What?!”

“She was 19, only two years older than Dylan. NYU student. She’d never had sex with Dylan’s dad. They were on their first date. Well, Dylan’s dad got royally pissed and kicked him out.”

“Wow. I can’t believe that he did that. And what about you?”

Peyton sighed. “Technically, we had broken up.”

“But still,” I say. “That was kind of shitty.”

“Yeah, I guess. Except that I was so mad at him for being jealous that I ended up having sex with my ex, too. So I can’t really complain.”

I nod. I guess not.

Peyton and I finish our drinks on the fire escape. When she goes back inside to get us refills, I stay out to keep our spot in case anyone else has the same idea.

“Wow, that’s fast,” I say when I hear someone climbing out of the window behind me. I don’t turn around, but continue to stare at the black sky. Back in LA, clouds are rare and the light pollution isn’t too bad all the time, so starry nights are not all that uncommon. But here, in the middle of Manhattan, I have not seen one star since I’ve been here.

“Fast for what?” a familiar voice asks. Shivers run up my spine.

“Nothing,” I mumble. “I thought you were someone else.”

“I thought you’d be more happy to see me,” Tristan says.

He’s wearing loose fitting jeans and a Columbia t-shirt that hugs his body in all the right places. The lights of the city illuminate that familiar six-pack. Tristan’s not stocky. He’s 6 feet tall and 155 pounds of muscle. Lean, wiry, and strong. Ripped.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Nothing. I just want to hang out with my roommate. Can’t I do that, roomie?”

Tristan isn’t slurring his words, but he’s drunk. The way he’s leaning on the frame of the window makes him look like James Dean. Damn.

“Of course, you can,” I say.

“So, hey, Alice. Listen.” He comes up to me and puts his arm around my shoulder. I feel an insatiable urge to kiss him. Everything about him – the way he looks, the way he smells, the way he feels – is so familiar. If I’d had another martini, it would feel as if the last couple of weeks never even happened.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I was such a jerk to you. And now we’re living together. I mean, what the hell is that all about? But seriously, Alice. I love you. Always will. You know that?”

I stare at him. I’ve wanted him to say these words to me for so long. He sounds sincere. I look into his deep-set eyes. They’re hazel, but in this light, they look green. My eyes drift over to his lips. He has the tendency to lick them when he’s uncomfortable. Back in high school, his tendency to lick his lips used to make many girls swoon. I’m not sure if he ever knew that.

“Alice? Did you hear me?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Of course.”

“I love you, Alice.” He grabs my arm. Shivers run up my spine. His grip is firm and strong. The kind that would impress a potential employer.

“Tristan, please.” I shrug him off. “You’re drunk.”

“Hey! I’m not drunk.” He pulls me closer to him. Now, I can’t resist. I’ve only had one drink, but I’m a lightweight. “Okay, maybe, I’m a little drunk. But remember what you always said.”

“What’s that?” I can barely breathe. We’re so close, I can feel his breath on my lips.

“What you always said about being drunk. How when people are drunk they lose their inhibitions.”

“Lots of people say that.”

“Yes, but you always said that people are their truest selves when they’re drunk. It’s like without their inhibitions, people are free to be honest with themselves about who they are. So if a person is really a jerk, he’ll be a massive jerk when he’s drunk. And if he’s a nice guy, he’ll be even nicer when he’s drunk.”

“Okay, so what?”

“So what? Well, I’m drunk. And I’m telling you that I love you.”

He leans closer to me. Our lips are barely touching. He runs his fingers down my neck. I close my eyes. This is all wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. This will make everything much more complicated. I know all of these things. But I still can’t muster up the strength to stop him. I want to kiss him. I want to touch him.

He presses his lips onto mine. I kiss him back. For a moment, the whole world falls away. And nothing else exists.

“Oh my God, that took forever, Alice! Next time, you’re going!” Peyton says. And our brief moment of indiscretion crashes back to Earth.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she says and starts to climb back out of the window.

“No, no, it’s fine,” I say. With one hand, I stop her and with another, I push Tristan away from me.

He licks his lips again and flashes me a smile.

“Tristan was just leaving,” I say. I push him toward the window.

“I’m sorry, Alice,” he says. “Don’t forget, okay? I really am sorry. And I really do love you.”

“Okay, Tristan. Fine.” I roll my eyes and turn back to Peyton. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs and smiles in a mischievous way. “I leave for one second and then come back here to find you making out.”

“We weren’t making out! He just came out here and cornered me.”

“Yes, I could see that you were putting up quite a fight.”

I roll my eyes and grab my martini from her hand.