My life was falling apart right in front of my eyes.

With Serena unreachable and Bianca not somebody I wanted to speak to right now, given what I thought she’d done, I'd never felt more alone. I needed someone to talk to, somebody to comfort me and lie, tell me that it was going to be all right. But I had no one to go to, and I felt lonelier than ever. Most of my other friends were the fair-weather type. Not the close type who would actually listen to my problems.

I briefly thought about going to Allegra, but then I remembered how bitchy she'd been the last time we interacted. I had no idea what had gotten into my sister, but the mere thought of confiding in her made me shiver.

The only other option I could think of was to keep my feelings bottled up and deal with them another way, and over the years of being a socialite, I'd gotten better and better at shielding myself from reality and pretending life was just a never-ending carousel of drinks, designer handbags and must-have clothes.

I could just go back to that lifestyle for a little while, couldn't I?

I had no other options, and I needed an escape.

So that’s exactly what I’d been doing over the last couple of days since I left the Mirabella—hanging out with acquaintances who I knew didn’t really care about me all that much but always provided a good time anyway. I’d drink with them and act like nothing had even happened, like everything was peachy. And at night, I’d go home alone to the out-of-the-way vacation apartment I’d elected to stay at for now.

I couldn’t go back to the Mirabella and face everyone. Not yet. And as long as I had my purse and credit card, I didn’t need to.

Right now, I needed another distraction from the gossip site bullshit that was still making the rounds about me. My hands shook as I picked up my phone and fired off a text to one of my old friends, Blossom.

Blossom Daugherty was the daughter of two famous Hollywood actors, and she acted like she was royalty—which, when you added up the number of Oscars shared between her parents, she basically was. 

We used to be good friends when I was younger, and my parents hated her. Blossom was infamous in the socialite world. She drank even though she was underage, and she partied every night. She took pictures for Instagram with a joint between her lips and flashed her boobs on her eighteenth birthday while passing the paparazzi. She was a bad girl through and through... and maybe she was exactly what I needed.

I wanted to forget.

And if the media was so intent on painting me as a whore and a traitor, maybe I should really give them something to talk about.

I was feeling so down that the ping back from Blossom didn't even influence my mood. I read her message still feeling lethargic and sad.

Yessss! I missed you, slut! See you at Zero - the club on Rosewood Boulevard ;) I’m already here. Dress up or don't come. Can’t wait! Xxx

I sighed. Well, at least Blossom was excited about seeing me…

* * *

I was dressed to the nines, and it seemed like the paparazzi were taking notice of it.

As I made my way out of the cab on Rosewood Boulevard, cameras flashed in my face and people assaulted my personal space. They shouted and screamed as I removed my oversized tinted sunglasses, but I couldn't face them. I held my head high, and I refused to acknowledge the mob as I made my way into the club. I didn't want to deal with their poisonous bullshit. They'd done enough damage, so let them fucking talk if they wanted to. They'd already ruined my life… what more could they do?

Blossom shrieked when she saw me, waving me over from the VIP table at the top of the stairs. A bodyguard from the club escorted me upstairs, and I felt people staring as I made my way up. I hadn't been out like this in ages, but I'd made sure to dress up for the occasion in a tight-fitting, too short nude dress and spiky black heels that I’d picked up this afternoon. I knew I looked the part, complete with a daring hot pink lipstick and fake lashes, but I sure as hell didn't feel like I belonged.

Not anymore.

Blossom greeted me with enthusiastic air kisses and happy shrieking, and I smiled numbly as she introduced me to the table. I knew most of them, although there were some new faces. Blossom wasn't the kind of girl to keep steady friends unless they had something to offer her.

I ended up sitting next to a guy I knew from a while back, Derek Clare.

He was a guy I'd hooked up with a few times. Strictly making out. Despite the way the media portrayed me, I'd never really slept around. I'd had some boyfriends, but that was about it. Of course, it didn't matter anymore, not now that the photos with Kaden had come out. Everyone saw me as a bitchy whore who went behind her parents' backs to sleep with the enemy’s son, no matter what the truth was.

Whatever.

"You look great,” Derek said as I sat down next to him. He’d always been a nice guy, compared to a lot of the others who I used to hang out with. Not a sleaze or an asshole. Just nice. The only reason we weren’t still friends is because things got a little awkward when we stopped hooking up.

His hands stayed at a respectful distance even though we were crammed closely together, and I gave him a small smile before grabbing an unclaimed shot off the table in front of us and downing it in one big gulp. Blossom shrieked with pleasure and clapped her hands together when I did it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, she's back!" she exclaimed, and I gave her a small smile before making my way through two more shots.

My mouth numbed from the alcohol. I wasn't used to drinking a lot anymore, and I didn't particularly like the taste of tequila, either. Especially when I didn't even mix it with lemon and salt and just drank it straight. But I wanted to forget, and right now, tequila seemed like the perfect way to erase everything.

Even so, deep down inside me, I knew I was making a mistake. 

I should have made another attempt to get in touch with Serena. She was my real friend. She would've made me feel better. This stuff with Blossom... it was all pretend. We weren't friends, not really. We just used each other for our own benefits. But for now, I was okay with it. There was too much on my mind, too much pain and anger. I just wanted to forget.

"You still remember how to drink," Derek said with a wide grin.

"Always." I smiled back at him despite feeling number than ever. "I might need another.”

"I’ll get you one. What would you like?" he asked.

I asked him to get me an espresso martini. I'd heard that they fucked you up more than anything else while giving you energy at the same time, and I was about to find out if that claim was true.

Derek disappeared to get what I’d requested, and I found myself sitting there with these people I'd known for years but didn't know at all at the same time. Sighing, I got up and went to the bathroom alone, staring into the mirror and wondering where the hell it all went wrong.

I felt so empty. So lonely. I wanted somebody to comfort me. I wanted my mom, and my dad. I knew they'd understand if I just explained everything.

God, I wanted to get out of here. This was a terrible idea.

I left the bathroom and went back to the table. An untouched espresso martini was sitting there, and Derek was nowhere to be seen. I sat down with a sigh, waiting for him to come back. The least I could do was thank him for the drink before leaving.

He finally returned a couple of minutes later. “Sorry! Needed to take a leak. You weren’t here when I got back, but I left your drink there for you,” he said, gesturing to the martini glass. “How is it? The bartender put a honey twist in it for you.”

"Sorry, I didn’t taste it yet. I'm actually leaving," I replied. “Just wanted to say thanks and bye.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” He cocked his head to the side. "You sure you don’t want stay and chat?” he asked. He leaned forward. “Look, I know what you’re going through. It’s fucking shit. But it might help to hang out instead of being alone. I dunno.”

He shrugged, and I chewed my bottom lip as I thought about it.

On the one hand, I didn't really want to, but on the other, Derek was actually one of the only decent people in this group. Like I said earlier, the only reason we weren’t good friends nowadays was because of the awkwardness we both felt after we stopped getting together. So maybe he was right. Maybe it would help to talk things through with him.

I found myself reluctantly nodding and taking the martini glass, and I sipped at the cocktail. It was much too sweet, but still quite tasty.

As I drank, I listened to Derek telling me about a media scandal that’d happened to his cousin, who was a famous model in New York. His advice was sound, but I’d heard it all in the past. Just ride it out. There’ll be a new scandal about someone else before you know it. People will forget your thing by next week.

Yup, heard it all before, and while it was decent advice, it didn’t exactly help me right now.

As he spoke, I watched Blossom flirting with a guy across the room, and I sighed inwardly. None of it mattered—the fake friends, the parties, the brand sponsorships. It was all just a facade for an empty, lonely life.

I finally finished my drink and set my glass down. “Thanks for the pep talk. But I better go home,” I said with a sigh.

Derek nodded. “No worries. I hope you feel better soon,” he said. “And seriously, talk to your family. They might be mad about the whole scandal, but they care, and they’ll listen to your side of things.”

I nodded and tried to stand up, but for some reason, my legs felt wobbly as hell and I fell back down to the table, right into Derek's arms.

"Shit, Pey, you ok?" he asked.

I gave him a groggy smile.

I guess espresso martinis really did fuck you up.

I sat back down on the white leather couch, the fabric smooth and cool underneath my fingertips. My surroundings looked blurry, the club sounds and people blending together in a strange mix. I'd only had a few drinks. I couldn't possibly be this drunk, could I?

"I don't feel right," I said to Derek. "Did... did you see them make my drink?"

"Yeah, I was right there at the bar when they made it," he said. "But you don't look great, Pey.” Suddenly his eyes widened. “Oh, shit, no. I left the drink here for you before I went to the bathroom, remember? What if—”

"I feel dizzy," I cut in. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. My tongue felt heavy and thick, and my head was spinning. "Can we go somewhere quiet?"

"Yeah, of course." Derek helped me up, and I felt woozy as hell as he took me into one of the back rooms. I vaguely recalled his parents owning a property on Rosewood, and it must've been the club, because doors seemed to open for him without him having to say a single word. Thank god it was him, and not one of Blossom’s sleazy new guy friends.

"I’m really worried," he said. "I think someone might’ve slipped something in your drink when I left it there. I’m so sorry. I’m a fucking moron. But I’m gonna call an ambulance, okay? Just hang tight. How do you feel right now?”

"Dizzy." I was practically choking on my own words, fighting the urge to close my eyes as he sat me down on a different couch in the back room. Paranoia sank in, and my eyes sought out Derek. "How long did you leave my drink there?”

He shook his head and scratched his chin nervously. “Fuck, I don’t know. I wasn’t in the bathroom for long. And neither were you, right? It couldn’t have been that long.”

I leaned forward. “Yeah. But this doesn’t feel right…”

He nodded. “I know. This is exactly what happened to Blossom that time someone spiked her drink. And it only takes a second to slip something into a glass.” He pulled out his phone. “Anyway, I’ll call the hospital now. Try to breathe slowly. I’m so sorry, Pey. I should’ve never left your drink like that.”

I felt so woozy that I had to lean back against the couch, my head pounding with an awful stabbing pain. I couldn't even open my mouth to speak anymore, and I could barely see anything happening around me. I thought I heard Derek on the phone, talking to a 911 operator and telling them what had happened, but I forgot everything he was saying only seconds after he said it. My mind was so jumbled and screwed up.

A few minutes later, I felt Derek sit down next to me, smooth down my hair, and say soothing things to me as I drifted in and out of consciousness. It felt so fucking weird, like I was having an out of body experience. Like the real Peyton was floating above the ground, watching this whole thing go down.

Slowly, the dizziness went away, but it was replaced by nausea. I retched several times and Derek got up to get me something to puke in. I used the time when I was alone to pull out my phone, my fingers shaking violently as I typed a text to the one person I truly wanted to help me in a time like this.

Derek was nice, but he wasn’t Kaden.

I hesitated before hitting send, wondering if Kaden would even come. Did he really ever care about me? He said he did, but he also said a lot of other things which turned out to be lies.

I guess I was going to find out the truth once and for all.

I hit send.

Just then, I heard the lock on the door clicking, and Derek returned to the couch. “Don’t worry. Whoever did this to you isn’t gonna get in here. You’re safe,” I vaguely heard him say. “But the EMTs are on their way, okay?”

And then he was stroking my back again, telling me I'd be just fine as I retched above the bucket he'd brought me. A fucking champagne bucket. How appropriate.

I felt dizzy and nauseated, but still, the thought that something else wasn't right wouldn't leave me alone. I kept thinking about how Derek had locked the door. He said it was to keep out whoever spiked my drink… but how would that person be able to get in here anyway? Most people weren’t allowed in these back rooms. And surely if he did somehow find me in here, Derek could fight him off, right?

I was too disoriented and sick to think about it properly, but some deep-down part of me still knew it wasn’t right… and I was scared.

It felt like hours later when I heard banging on the door of the room we were in, although it was probably only minutes.

Loud voices came from outside and Derek jumped up to deal with the commotion. He unlocked the door, and the second he did, he went flying across the room, hitting a wall. My eyes couldn't even follow the action, and I wasn't sure whether Kaden storming inside the room was a mirage or reality.

But the moment I heard his voice I knew it was real. He was shouting something at Derek, and I sat up groggily, trying to make sense of things.

"Don't lie to me, man," Kaden snarled at Derek. I stared with my eyes wide open. "I've known you for years, you prick. I’ve heard rumors about what you do. Never thought it was true, but shit… guess I was fucking wrong.”

"Stop accusing me of bullshit, Kaden, or I'll get you thrown on your ass outside. I haven’t done anything. Someone spiked Peyton’s drink and I’m taking care of her. See?” He gestured to the couch where I was half-sitting up, blearily taking it all in. “All her clothes are on, and she’s fine. I mean, apart from how sick she feels. We’re just waiting for the EMTs to get here.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Kaden made a move to punch Derek, but he ducked. That made him really fucking mad, and he slammed Derek against the wall with strong, practiced movements. Derek tried to duck away again, but Kaden punched him in the jaw and pinned him to the wall by his throat, not allowing him to move a muscle.

"Admit you spiked her drink yourself, you sick jackass,” he hissed. “Admit it right now!"

“Fuck off!”

Kaden pressed harder on his throat. “Say it!”

"Jesus…. fine!" Derek choked out. "I did it. But I wasn't going to rape her, for fuck’s sake!"

"No. I know your sick little game, and it’s just as fucking bad," Kaden said with disgust, letting go of him and watching him crumple to the floor as he tried to catch his breath. "Spike the drink, then play the hero and take care of her, so when she feels better, she runs to you for everything, because you’ve proven yourself to be such a nice guy. What a great fucking strategy to pull chicks.” He scoffed, then went on. “I'm calling the cops."

I moved sluggishly on the couch, and Kaden was next to me in a second while Derek struggled to pick himself up.

"Are you okay?" Kaden asked, and I somehow managed to nod. He nodded back at me, relief flashing in his eyes. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm going to get you the fuck out of here."