Panic immediately takes over my emotions and I begin to wish that all of this is just some huge joke and that somebody will open the doors and laugh at my gullibleness. I can not be locked in the garage with Mason West. I haven't seen or talked to him in years, and now because of my fear of becoming a buzzkill of a friend I am at a party trapped in the garage with the boy from my past.

     "What's the hold up?" Mason says behind me, attitude clear in his voice and I sigh in defeat. This is not how I expected my night to go. 

     "It's locked," I say, turning around to face him. He raises his eyebrows in confusion and I nod my head towards the door. 

     I know Sofia is behind this and I can already picture her smiling at my misery.

     "What do you mean it's locked?" He says, stepping in closer to me.

     "I mean... it's locked, there isn't really another way to say it." I snap back, the anger already starting to grow inside of me.

     "Move," he says and pushes past me just like what Sofia did to me earlier. 

    I scoff at his sudden attitude, and cross my arms while I wait for him to magically open the locked door. 

    He places his hands on the door and tries to push it open, and I can't help but shake my head as I laugh escapes my lips.

     "What? Do you think I don't know how to open a door?" I ask him, attitude clear in my voice. 

     "Well I see you haven't changed a bit." He says under his breath, turning back around to face me. 

     "Excuse me?" He sighs and walks past me, sitting down on the couch. 

      Normally I wouldn't feel this awkward at a sudden run in with somebody that I used to know, but a lot has changed since he left. He may be a different boy now but so am I. I wish I could tell him about the horrors of the last three years with him gone, but I don't want to open that can of worms yet. 

     Not that it will matter to him anyways.

     I suddenly remember about the cops pulling into the driveway and I walk back to the door, cupping my fingers around the side of my head to look outside from the glass above the garage door. The sirens seem to have stopped and all the teenagers that were outside were gone.

     "The cops are just a show, relax." He says, looking over at me.

     I place my hands back to my sides and sit down on the lounge chair adjacent to the couch. I don't say anything, just nod my head. What would I say? It feels like there was this huge elephant in the room that none of us want to make aware of each other.

     "...So when'd you get back?" I finally bring myself to ask. Small talk, that's not so bad, right? I notice how he tenses a bit at my question but I chose to ignore it.

     "Yesturday." He answers shortly, looking down at the floor.

     I examine his face over once again and see all the small little dark spots of bruising. I look down a little further and spot come cuts and gashes along his knuckles.

     "What's with the cuts and bruises?" I blurt out and instantly regret it.

     "What's with you and all the fucking questions?" He snaps.

     I've only been stuck in this garage with him for a few minutes and I've already grown sick of his attitude. What's gotten into him? I sigh and sink back into the seat and stare at the ceiling. I hope Jessica and Natalie made it out okay.

     "Oh shit," I blurt out and immediately search all my pockets once I realize that Jessica and Natalie left to go to the bathroom which means they should be back soon. 

   Where's my phone? I dig my hands into my jacket pocket and then remember that Jessica put it in her bag. 

    Well shit. There goes that idea.

     Minutes pass and we continue to sit in silence.

    "Do you have your phone on you?" I ask cautiously, not trying to anger him further.

    "It's dead." 

    How could we both have forgotten to charge our phones?

     As more minutes pass I can't help but think about my life three years ago when it was all  so simple. When my father was alive, my mother was home; family intact in all. It's so weird to think of all that's changed. One minute Mason was here with me and then the next he's in Seattle without so much of a goodbye. 

    I remember our last day together, it was at Jessica's Christmas party. Mason and I had disappeared from our group and found ourselves in a closet, hiding from everyone else. It was just the two of us, we could have stayed in there for hours and would have been nothing but happy.

    That was the night I got my first kiss, it was the night when the boy I was secretly crushing on finally asked me out on a date. 

    And that night was also the last time I saw him.

    He left two days later, leaving me with one less friend and a question that to this day has never been answered: why?

    Mason stands up from the couch and walks over to the refrigerator. I pretend to not be paying attention to what he's doing but I can't help but follow his movements. 

    "Well look at what we have here." He says after he opens the refrigerator door. I look down at him and he reveals a tall clear bottle of vodka. He picks it up and unscrews the cap, then takes a big swig of the liquor, not even flinching at the taste. 

    I'm all for drinking alcohol with no flavored drink to make it go down easier, but with me there's no hiding the expression on my face for the foul taste. But I'm sure he's had many drinks in Seattle, he's probably gotten used to the taste by now.

     He slowly walks over to me and sits on the corner of the couch, arms extending  to me to hand over the bottle.

     "Let me guess, you don't drink?" He accuses as his arms still out in front of me for me to grab the bottle and I instantly grab it out of his hand.

     "Oh please, if I'm going to be trapped in a room with you I'll for sure need a drink." 

    He watches me closely as I put my lips on the bore of the bottle and decline my head back for the bitter tasting liquid to enter my mouth. I can't help my sour-faced reaction to taking a sip of alcohol, and I can see Mason smirk down at me, almost as if he's impressed.

   I quickly pass the bottle back to him and take a deep breath, trying to get rid of the God awful aftertaste.

     "I was wrong you have changed," Mason says, staring me down from head to toe. "Your tits have grown in." 

     My jaw immediately drops at his perverted remark.

    "Excuse me?"  

    "What? It's the truth, don't be offended by it." I watch as he shrugs my words off. 

     He clearly finds this amusing. I am now aware of myself more than I was before, I notice how awkward I am standing and I can't help but think Mason is looking at my every move. I look over at him as he wraps his long fingers around the vodka bottle and brings the top back to his lips, gulping the drink down.

      "How can you do that?" I ask. He takes one more sip before putting resting the bottle on the top of his thigh.

    "Do what?"

    "Drink like that, it's like water to you." He laughs at my comment and shakes his head.

    "Why is that so funny?" I ask, getting more annoyed by him.

     "You're a funny girl." He responds, and takes one more sip before putting his arm out to pass it over to me. I get this feeling that he's trying to make fun of me. Here I am barely able to drink this down while he's taking gulps.

     I quickly snatch the bottle from his grasp and take another sip, grimacing at the sour taste as look away from Mason in embarrassment. 

    I know I shouldn't be embarrassed for not being able to do it so easily but he makes me feel like an amateur.  But even then, I would rather not have him mock me for my disgusted facial expressions.

     "So was that Natalie outside?" He asks me and I nearly almost choke on the vodka as I take another sip. He's actually trying to start a conversation now? The alcohol must be hitting him.

    I nod my head as I swallow it down.

   "Wow, never would have guessed, she actually got hot."

   "She has a boyfriend." I say slightly annoyed at Mason finding a sudden interest in my friend.

   "Good for her, I'm not saying I would date the fucking girl." I take another sip from the bottle and pass it over to Mason.

   "Would that be so shocking for you to do?" He looks over at me. "Date." I clarify. He pauses for a moment and looks down at his hands.

   "It's not me." He says as his eyes stay low. "Flowers, hearts and shit. That's not who I am."

   "Why not?" I ask. I know I may be asking too many questions but I can't help it. He sinks back into the couch and adverts his gaze from me.  At first I think he'll shut me down, but to my surprise he speaks, his voice barely coming to a whisper.

    "Loving someone makes you vulnerable." He answers, his eyes remaining glued to the ceiling. "Weak." He finishes. 

   "That sounds..." I begin, as I look down at his hands again and my eyes scan over the bruised markings. "Lonely." I finish.

     His eyes look down at mine, and for a second I see a hint of emotion in his eyes, but I can't make out what it is.

   "My bed would say otherwise." He says and quickly snatches the bottle from my hands. 

    I swallow the bile rising in my throat from the thought of what Mason must be taking about. I'm not surprised he's slept with many different girls, I wouldn't expect anything less judging from what I've seen since being trapped in here with him.

  It's so strange to think that the last time we spoke, he was asking me out on a date. And now I'm sitting here next to him, and I don't even recognize the boy I'm seeing. 

I feel my head starting to ache and I blink my eyes slowly trying to concentrate on something else. I take a deep breath and relax my head on the back of the couch. This vodka is hitting me harder than I thought. It's not like I never drink, but I never usually drink so much so fast.

     "So what's changed?" I ask. He clenches his jaw and I wince internally. 

  "Do you always ask this many questions?" He snaps back at me and my shoulders deflate.

  "I-I guess I just thought that-"

  "I don't care what you thought." He interrupts. "Just don't do it again."

 "Or what?" I challenge him, feeling my anger reaching its boiling point. 

   Who does he think he is talking to me this way? He clearly doesn't know me as well as I thought if he thinks I'll just sit back and let myself be his own punching bag.

   His head snaps over to me and I watch as he slowly reaches his body forward and places the bottle on the coffee stand in front of him. He stands up and my stomach drops as I see him make his way over to me. I gulp as I question what's about to do.

    When he reaches me he leans down, placing both hands on either side of the armrest of my chair and leans in closer to me until he's at my eye-level.

    If looks could kill I would be dead in a heartbeat.

   His green eyes bore into mine. The same emotionless expression written all over his face and I swear for a moment I see his eyes flick down to my lips before looking back up to me.

    My stomach drops even further as I start to feel small compared to the large man inches away from my face.

    "Do it again and see for yourself."

    My breathing weakens at our close proximity, and I suddenly feel suffocated from the air thinning around us. My mind is racing at one hundred miles per hour as I try to comprehend what he's doing.

    I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. He notices, and just as I think I've made the wrong move I see the corner of his lips slowly start to curve upwards.

    He stays there, his breath fanning my mouth for another second or two before he pushes himself up in an upright position and walks back toward the couch.

    I let out a breath I wasn't even aware I was holding in and ignore the warm feeling in my body that's slowly starting to disappear with each move he makes.

    Oh boy, what is this alcohol doing to me?