Anger. It starts in the chest and moves outward until the whole body is alight with fire. The heat makes it incapable to produce a coherent thought, as if a fire is blazing in the brain. Hate pours at random on anyone caught in the path. Tonight, that person is Jordan. Well, to be honest, he began the angry blaze that burns inside me, but still, as I sit here at this party, I want to hurt someone.

Where do I begin? Oh Jordan, sweet little Jordan… I guess I’ll start at the beginning.

I moved from Ohio to Florida on a whim to attend college. Ohio just wasn’t working out for me, and it was best I left. I lived in a small town just outside of Columbus, and one fine morning I packed up my little Subaru and headed south. There was a little more planning than that, but you get the point.

When I first arrived in Palm Beach, Florida, it was scary to be so alone. The town wasn’t at all what I expected. There were palm trees and sandy beaches everywhere, but the place had style. In the middle of the island was a classic hotel called The Breakers, which was the stomping ground to many famous people: the Kennedys, the Trumps, and, of course, Mr. Henry Flagler, himself. He made this island what it is today. He built a railroad to bring the elite of New York down south. Everywhere you turned here there was a Mercedes or a Bentley carrying lavishly wealthy people who didn’t know what it was like to work for their money.

I rented a studio apartment that I leased month-to-month. At night, I’d hear every little creak in the place and stay up most nights, terrified.

I wanted to be stronger, but given my past, fear was my middle name. After a few weeks, I found a job, then started to go to school, and life was chugging along. Still afraid, though, my calls home to Mom were nightly.

The job, at a restaurant called Pesto’s, is where I first met Maxine. Strong, exuberant, and full of life, she was someone I wanted to be just like and we became instant friends.

One day, she asked if I wanted to move in, and I jumped at the chance: no more being afraid? yes, please.

Then, this semester, I met Jordan in a class of mine. Sweet guy. No! He is! We hit it off and now hang out all the time.

A few months later and here we are. At a party to which, thankfully, I drove my own car. I always drive: that way, I can leave whenever I want. Tonight, Maxine and I came together and Jordan met me as soon as I stepped inside the house. I’m happy to be here but am not feeling the vibe one normally feels at a rockin’ college party. I don’t know too many people here, and as soon as we arrived, Maxine went to hang with Darren, her boyfriend.

Now Darren is sitting with his friends, playing poker, but Maxine is nowhere to be found. Typical.

Back to Jordan. Yes, good ol’ Jordan. From the minute I saw him tonight, he has been giving me attitude.

When I asked him what was wrong, he told me he cared for me, but I should move back to Ohio.

How can he think this? He explained that I may be safer in Ohio with my parents taking care of me. He has always treated me the way an older brother treats a younger sister. Upset and angry, I tried to fight back, but Jordan kept saying that I need to leave Florida.

The poker game is in full swing and grabs my attention. Tony is the only person I know at the card table besides Darren. Tony’s in a class of mine and asked me out months back. I said no, though, and now we never talk.

Next to them is a dark-haired hottie who everyone knows. Trace Weston. Sex on a stick and yummy to lick. Okay, honestly, I don’t know where that came from! And I wouldn’t know if he is yummy to lick because I have never licked, let alone talked, to him. He does seem like a smooth talker, and, from what I hear, relationships are a foreign concept to him.

I watch their faces grow serious, and then they all look over at me. I try to focus on Jordan, who is standing so close, I feel the anger again.

“I really think you should consider going home for a while.”

“What? Why? I like it here,” I say.

“I just think it would be best for your safety.”

His comment makes me scowl; I wonder what he knows that I don’t.

“What do you mean?” I glance back over to the poker game, where the guys are all sitting there, staring at each other again.

“Nothing. Just forget I mentioned anything.”

“No, now you have my attention,” I say, focusing on him.

“I just have a bad feeling.”

Where was this all coming from? Did he know something about my past? I smile, pretending not to be affected by his words.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please, Vanessa, please think about it,” Jordan says as he grabs my shoulders and tries to talk some sense into me.

“Think about what? I’m not going anywhere. You don’t understand.” My heel is up against the wall, and I cross my arms.

“Give me a little credit, Ness.” He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

I glance back toward the poker game as Trace throws his chips across the table. He glances my way, and I’m in shell shock. All eyes are on him, including mine, and I can’t turn away. What am I doing here? Why did I let Maxine drag me to this party? Then Trace stalks over to the dance floor and grabs a brunette by the waist, whispers in her ear, and walks out the front door.

My head jerks back to Jordan, and I fake a smile.

“Excuse me, I need to find the restroom.” I walk away from him and search for Maxine. Where can she be?

The house is amazing, with large floor-to-ceiling windows that show off the ocean. People are everywhere, and I try my hardest to find her. I turn the corner, walk through a darkened hallway, and find a set of eyes staring straight at me.

“Hello, who is that?” I call out to the shadowy figure.

“Hey, Vanessa, I’m glad you’re here.”

The light from the moon filters through a far window, and I can almost make out a face.

“Tony? Is that you?”

“Yeah. How’s your night going?” he asks, coming closer.

“Uhh, I mean, it’s going okay.”

“Oh. Not having a good time, are ya?” He is standing right in front of me, and I can see the shadows lining his features. His chiseled nose is more prominent in the shadows, and I can barely make out the soft blond color of his hair.

“Hardly.” I laugh.

“Maybe I can make it better.” He leans in, taking my chin in his fingers. He grips tight and causes me to wince in pain. My heartbeat picks up, and I panic a little. His lips brush mine, and I jerk back.

“Tony, I don’t think we should…”

He drops my chin, steps back, and smiles. “Well, come on now.”

“What? No, Tony. Please.”

“Listen, we need to stop playing this little cat and mouse game. I’ll see ya around.” With that, he brushes past me and rejoins the party.

I just can’t be here anymore. My heels click and clack along the hall tile, and I rush through the house. Jordan’s in the kitchen; I duck out the back door.

I’m glad I had enough sense to bring my own car. I start the engine and breathe. My music blares at full volume as the house party fades in my rear view.

Where was Maxine? Why was Jordan being a jerk? And what was up with Tony? I guess he had kicked back one too many beers or something. Home is the only place I want to be. My thoughts swirl in my head while I drive.

After heading a good fifteen minutes down the street, a sputtering noise begins in my engine. Frantically, I pull off the road as the car gives one loud screech. Great, now what?

I turn the key, and it just clicks. Perfect. The car just sits there, unable to start. Piece of junk. It served me well in the beginning, and maybe I’ve been negligent on maintenance, but who has time for an oil change?

Walking in heels should be illegal on sodden concrete, but I need to get somewhere, anywhere. Why didn’t I charge my phone before the party?

If I stay on this road, I’ll end up at work. The restaurant isn’t open now, but I keep moving. Tap, tap, tap. My heels smack the pavement. It rained earlier, so the mud and muck has mixed, creating a slippery goo on the road. Tap, tap, oh no! My ankle twists, causing me to sidestep and rip my skirt at the seam. Oh geeze! The cause of my slip? My stupid shoe. The heel has broken. That will teach me to buy things from secondhand stores. (Fitting in with Palm Beach socialites is next to impossible, and on my budget, I may have picked up a few things on consignment a time or two. Okay, maybe a lot more than that.)

I assess my skirt. It’s not bad, just a nice slutty slit up the back. Maybe it will help with a ride—ha, ha! I’m totally screwed here. Tap, thud, tap, thud. I continue walking, and with one heel on and one off, I feel as if I was born on the side of a hill.

A car appears off in the distance, and I freeze. Should I hitchhike? Should I try to flag the driver for help?

Headlights come upon me fast, and the car doesn’t stop. I jump out of the way, as the car barrels towards me, missing me by half an inch.

The car halts then starts flashing its hazard lights in my face. The driver steps out of his car—strike that: fancy sports car—and heads in my direction.

“Hey, I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

A shiver runs through me as I settle on a set of deep, dark eyes.

Trace Weston, oh my God.

Do you think he will notice if I go and hide behind a tree? I think I can pull it off. Oh, who am I kidding? I want to tell him off for almost hitting me, but the concerned expression in his eyes consumes me.

“Do I look okay to you?” I huff.

He looks me up and down, smiles, and crosses his arms.

“Could be worse.”

“Pfft. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, I’m sorry. We’re getting off on the wrong foot. My name is Trace, and you are?”

“Vanessa.”

“Well, Vanessa, can I give you a lift?”

“Go for a ride with you?” I’m too mad to think—again, not mad at him, but upset at life right now. My anger bubbles; a hot tub, sexy book, and candles call my name.

“Yeah, it’s not such a crazy idea. Was that your car back there?”

“Yes, it died on me.” I almost want to add “rest in peace,” because I’m sure the car will never run again.

“Well, I can’t leave you out here. Is there someone I can call?” His smile is infectious, full of big, pearly whites. Makes me want to see more of it.

At the party, he was so angry, and I thought for sure he was having a worse night then I was. However, ha, ha, everyone knows I’m hands-down having the worst night.

“No, no one to call.”

“How about some coffee?” He smiles an all-around smile that catches my breath.