We sit at the table and talk all evening, and Wesley joins us, too. You know, when he's done cooking. I have never had a real conversation with Wesley, but it turns out he's a pretty smart guy. Apparently he got into Harvard, which is a huge deal. I think most people who graduate from Lake City High School end up going to North Idaho College or the University of Idaho. Very few, at least, make it to the Ivy Leagues. He's also going to be an attorney, just like his grandpa. That's, oddly enough, how Wesley and Conner connected. They were both talking about their lives at the beach (because I guess that's normal), and it came out that they were both inspired by their grandfathers. Conner's grandpa was a huge role model for him, and he taught him everything he knows about photography. When he died a few years ago, he received this huge inheritance from him. He's been traveling the country since then, taking photos of all the cool places he's been and things he's seen. His dream is to work for National Geographic and to win a Pulitzer Prize. He shows us some of his pictures, and I'm surprised by their beauty.

"All right, Counter Girl," he says, turning his attention to me. "What about you? You said you play the violin?"

I nod my head, shocked he remembers this small detail about me. I think I only mentioned it once. "Yeah. I want to play for the New York Philharmonic. That's my goal, anyway. It's a long shot, but I haven't given up yet."

Conner leans his head on his hand and stares right into my eyes. My breath hitches, and I wonder if he notices. I hope he doesn't. "New York, huh? Interesting. So, are you good?"

I shrug my shoulders in a casual way, even though I know I'm fantastic. When I'm playing how I usually do. "I guess I'm okay. I've won some competitions and stuff."

Wesley rolls his eyes. "Whatever, Lauren." He looks at Conner. "Yes, she's really good. She's just trying to be modest, but she got into Juilliard not too long ago. So don't let her fool you. She's probably the best violinist in this town, if not in this whole state. Shit, maybe even the country."

"Is this true, Counter Girl?" he asks me. His eyes are wide, and I can tell he's impressed.

"I don't know about all of that," I reply, feeling my cheeks grow warm. "But I have been accepted into Juilliard. And I've been playing since I was three, so I'm pretty comfortable with the violin." I don't know why I'm trying to talk myself down. I just want him to think I'm cool. And cool girls don't spend all their free time locked in their bedroom practicing the violin, right? Not that I know much about what cool girls do. I assume they spend most of their time at the mall trying on clothes or listening to pop music at parties like this one. Which is exactly what we're listening to right now.

He grins at me, and I feel butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. "You'll have to play for me sometime. I would love to hear you."

Oh my God, I've lost count of how many times I've blushed tonight. I think at this point I'm just a walking tomato. But I'm getting less nervous as time goes by. He's just so chill. So relaxed. And he's so attentive, not just to me, but to Wesley as well. He's more than just polite. He's kind. He's caring. I've only known him for... well, for one night, and I can already see these traits in him. We talk for hours about all kinds of stuff. My music, his photography, Wesley's interest in law and his love of horses. His parents own a few, and he goes riding out in the country every weekend. These are things I didn't know about him, but I'm glad I do now. He really is a great guy. Too bad his best friend is such a jerk.

Wait. His best friend. My best friend. Oh no. Where is she? I pull my phone out of my pocket and see it's well past midnight. I jump out of my seat, and both of the boys stop talking and look at me, concern etched on their faces. "Claire! I just remembered!" Conner's brow furrows, and then understanding dawns on his face. I throw my hand over my mouth as a second realization hits me. "Oh my God! I told my mom I'd be home early tonight!" I check my phone again, and... yup, there are the text messages and missed calls. From my mother. Shit! "Shit!" I yell. Conner and Wesley both startle. "I'll be right back. I have to make a phone call. I'm so sorry," I say quickly as I dash off to find a quiet spot to call my mom.

Most people have left already, so it doesn't take long to find a place to call my mom. I hit the 'CALL' button and wait. The few seconds it takes for the call to go through is practically a lifetime. I tap my fingers against my thigh as I wait. But it doesn't take too long once the call connects. She answers on the first ring, and I am apologetic immediately. "Mom! Hi! I'm so sorry! I started talking to some friends of mine, and I lost track of the time!"

"You know, Lauren," my mom says, foregoing the greeting. I know she's about to start with the guilt trip. Which irritates me, because I'm eighteen. I'm an adult now. And it's not like I told her when I was going to be back. Just that I was going to try to come home early. "We understand you're a legal adult now. And we know you want some freedom. And your dad and I don't care how long you're out for. But you have a phone for a reason, and when we text or call you, we expect you to respond. We are your parents, and we do worry when we don't know where you are."

"Okay, mom," I say, and part of me feels kind of bad for making my parents worry. But the other part is angry that I'm having this conversation with my mom when Claire is still MIA. "I'm sorry," I say begrudgingly and only because I want to get off the phone as fast as possible. "I didn't mean to make you and Dad worry. The music is just so loud here, and I didn't hear my phone when you messaged or called. And this is the first time I've checked it all night." There's a silence between us, and I know she's thinking these excuses don't matter. "Okay. Well, I'm going to go find Claire and head home. Talk to you later."

"Okay, honey," she says. Her voice is gentle, but I know I'm not off the hook. I know we'll discuss this in more depth later. "I love you. Be safe, all right? This is a dangerous time of night for driving. Pay very close attention to other cars."

"I know," I reply exasperatedly. "I will. Love you, too, Mom. See you in a bit." I hang up the phone, shove it in my pocket, and then I run back over to the boys. They're standing up when I get back, and they both look really worried. "Hey," I pant, pressing my hands against my knees and trying to catch my breath. "I'm sorry about that. I need to get going. I'm already out way later than I should've been." Wesley nods his head, and Conner frowns. "Will you guys help me find Claire?" I ask desperately. "I haven't seen her in hours."

"Of course," Wesley replies. He looks directly at me. "I'll search outside. You guys want to take the house? It looks like most people have left already, so I doubt it'll be as crowded as it was earlier."

"Yes," I say. And then I do something that surprises us both. I reach up and hug him. He's startled by my sudden act of affection, and so am I. But I have just spent most of my evening talking to him. Getting to know him. And he's so great. And I'm leaving, and I feel like I just wasted all of these years walking by him in the halls, acting like he's nothing but a shadow of Kev. For the first time in all the years we've known each other I'm starting to see him as Wesley. Just Wesley. Without Kev. I pull away quickly, grab his phone, and type my number into it. "If you find her, text me, okay?" Then I send myself a text from his phone, so I have his number as well. "If I find her, I'll text you."

He nods his head, not at all bothered by the fact I just added my number into his phone without his permission. That's, like, really rude, and totally against all forms of phone etiquette. But he just slides his phone into his pocket and says, "Okay. Good luck." Then he runs around the yard, beginning his search both for his best friend and mine. I take off at a run to the house, and I can hear Conner running beside me. It doesn't take much for him to keep up with me, as he's so much taller than I am. We make it to the house, I throw open the sliding glass door, and we dart inside.

Wesley was right. There are very few people left at the party. The loud music from earlier is still playing, but no one is dancing to it like before. There are still some people sitting on the couch and chairs. One couple is making out in a recliner, the light behind them turned off so you can barely see them. There's a guy I recognize from school on the floor. He's not passed out. He's just sitting there, red solo cup still in hand. His eyes look zoned out, and I can tell he's high off his ass. I've only been high once. Didn't care for how it made me feel. Haven't done it since. I see a few others passed out, but no Claire.

"Okay, so," Conner says, and I'm amazed he's not out of breath from running. I'm practically dying. God I'm out of shape. All that sitting behind a counter is not doing good things for me. "I have never met your friend Claire, and I have no idea what she looks like. Want to give me a brief description?"

"She's blonde," I pant, sliding my hair out of my face. "And...." I close my eyes, trying to think of something else about Claire. Something that will help him. But I don't even remember what she was wearing. And I can't think of a better way to describe her other than blonde. It's like my anxiety has taken over my brain. I can't think of anything but finding her and getting home before I get into more trouble.

He shakes his head, seeming to know what I'm thinking. "That's fine. I can work with blonde." He looks over at me and sees my eyes are filling with tears. I'm trying to keep my cool, but I'm actually worried about my friend. God, I'm so stupid. I can't believe I left her alone like that for so long. Who knows where she's at or what she's doing? "Don't worry," he says calmly. "We'll find her before you get into any more trouble. And as for your friend.... I bet she's perfectly fine."

He doesn't even know me all that well, and yet he seems to know exactly what's going on in my brain. Am I that easy to read? I nod my head, hoping he's right. About all of it. My hair falls into my face again, and I groan in frustration. I wish I had a hair tie or something to pull it back with. He puts his hand on my arm and forces me to come to a stop. Then he swings me around and looks directly into my eyes in a way he hasn't done before. "Lauren," he whispers, and it's the first time he's said my name since he introduced me to Wes earlier, "it's going to be okay." He pushes the annoying strand out of my eyes and tucks it behind my ear. Butterflies. Again. Wow, he's gorgeous. "We'll find her. I promise."

And even though I've only known him for a few hours, I believe him. He's so sincere and honest and gentle. And I look at his lips, and I want to kiss him. But no. I can't. We have to find Claire. I pull away, biting my lip anxiously, and whisper, "Thanks." He nods his head, and he's more serious than I've seen him all night. Then we carry on with our search, and I feel a lot less stressed than I did just moments ago. Once again, he has a weird effect on me. I can't explain it, and I don't know if anyone can.

We search all the rooms (jeeze, this house has a shit ton of rooms), but they're all empty. So we go back and search again, this time checking behind every door or piece of furniture. The longer it takes us to find her, the more frantic I get. I don't know why. I just have this horrible sinking feeling something is wrong. My phone bings, and I'm excited to see it's from Wesley. I check his message, but all it says is he called Kev and he says he left Claire hours ago. It also says he hasn't found her yet, but he's still looking. A wave of affection for him washes over me, and I'm so thankful for his help. I text him and tell him thank you, and then continue my search, Conner right at my heel. I know we should split up. That it'd be more efficient. But I can't stand the idea of him leaving me right now. I need him.

I run into the last room and start checking under the bed while Conner checks the closets. And then I hear his voice. "I think I found her!" My heart jumps into my throat, and I swing around and dash over to the closet where he's standing. It's her. She's lying against the wall inside the closet, and she does not look good at all. There's vomit all over her clothes and in her hair, which is all messed up. Her lipstick is smeared across her face, and her eyes are half open. She looks almost dead, which scares the shit out of me. I am the worst friend in the world! How long has she been sitting in here? Her phone is in her hand, and I see she was trying to send a message before she passed out.

For a moment I just stand there, unable to believe the mess in this closet is my best friend. Tears start to form in my eyes again as Conner bends down and checks her pulse. Then he sighs with relief and says, "She's okay. She has a strong pulse." I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. "But she's really drunk. And high. Not sure what she's on, but it looks like she's okay."

I don't ask him how he knows these things. It doesn't matter right now. All that matters is we get her somewhere safe. "Can you lift her up?" I ask, hearing the shakiness in my own voice. He nods his head, then leans down and slowly wraps his arms around her. Some of her vomit gets on his shirt, and I want to gag. But he doesn't seem affected at all. He lifts her up with ease and carries her out of the room while I text Wesley that we found her. By the time we get down the stairs, Wesley is waiting for us. He helps Conner some, but he mostly just follows us out to my car. They lay her down in the back seat and struggle to get on her seatbelt. Then Conner closes the door and looks at me.

"Okay, well." He stands awkwardly in front of me, shuffling his converse sneakers against the gravel driveway. "I guess that's it. Take care, Counter Girl."

I shove my hands in my pockets. "Thanks," I reply. I wish I knew what to do next. Wish I knew what to say. It's time to leave, and I'm not ready. But I have to get Claire home, and I have to get home myself before my parents have a conniption fit. I want to look at Conner, but I'm finding it difficult. So I look up at Wesley and say, "Thanks again. For everything. I had a lot of fun tonight. You throw great parties."

He smiles and rubs the back of his neck. "I don't know about all that. But thanks. It was nice having you here, Lauren."

I nod my head, look up at both of them, and say, "Well... I should probably go." They nod their heads and I begin walking to the driver's side. I open the door, slide in, and put the key in the ignition. I'm just about to drive off when I hear a gentle knock on my passenger side window. It's Conner. I roll down my window, and ask, "Yes?"

He leans against the open window like he did my counter Friday afternoon, and he's giving me his crooked smile. You know, the super hot one that gives me goosebumps. "So, this is really awkward. But Wes drove me here. My car is at my place. And I don't really have a way home. Think you could give me a ride?"

There are a million stupid things I could say. I could say no, and that I don't feel comfortable being alone with someone I just met. I could ask why Wesley can't take him home, since he's the one who picked him up to begin with. But, for once, I don't say anything stupid. I just smile and say, "Sure thing. Hop in." His eyes sparkle as I unlock the door and he slides into the passenger seat. Then he buckles his seatbelt, rests his arm outside the open window, and waves at Wesley. He waves back at the both of us, and I catch a knowing smirk on his face again before I drive away. Soon he becomes a small figure in my rearview mirror, and then I turn out of his driveway and he disappears altogether.