Sitting on a large, flat rock, I take in my surroundings. The sky is a brilliant purple filled with beautiful storm clouds, and people are smiling and singing and dancing. But everything is all wrong.

I inhale deeply, feeling my lungs burn with emotion as I think about the Fourth of July Bash last summer.

Charity was tossing her head back, laughing up at the night. She was standing in the bed of Levi’s truck, dancing to the radio and promising to see fireworks in Paris someday. She was alive.

The burning expands.

Levi was shaking his head with a smile, his eyes meeting mine every few seconds. He was going somewhere. Successful. Brave. Happy.

I was happy…

Thunder rumbles from afar, and my gaze drifts to the side, locking on to a pair of blue eyes that look just as haunted as I feel.

Levi is standing with a group of his old buddies, playing cornhole just a few yards away. And he’s staring at me.

God, it hurts to look at him. To share the pain. But it hurts to bear it alone too. After Charity… it was like we toppled over a cliff, with nothing to catch us. Nothing to cling to.

And we’re still falling.

“Remember how I said we need new friends?” Jenna plops down beside me on the rock, and my gaze is broken. “Well, we should have acted faster because that was Jack on the phone, and the boy is losing his mind because he lost Ethan.”

“Does that mean you need to go?”

She makes an apologetic face. “Sort of.”

I shrug. “Then go.”

“Come with me.”

“No way.” I smile. “I don’t do Jack drama. Or Ethan drama. I don’t do boy drama, period.”

“You’re so wise.” She sighs, then scrunches her nose. “But if I leave, how will you get home?”

Jenna drove me out here tonight because, apparently, the whole wide world is afraid that if I drive myself anywhere I might instantly combust or something.

“No worries,” I say, and quickly send Ellen a text asking if she’ll pick me up later. She responds with an immediate yes. “See?” I smile at Jenna. “Problem solved. Now go attend to your damsel in distress.”

“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s so what Jack is. An overgrown damsel with a penis. I swear to God, if he wasn’t so ridiculously hot I would—I would—”

“Still want to screw his brains out?”

She makes a face. “Probably.” She gathers her stuff, then hesitates. “Are you sure you’re okay if I leave?”

“I’ll take care of her,” Daren says, interrupting our conversation as he walks over and throws a lazy arm around my shoulder.

Jenna looks at him with sharp eyes. “And why would I trust you?”

“Uh… why wouldn’t you?” he says.

“Because you’re a random kisser.”

“I’m a—I’m a what?” He laughs.

“A random kisser,” she says, overenunciating each word. “You randomly kiss girls without permission.”

“Aw…” He cocks his head. “You sound jealous. Would you like me to randomly kiss you? I mean, we haven’t really met, but I feel like we could have some serious chemistry here. And I’m not above kissing complete strangers.”

She juts her jaw at him, then looks at me. “Is this guy for real?”

“He’s harmless,” I say as I casually remove Daren’s arm. “And it’s not like I need a babysitter.” God. It’s like I’m twelve years old again. “I’ll be fine. Just go.”

She looks unsure.

“Go,” I urge her, flicking my hand. “Before Ethan winds up in jail or another country.”

She kisses my cheek. “Okay. Love ya.”

As she walks away, I call out, “Tell Jack Hammer I say hi and that I’m totally on board with naming your baby Taylor.”

“Not funny,” she sings at me as she walks away.

I sing back, “Very funny.”

“Come on,” Daren says, gently cupping my elbow and turning me around. “You’re missing all the fun.”

I look at him as we walk back down the beach. “Are you okay? You seem… down.”

“Who, me?” He scoffs. “The only thing I’m down about is the fact that I don’t have a cold beer in my hand right now. A dilemma I will quickly rectify.” He grins at me, but even in the darkness I can tell his expression is strained.

“Okay.” I don’t want to push it. And even if I did, Daren isn’t the type to just spill his guts to someone. Especially not to a girl.

We walk in silence toward a large bonfire. Music playing from some unidentified source grows louder as we near, as does the laughter of all the partygoers. I wonder where Levi is—if he’s still here, if he wishes he were somewhere else.

When we reach the group, Daren says, “All right. I’m off to get my drink on. Try to stay out of trouble, would you?” He winks.

I shake my head. “You need a babysitter.”

“Ah, what a fantastically sexy idea. I’ll go look for one.” He smiles, then disappears into the sea of people dancing in the firelight.

I stay beside the giant bonfire, where I can no longer see the stars in the purple sky. Or Levi.

A flash of lightning in the distance is all I need to see to know we’re headed for a monsoon, but the clouds have yet to burst, so the jovial atmosphere is still in full swing.

I watch Zack win another round of cornhole and move on to his next opponent with a hoot of victory. He whispers something into the ear of Sierra Umbridge, and I almost roll my eyes.

Zack wasted no time finding a girl to entertain him tonight. He also wasted no time meeting my high school English teacher, the town mayor, and the guy who drives the fireworks in from Phoenix every year—who goes by “Buck,” apparently. Buck owns twenty-eight guns, a tabby cat named Priscilla, and has tentative plans to visit Miami next summer.

Sometimes I think Zack’s goal in life is to meet every person on the planet.

“You want a beer, man?” Sam asks.

I shake my head and nod at the can of soda in my hand. “I’m driving.”

“You sure? If you don’t like this kind, I think Richards has a different case in his car.”

“Nah, I’m good. Really,” I add when Sam looks unsure.

He finally shrugs and walks off to finish his own beer.

I can’t figure out why the hell everyone is being so chatty with me tonight. You’d think they hadn’t seen me in years, rather than months. Davis is retelling football stories from high school, all my great highlights; Richards has been asking me retarded questions about my job; and Sam has been offering me food and beer all night.

What the hell is going on?

Richards, who is plastered as always, keeps glancing over at me in between dirty jokes and glory stories, and I figure if anyone will break down, it’ll be him. I walk up beside him and stand there for a minute, waiting until the silence between us gets too awkward for him to ignore.

“Hey,” he says, taking a gulp of beer.

“Hey.”

“So… I know I never said this before,” he begins. “I’m a real jackass, I know, but… I’m sorry, man. About Charity.”

I nod, dumbfounded. “Uh, thanks. That’s… random.”

He shrugs. “Well, I saw Sarah’s scar today—”

“Holy shit! You saw it too?” Sam butts in, drunk. “It was wicked. Shame too. She’s got this kick-ass little body, and then bam, there’s a gnarly gash cutting right between her tits.”

My heart drops to the dirt.

“You guys talking about Sarah?” Davis leans in and shakes his head. “I couldn’t believe it.”

“Me neither,” some guy I’ve never seen before says.

I clutch my soda so tight the can starts to crinkle. “When did you guys see all this?”