“How are things going with Eric? Where’s he at tonight?” I strained to hear your reply over my ensuing thoughts and the commotion, because if I had been completely honest with myself, I’d mentioned this party to Jameson, hoping he’d insist on coming so I could see if you were here with him. I’m not sure what I would have done if he’d followed you through the door that night.

“Dude, did you see Claymore? She’s gotten hot! And her new rack, man, I want to bury my face in it!” Javier’s laugh was too loud as his scrawny arm slid around my shoulders. “Come on, you have to see this.”

I wasn’t about to move. I don’t know that I actually sensed your hatred for him at that point, or if it was still my own desperation to learn more about you, but there was no chance I was leaving. Javier’s greeting caused me to miss your damn response to the question that I’d been so anxious to hear, but your eyes flicked toward mine again before dancing away, and that slight move gave me way more hope than you’d think was possible.

“You want to get a drink or something? You used to promise me you would, and it still hasn’t happened,” Nathan continued his normal pursuit.

Javier giggled like a school girl, making more lewd comments that I probably should have been concerned over you hearing, but I blocked it all out. I had to know what your response was to Nathan.

“Maybe that’s a hint.” I wanted to high five Javier. I wanted to whoop. I wanted to look at you. Instead, I smiled at Javier because I couldn’t keep my fucking excitement in.

“Oh come on, you know you want this.” Even though you’d basically just rejected him, I remember feeling nervous all over again, and how my smile faltered with the realization that most chicks in school used to love Nathan Hudson. I kept my focus on Javier as he and Brock discussed something, but my ears were still trained on you.

“Do you want me to congratulate you on knowing how to do a sit up?” I was so relieved, babe. Yet I knew there were still several reasons to avoid you, namely, your boyfriend, Eric.

A loud scoff coming from Nathan had me turning to see what was going on. He was shaking his head at you and your lips were pursed, making your cheekbones more prominent. I don’t know how my eyes managed to finally crawl higher to see your eyes, but when they did I saw it. I saw the loathing. It surprised the hell out of me. In all of the times I’ve seen you, I’d never seen that expression, though the night of my birthday, your expression was so fractionally close, I couldn’t sleep for two nights. His head shook, as though he didn’t want to interpret the anger. “A sit up? Baby, do you know what I do to train my body to keep it in this kind of shape?”

“Come on, I showed you mine, now you show me yours.” He took another step closer to you and my muscles contracted. The familiar current of adrenaline coursed through me in preparation for him to touch you. Barbaric or not, babe, I wasn’t going to let it happen.

“Dude, and Lizette … did you see her titties tonight? She’s gained like the college forty rather than fifteen, but day-um, I think it all went to her titties!” Javier’s laughter should have been mellowing me out. I needed something to cut the focus and aggression I was feeling toward Nathan, but it didn’t. I wanted to punch him so he’d shut the hell up. “Are you hearing me, man? You have to see these things. They’re like, bam!” Javier’s hand hit my bicep as he held both of his palms out in front of him to emphasize the size of her chest.

I took a deep breath through my nose and clenched my hand in a fist to prevent my fingers from running through my hair. “Dude, what’s the deal here?” As much as I noticed you in high school, I spent ten times that trying to ignore and avoid you. I never wanted to know what guy you were dating, or who you were sleeping with.

“Are you hearing me?”

I know, I bet you can imagine my reaction. Through his inebriation and laughter, Javier read pretty damn quickly that I didn’t give a shit about Lizette’s titties.

“Hell, I don’t think so. She’s cool, though. I think I heard something a while back, but I don’t know …” I should have finished paying attention to him, but I was focused on what Nathan was saying to you.

“ ... you still think I’m a bad guy. That or you’re playing hard to get, which if that’s the case, I’ll play along.”

I caught Brock looking at me with curiosity as I took a step away from them, bringing me two steps closer to you before I saw you were looking at me. Your eyes were hard and cold, furrowed with the hint of confusion, and it stopped me.

“I’m not interested in you, Nate. I never have been.” Hearing you call him Nate caused another irrational pang of frustration to run through me. “We’d never work because you don’t understand what personal space is. And let’s face it, I’ve heard enough of your reviews to know that your open garage houses a very compact car.” You’d probably hate to hear that you caused so many jokes at his expense from that single line, but you opened the flood gates of one-liners, Ace.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with all of me, baby.” I wanted to shake my head. Nathan’s reply had to have been one of the worst pickup lines ever.

“It’s a good thing we’ll never have to find out.”

“You need to talk to me, Ace, trust me. You may even find that you like me.” You didn’t stop or turn around at Nathan’s words. Instead, you weaved through the crowds of people with your face tilted down. Nathan shook his head in exasperation as he faced us again. “She’s got some fire in those eyes. Can you imagine what she’s like between the sheets?”

I went to my full height, my shoulders squaring and my spine becoming rigid. It took everything inside of me not to hit him. I slammed my shoulder against his as I moved past him, forgetting about Javier and Brock.

I convinced myself I was following you to make sure you were alright as I slid through a group of people, successfully avoiding someone calling my name. The fact that I was starting to lie to myself a lot over that past week was a parting thought as I felt the warm breeze across my face.

Your yellow pants stood out amongst the night-darkened yard, and for some ridiculous reason I began walking over to you. I didn’t know what I was going to say. My irritation was growing with each step, as I reminded myself you weren’t mine to chase.

“You know you’re a game to him.” I could punch myself now for saying those words to you. You should have. But I leaned against the picnic table you sat on feeling temporarily impressed with my quick words, trying to act more casual than I felt by keeping my eyes focused on your shoes. They were sexy as hell, and I really hated that I was starting to be honest with myself.

“He needs to find a new opponent, because it’s not going to happen.” The frustration still resided on your face with the creasing of your forehead and brightness in your eyes, and for some godforsaken reason, I needed to know where it was coming from more than I needed to breathe.

I clenched my jaw to stop the question from leaving my mouth. I didn’t want to play your knight in shining armor. You didn’t need to be saved, your eyes made that very clear as you avoided looking at me.

“It might be easier just to sleep with him and get it over with.” You likely know now that those words were said out of some selfish need to guard myself from you, but after I said it, you looked like I’d slapped you as your eyes focused on mine with anger.

“I appreciate your advice, and you taking the time to tell me that you think so highly of me.” It was then that I saw the tiniest glimpse of your vulnerabilities. Your fingers were restless, and though your eyes were filled with frustration, they were lined with doubt.

I tried to feign calmness even though I irrationally wanted to yell at you. I know that wasn’t fair. You were fucking with my head. The entire week I’d been paying too much attention to your driveway, passing the upstairs window that looked over your backyard, and peeking around my bedroom window shade to see if yours ever opened. I wanted you to be a bitch to me so I could try to stop thinking about you. I think I already knew those days were over. They had ended when I was sixteen. Living in Alaska had only served as a partial reprieve.