This party blows, but at least there’s liquor. I’m sipping my third appletini as the house fills with people I haven’t seen in years. Faces I wish I could forget pop from the shadows, partners wrapped around their arms.

I don’t care.

The chatter of happy couples doesn’t move me. I block out discussions of their Christmas plans, how they intend to go ice skating, bake a pie together, and other revoltingly cute couple activities.

I’m not jealous.

I’m glad I’m single.

The last drops of the cocktail fizzle on my tongue. I stare into the bottom of another empty glass, and then I grab a handful of chocolate red-and-green M&Ms because who the hell cares? I’m not watching my weight anymore. I don’t have to endure my ex’s frequent comments warning me against too much of this or that. Eating sweets doesn’t really fix the boredom, though.

A friendly face surfaces through the crowd.

Thank God. "Liana!"

"Gigi!" A woman with sleek black hair and almond-shaped eyes waves, cherry-red lips smiling. "Oh, my god! How are you?"

"I’m good. " Liana throws a skinny arm around my neck. "You look as hot as always."

Liana was a fellow awkward geek who attended most of my science AP classes. A white Prada purse hangs from her shoulder and a ruffled black dress flows down her slim figure. A thick line of sparkling silver rides across her lids. Simple but elegant.

"You look amazing." Liana holds my arm as she pulls back. "How’s James?"

"No idea." I tip my glass before remembering there’s nothing inside. "We broke up."

"You’re kidding."

"Nope." A pang of hurt stabs my chest. "He ended it. Said he was having second thoughts."

"Well, he picked a great time to tell you. What an ass."

"Honestly, I’m not that broken up over it. Which tells me he wasn’t the right guy, anyway."

"Makes sense." Liana wets her lips with her white wine. "It’s crazy being back here. Like a mini high school reunion. Remember how awkward we were?"

"I was secretary and treasurer of the book club."

She laughs. "I remember reading Twilight and Anne Rice. We wore fan t-shirts."

Groaning, I push the empty glass over the counter. "Don’t remind me."

"We had a vampire phase growing up. So what?" Liana leans in closer, beckoning me. "You know who really changed since high school? Ronan. Damn, that guy’s filled out. He’s gorgeous."

I snap back, shaking my head. "I don’t care what he looks like. He’s persona-non grata."

"He’s right next door! And I heard he’s single." Liana twirls the wine stem, her cheeks burning. "If I were you, I’d be all over him. I’d be bumping into him in a silk camisole with no bra—"

I sputter as she cracks up. "That’s a little forward."

"Guys love it when you flaunt it, and you’ve got nice boobs."

A deep voice cuts through our conversation. "Speaking as a guy—I agree."

Liana gasps. "Were you eavesdropping?"

Ronan pauses, beer halfway raised to his mouth. "Can’t help listening in when I hear my name."

Liana raises her glass, laughing as she disappears from my side. "Gotta go to the bathroom!"

No you don’t, bitch.

Ronan’s broad shouldered frame slides into Liana’s vacated spot. Damn him for his impeccable bone structure and fashion sense. For the party, he changed into slacks and a red knit over a white shirt. I avoided looking at him the whole night, knowing, if I did, I’d fantasize. A blush creeps up my neck as I picture him naked. I’ll never be able to look at him without seeing everything.

Now he’s cornered me. There’s no escape from his tractor beam.

A playful smile dances on his face. "Gigi, you still with me?"

"I—did you say something?"

"You’re drunk." His grin widened. "I guess you’re not a good girl anymore. Are you?"

"I’m tired of that stupid nickname. And I’m thirsty." I pluck the beer from him and taste it, nodding in approval. "It’s not an IPA. You’re full of surprises, Ronan."

"Sadly, I can’t tick all of the boxes of a true bro."

At least he’s honest about what he is. "Why are you talking to me? We’ve never been friends."

"Can’t I be curious about my next-door neighbor?" He tugs my elbow. "Come. I want a drink."

Too tired to argue, I follow him into a game room where a group of college boys shriek rock ballads on a karaoke machine. Compared to the Christmas music in the foyer, it’s tolerable.

Hand wrapped around my arm, he guides me through the maze of people to a cooler packed with ice. He releases me, digging for a golden bottle.

I should leave, but I don’t like the idea of brooding on my couch, of Ronan telling everyone that Good Girl was the same old priss that wouldn’t let loose even though her engagement was canceled.

"What’s your life been like?" I steady myself on a pool table. "For some insane reason, I’m your Facebook friend."

Ronan pops the cap, raising the beer to his lips. He makes drinking a Corona look sexy, for God’s sake. That should be criminal.

"Football and school take up most of my time, but honestly I’m thinking of quitting."

"I thought football was your thing."

"In high school, sure. But I’m getting older and the injuries take longer to heal." He shrugs, taking a swig of alcohol. "I don’t know."

"Is it weird that I feel the same indecision about my life? I’m supposed to be studying for the MCAT, but I don’t want to."

"So don’t! Live a little."

"Easy for you to say." My head pounds with appletinis and beer. "You have the world by the balls. You always have."

"There you go again. Talking about balls." A hearty laugh bursts from his throat. "Is this because you saw me naked? You’ve got penis on the brain."

I do. "Shut up."

He takes my hand, actually envelopes it in his massive one. The sheer warmth of his grip steals my breath. "Sing a duet with me."

"A what?"

Ronan’s face swims closer. "Let’s do it. It’ll be fun."

My first impulse is to object, but fuck that. So drunk I can’t really stand. "Which song?"

I stumble, but he catches my waist. A gasp hitches in my throat as he flashes a grin. "How about, I Got You Babe."

My face burns. "Too romantic."

"Baby, It’s Cold Outside."

"Also very romantic." I shake my head. "Under Pressure."

"Tough song," he ribbed. "Which one do you want to be? Queen or David Bowie?"

"Queen. Definitely."

He rubs his forehead, cheeks going pink. "I can’t believe I’m doing this."

"This was your idea," I remind him.

"Yes," he sighs, resigned. "Let’s do this. A promise is a promise."

Reading the lyrics is a challenge, because the world has gone topsy-turvy. By the time Ronan says it’s our turn to sing, my mind is blank. I don’t remember which song I picked. I walk to the makeshift stage illuminated in the pink-and-blue hues of a disco ball, and try to make sense of the words scrolling across the LCD screen.

My laughter booms from the speaker as the first bars play. Ronan lifts the microphone to his lips and belts the music. People scream encouragement. They cheer as I stumble through the song, shrieking the high notes. Ronan breaks off to laugh, a deep rich sound.

Suddenly, it’s over. The red-and-blue light stops spinning. People clap. Ronan guides me off the stage, still giggling.

"Was I good?"

"Sure," Ronan chuckles. "You could barely stand, let alone sing."

I feel as light as a cloud. "It was still fun."

"Good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. It’s nice."

"I never let you see me like this. There’s a difference." A pleasant feeling inside me simmers, like the expanding warmth after drinking a shot. Every time I meet his gaze, I feel it ensnaring me.

Ronan takes my hand, pulling me into living room packed with people. He clears off a seat, still clutching me firmly, and maneuvers me down. I sink into the cushions of the loveseat. He sits beside me, closer than he’s ever been without inflicting some kind of misery on me—whether it was a water balloon or a kick-me sign.

I never thought this would happen. Ronan and I having drinks together, singing karaoke, hell, just sitting side-bye-side. And it’s not horrible.

Ronan’s expression is calm, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world. A smile curves his wet lips, and he raises his glass, toasting me. I polish off the beer, so drunk I can only focus on Ronan. It’s deafening with all the chatter and the music, but I’m tuned into him. Somehow, I know I’ll catch every word tumbling from his lips.

"Gigi," he says, softly. "How long are you in town?"

"A few weeks."

"Good. So am I."

Hold on. "What does that mean?"

"We should do this again. You’re not bad company."

"Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re still a menace." I need water. I pull away from him, but the world spins way too fast.

Quickly, he steadies me. "Where do you think you’re going?"

"I’m a bit tired. I should go home."

"I’ll take you."

Laughter bursts from my chest. "I live next door. I don’t need an escort!"

"Yeah, you do." Amusement rolls from his rich voice. "You’re wasted. I’m not going to let you hurt yourself."

I swallow my instinct to argue. He wants to play the white knight—fine. Lord knows it’s way overdue.

Arm intertwined with Ronan’s, I follow him through the maze of people, bedazzled by the swarm of red and green. I stumble over the threshold, laughing. Maybe this Christmas crap isn’t so bad.

"Damn girl. Where’s your tolerance?" Ronan stops for a moment, adjusting his grip. "Hold on."

Suddenly, I’m flying in the air, screaming. He sweeps me into his arms, and I lock my hands around his neck.

"That’s better," he says.

"What are you doing? Put me down!"

"No. This is easier."

I’m speechless, the words stolen from me by this caveman who’d rather throw a woman over his shoulder than let her walk. The nerve of him.

Who the hell does that to a stranger?

He’s not some rando. I’ve known him since I was five. Before he turned into a complete ass—before his father left—he was a sweet kid. He taught me how to catch grasshoppers. For a brief time, he was the boy I liked.

When Ronan transformed into a little shit, I thought that sweetness was lost forever, but clearly it’s still there. He buried it under layers of machismo and teenage angst.

But he’s not a boy anymore. I’ve never been more aware of that, with his rippling arms locked around me and his intoxicating scent. My weight effortless, he walks through the frigid air. Being this close to him feels so good. My heart hammers, so loud I’m sure he’ll hear. Then he’ll ask why—and I won’t have an answer. He’s close and it’s great.

A blast of warmth hits me as he unlocks our door and steps inside the darkened house.

"How did you have the key?"

"Your mom gave it to me. We talked to her on the way out." Sensing my confusion, he laughs. "Where do I put you? Wait—let me guess."

Kicking the door closed, he flips the light switch and strolls down the hall. He turns into a room with sunshine-yellow walls, and my heart throbs.

Ronan is in my bedroom.

Gently, he drops me onto the mattress. He kneels, unlacing my shoes, which clatter loudly to the floor. My hair spills over my pillow as he rips back the sheets and tucks me in. Crossing the room, he grabs several pillows and stuffs them behind my back.

"I don’t think you’ll get sick, but just in case." Ronan pulls the comforter to my chin, tucking the sheets around my body.

I’m so warm. My eyelids are like lead. "Ronan?"

"I should get back to the party." He hesitates, arm still draped across my shoulder. "You’ll be all right."

"T—thanks."

"I hope you remember this." Ronan leans over and kisses my forehead.

Suddenly, I’m hot all over. Such a chaste gesture shouldn’t inflame my body with embarrassment and desire.

"The—the kiss?"

"No." Ronan stands, grinning. "That I was nice to you."

"This is a dream, isn’t it?"

"If it was, we’d be naked." He winks before flipping the switch. "Sweet dreams, Good Girl."