The blonde chick is pulling on my hand, trying to drag me closer, nattering about how she’d like to decorate my dick with cherries, take a photo and put it up in her art class exhibition. Never heard anything so dumb in my life.

But hey, it’s her class, what the fuck do I care? I laugh, alcohol making everything easier for a while, and I crane my neck to see where the brunette Ev introduced as Amber has gone to. I swear I was looking at her one second and the next she just vanished.

Poof. Gone.

Fuck it, am I seeing things? My alcohol hallucinations normally don’t involve pretty, wide-eyed girls who glare at me, then vanish in smoke.

This is new, and well, sort of exciting. Because it’s new, idiot, I tell myself, but that’s not all. That girl… She reminds me of someone, and it exerts a strange pull on me, like an old, half-faded memory I need to chase after.

So I do, pushing the insistent blonde’s hands off me, ignoring her whiny voice asking me what’s wrong and where I’m going, and start after a certain dark-haired sliver of a dream.

Seth puts a hand on my arm and says something as I pass him by, but his words get lost in the music blasting from the stereo. Another familiar face appears before me—Dylan, my mind informs me, friend of Zane’s—and I sidestep him, so intent on my hazy mission that I almost plow into another blonde.

“Jesse, have a drink with me?” She gives me a hopeful look, and damn, it’s the girl who went down on me in the bathroom. I remember her pouring tequila on my cock and sucking it like she was dying of thirst.

Sadly, that’s all I recall—not her name, or anything else about her.

“Sorry, gotta go.” I send a strained smile her way and brush by. She grabs me from behind, snagging the hem of my T-shirt, and I curse out loud, twisting to shake her off. She’s strong, holding on tight, and I wonder what she thinks will happen if she doesn’t let go, and how much drunker she is than me—when luckily for me someone stumbles into us, and she is forced to let go.

Freedom.

Knocking into the mass of blurry people who are dancing and shifting around the room, I hurry away, not sure where I’m heading. Why the fuck am I going after the brunette anyway? Can’t remember.

The room goes kinda fuzzy and I blink my eyes to clear them. Whoa. Tequila shots sure hit hard, especially on an empty stomach. Maybe I should head to the kitchen instead, see if I can scrounge up something. I could’ve bet I saw tortilla chips and dips at some point, before I got distracted by the chicks of the party.

Chicks.

The brunette.

Where did she go? And why the hell am I still looking for her? My stomach roils dangerously. Dammit, I need some fresh air.

It was the look on her face, I think fuzzily as I stagger toward the main door that seems half open. When the blonde and I had laughed at the image of my dick decorated with cherries, the girl got a look of panic on her fine features. Her eyes had gone wide with fear.

Why would laughter scare her? Ah, a riddle. A question I want an answer to. A game.

I know all about games. I snort to myself as I push the door open and stumble outside, onto the staircase landing. And that feeling of déjà vu lingers, like an itch under my skin.

Especially when I see her there, with her back to me, leaning beside a narrow window. The night outside is lit up with neon from the huge sign atop a bar next door, and it turns her face a ghostly blue. Her eyes flick to me as the noise from the party spills out, and she frowns.

God, she’s damn pretty with her dark hair and pale skin, wide blue eyes and soft lips—and man, those curves… The girl has curves to die for.

I pull the door closed behind me, pause for a moment, and then walk over to her. She doesn’t looked very pleased to see me. Scratch that, she doesn’t look pleased at all. I fight a wince under the gale of her scowl.

“There you are,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Why did you run away?”

Her lips purse, and damn if it’s not a pretty mouth in an even prettier face. “Run from what?”

“Me.” I waggle my brows at her. “I know I look intimidating,” waggle-waggle, “but I don’t bite, not unless asked.”

She groans. “Christ. If there isn’t anything you want, could you please shut the hell up?”

Ow. She doesn’t mean what she said. Nah. “I want to know your name.”

“It’s Amber.”

See? “Hi, Embers.”

She gives me a look that could freeze hell and repeats the name slowly, dragging every sound out. “It’s Am-ber.”

Guess I deserved that. Score, though. Definitely score. Got under her skin a little there. “It’s just a pet name.”

“I’m not your pet,” she snaps. “I don’t want a pet name. My name is fine, and you can call me that.”

Whoa. “So…” I clear my throat, try to salvage the situation. “Nice party, huh?”

“The party sucks. And you suck, too.”

“No, I don’t. Though there was definitely some sucking going down tonight.” I grin, showing her all my teeth. I fiddle with the leather band around my wrist and wait for her reaction.

She doesn’t disappoint. She clucks her tongue, a noise of disgust. “God, don’t you have anywhere else you need to be?” Her hand goes to her pendant, an interesting tangle of wire and white beads in the shape of a rose that catches the light from the window.

“Nah. Nobody’s looking for me. You can have me for a while longer.”

“I don’t want to have you. Go away.”

Damn. She’s a tough nut to crack. Worse still, earlier she’d looked at me like I was candy, and now she looks at me like I’m dogshit under her shoe.

Can’t remember stepping on her fucking toes. Then again, what’s new? I annoy people. That’s why they don’t keep me around for long.

See, Helen? Told you.

Keeping the smile on, I lean on the other side of the window, sucking in the cool night air. I fumble in my pocket for my pack of smokes and my lighter. I feel unaccountably nervous, which is annoying me. What the hell do I have to be nervous about?

Let her glare. I’m immune to others’ opinions of me.

I pull out a cigarette and stick it in my mouth, then lift the lighter and draw my first lungful of toxic smoke, grinning again when she turns her gaze away.

Ah. Score.

It’s strangely satisfying to get people even more riled up with me than they were to start with. I guess it touches a dark place inside of me where my anger at the world festers—at its pettiness, its ugliness, its unfairness.

Hell, what did I do to piss her off in the first place, anyway? How is her bad mood my fault? Screw the bitch.

I can’t help looking at her, though, through the smoke I blow through barely parted lips. She hasn’t moved, despite her obvious annoyance at me, and her fall of long dark hair gleams like silk. The harsh light picks out her upturned nose and smooth cheek, the long dark lashes framing pale eyes.

Her short dress sparkles, silver threads that are woven in the dark blue textile catching the neon glow. Her ass is a perfect heart, her tits heavy, and her legs are long and shapely. For a second I wonder what she’d look like, naked underneath me, those long legs wrapped around my waist.

Shit. I suck in smoke and almost choke on it as the mental image slams into my brain. “Fuck.” I bend over, coughing.

She huffs. I thought she’d find my choking to death amusing, but not even in my dying throes can I get this girl to crack a smile.

“So,” I finally manage to draw breath, “I heard you’re moving in here, with Kayla. This makes this practically your party.”

“This isn’t my party. It’s Ev’s and Kayla’s.”

Huh. Fair enough. “Have you known them long?”

She tenses, and I have no clue why. “Only just met Kayla today. I’ve known Ev for a while, though.”

“But you’re from around here, right?”

“What’s with the third degree?” Her glare is back full force, and I blink.

What’s up with you? I wanna ask, but refrain.

“I was just making conversation,” I mutter, stubbing out my cigarette on the window sill. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

She glances my way and opens her mouth, then snaps it shut when the door behind us whines as it opens.

Heels clack on the floor.

“Jesse, babe, been looking everywhere for ya,” a female voice slurs, and arms wrap around me from behind. “Come back inside.”

Not again.

“You go.” I try to disentangle myself, but the chick behind me clings to me like a leech. She reeks of alcohol. “Hell.”

“I think you should,” Amber says, her voice flat. “I promise I won’t cry.”

“I don’t know about that. What if you do?” I push the other girl back with one hand and keep her at arm’s length. Unbelievably, she keeps trying to come back. “I bet you’ll miss my good looks and my clever comments.”

“You’re clearly delusional.”

A grin pulls at my lips. “Sex is great at curing delusions, or so I hear.”

She gives an incredulous snort. “Dream on.”

“I swear.”

“If sex could cure you, you’d be cured already.”

Ow.

Score: Amber.

“Never hurts to give it another try,” I say, grinning at her. “Never give up, that’s my motto.”

“You know, I couldn’t care less about your motto.”

I wince. God, what’s this power this chick has to stab me so deep? And why should I care if she thinks badly of me?

“Just… go back to your girl and let her help you out.” She scowls and waves at the blonde, who’s giving us confused looks.

“She’s not my girl.” I shrug with one shoulder. “But if you’re interested, maybe I can convince her to try a threesome.”

Amber’s cheeks color and her eyes flash. Man, she’s gorgeous. “I’m not interested.”

“In threesomes, or in men?” I quip, my mouth on autopilot, like it often gets when I’m agitated. “’Cuz I could watch you get off with blondie here, I wouldn’t mind. Or wait, we could also invite Kayla, your new roommate. She looked interested.”

“Screw you, asshole.” Amber pushes off the wall strides to the open door. “Not interested in you. Stay away from me.”

I laugh, but something painful twists inside my chest. I have no idea what it means, and what to do about it, so I just watch her enter the apartment and vanish in the party crowd.

Fuck. Me.

“Jesse,” the blonde whines, red lipstick smeared all over her face as she pouts at me. “I don’t feel so good. I think I’m gonna puke.”

I let her go as if burned, then grab her again when she sways on her high heels.

Goddammit. My chest still feels too tight, but I ignore it with the ease of long practice and haul the blonde back inside and straight to the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary, a typical party night—and yet something has changed.

I have this feeling I haven’t had in a while—the feeling I don’t know where I’m going and what I’m doing.

I know the cure for it, though. As soon as I make sure the blonde is not in need of a trip to the ER, I’ll grab a bottle of tequila and settle down with a mission to erase all emotion and wipe out all memories.

Sometimes it even works.

* * *

“Hey, Jesse, whatcha doing?” Rafe lifts his fist, and I bump it with mine—or try to. I manage to miss it. I see double by this point, so it’s no wonder.

“Heya. Wassup?” Damn, my mouth isn’t cooperating. My hands either, I realize, when Rafe easily pulls a glass—empty, I notice—from my lax fingers and sets it on a low table. Has to be low, ’cuz I’m sitting on the floor, my back to the wall, and it’s at eye-level.

Unless I’ve grown bigger. Kinda like the Alice eating that cake in Wonderland. It was in a book I found in one of the foster homes I’d passed through, but then I lost it.

Like I lose everything important in my life.

Did I eat cake? Can’t remember eating anything. I often forget about food. There was a time I tried hard to forget about food, because I didn’t have any, and now I can have it, I keep forgetting about it.

Figures.

“Man, you’re so fucking out of it.” Rafe grumbles as he thrusts a plastic cup into my hand, liquid sloshing inside. “Drink.”

I take a sip and grimace. “What’s this?”

“Water with sugar and salt. Chug it down already. No alcohol poisoning on my shift.” Rafe scowls at me through the blond hair falling in his face.

Second person I managed to piss off tonight, blondes excepted.

“Yessir,” I mumble and down the water in two gulps. I somehow end up with some of it on my T-shirt, and it makes me snort.

“Yo, Jesse.” Another tall form appears behind Rafe, and the Mohawk tells me I’ve drawn Zane’s eye.

Oh shit.

“Damn. Is he as piss-ass drunk as he looks?” Zane rubs a hand over his face, and the look of disappointment on it cuts deep. He’s my mentor, my teacher, the one who took me in.

Then again, feels like tonight everything cuts too deep, like I’m a reopened wound, letting the blades of words sink all the way to the bone.

“I’m okay,” I mutter and push to my feet, holding on to the sofa as the floor tilts. “See?”

“The hell you are.” Zane huffs. “What’s the matter with you, kid?”

It’s always funny how he calls me that, not being any older, but tonight I don’t find it funny.

“Everything’s fine.” Has to be fine, and I was wrong: alcohol isn’t helping me forget and get numb tonight. It rubs into my scabs, reviving every single fucking memory. “Perfect.”

“I’m driving you home,” Rafe says, grabbing my shoulder as I stumble on empty beer bottles. “Come on.”

And I go along. I paste a wide smile on my face and stagger out of the apartment, keeping my gaze straight ahead and my heart lodged somewhere in my throat, telling myself I don’t care what happens, what others think of me and where I will end up tomorrow.

If life has taught me one thing is that it makes no difference if I care, if I try—and fuck the world, anyway.