(Song of the chapter: 'No Control' - One Direction)

AVALON

I finally found my brother. He was outside the double doors, leaning against a porch railing that overlooked a quite expansive backyard. People ran around the yard, giggling like school girls and opening their mouths wide to catch the liquid coming from the lawn sprinklers. The champagne sprinklers, I was guessing.

He wasn't alone. A blonde-haired girl with big boobs was attached to his side, stroking his arm and cooing sweet nothings into his ear.

Archer didn't even seem to notice her. He was watching the party-goers frolicking about with a distant expression on his face.

I decided to step in and save my brother. I walked over to them and cleared my throat.

"You're in my spot," I told the blonde when she turned to face me.

Her face curdled like milk. "Hey, back off! I was here first!"

My stomach turned in disgust. The only thing worse than having my brother treated like some hot commodity was having some stranger be under the misconception that I, too, wanted in on the action.

"Eww. No. Just, no." I shook my head, my hair bouncing against my cheeks.

"This is a family matter, blondie, not whatever you're thinking. Now leave my cousin to me. I need to talk to him."

Some of the feral light died in her eyes, but she didn't budge an inch.

"No, you can talk to him later. He's mine right now," she whined, gripping his arm tighter.

Archer still wasn't paying any attention – to either of us. I sighed. Time for a change of plans.

I reached into his mind and dialed up the volume on my thoughts.

ARCHER!!!

He jolted, finally alert. I watched as he turned and noticed me standing there for the first time. He blinked twice, as if wondering whether I was actually there or just a figment of his imagination.

I waved my solo cup at him.

Blondie, too, realized that Archer was finally present. "Hey, wanna get out of here?" she crooned sultrily.

I grimaced. I'd need to get pretty drunk to wipe the scene – and the insinuation – from my brain.

"I'm still here, ya know?" I protested, cringing.

Archer faced the girl, surveyed her from top to bottom, then firmly pried her fingers from his arm.

"Not interested."

She retracted, gasping in indignation. "Whatever."

She dramatically tossed her hair and sashayed away, looking back once to see if Archer was watching her go.

He wasn't. He was staring at me like I was a petunia in a bed of full of daisies. One of those things clearly was not like the other.

"What are you doing here?" He asked in obvious confusion.

"I was invited." I sipped my drink casually, like I got invited to college parties all the time and it wasn't my first time drinking alcohol.

"Why are you here?" I asked him, moving to lean by his side against the rail.

He shrugged. "Same reason, I guess."

"No, I mean, why are you here here? You look like you're hiding," I observed.

"That's because I'm not sure why I came."

I snorted. "Oath to that, brother." I lifted my cup to him and took another sip of my drink. Wow, this stuff was really good.

Archer groaned like something pained him and put his head in his hands.

"Her scent is everywhere," he complained.

Ah, so this was the root of his problem.

"It's driving me insane. She's all over the house, the furniture, you... Even your drink smells like her," he remarked after taking a careful sniff of my cup.

"Well, it is her house," I pointed out nonchalantly. Archer looked at me in surprise.

"Yeah, we've met. She gave me this drink, by the way. That's why it smells like her," I told him.

I tapped my blue nails on my chin, thinking for a second.

"She's very pretty," I noted, "and so airy. She reminds me of a butterfly."

"Wings." A corner of his mouth tilted up. "You're close," he said, taking my cup and drinking out of it. I let him, choosing not to ask what his statement meant. I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"She likes girls, Archer."

Archer's face scrunched up in pain. "I know that," he spoke through clenched teeth, "trust me, I do." He took another gulp of vodka, a bigger one this time.

I chewed my lip as I watched him. It could've been nothing, but...

"I don't think you should lose hope, though."

Archer's eyes probed me as I took my drink back. "What do you mean by that?"

I swallowed. "It's just, when I asked her about you, there was a reaction. A not-nothing reaction."

He was appalled. "You asked her about me? Why would you do that?"

I glared at him. "You do realize I have been dreaming of this girl, right? Give me a break, I was just asking her whether she knew if you were at the party."

I drank the last liquor from the cup then frowned once it was empty.

"You finished my alcohol," I pouted.

Archer snorted. "Please, that was nothing."

It was true. I hardly even felt the liquor I'd just consumed.

"You need real alcohol, the strong stuff. Come to think of it, I'm just realizing that this is your first party. I need to get you loose so you can enjoy it. Which means you need to get drunk."

I stared at him. "Everybody seems to want to turn me into some party animal. What's wrong with me the way I am?"

He smirked. "A lotta stuff, my dear sister. I can't even go into all the details." He threw his head back and laughed when I scowled at him.

"Don't fret," he threw an arm around my shoulder. "I will succeed. Come on."

I allowed my brother to guide me back into the room. I leaned my head against his shoulder, pursing my lips to hide my smile.

It was good that he was no longer feeling so down because I hated to see him miserable. For that reason, I fully intended to allow myself to be a scapegoat for his much-needed amusement.

He steered me towards a table littered with red solo cups which a group of college boys were standing around. They looked up as we approached.

"Archer." One of the guys with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes nodded at us. He looked ruggedly handsome, in that all-American boy sort of way. One of his teeth was snaggled at the front, which only made him even more adorable.

"What's up, dude?"

Archer brought us to a stop in front of them and placed his hands on my arms.

"This is Avalon. My cousin," he deliberately drew out the word, letting them know I was off-limits.

"I'm gonna go grab something and be right back, so I need you to watch over her for a while. Let her join your little game."

He lowered his head to look at me. "Stay here, I'll be right back, okay?" he whispered.

He looked relieved when I nodded, and with one last warning glance at the guys he spun around and walked away.

I tried not to look anxious when all their eyes swiveled over to me.

"Sup?" Okay, I was still capable of speech. I could do this.

A guy with an Indian-looking face across the table peered at me with open curiosity. "Are you really Archer's cousin?"

I nodded. The guy closest to him on my right whistled, looking me up and down.

"Hot damn. Those good genes do run in the family though."

"Don't even think about it," Dirty Blonde said while the other guys laughed. He smiled with wry amusement.

"He will kill you and bury you in an unmarked grave."

"Right?" One guy piped up, causing another round of laugher. I refrained from telling them just how right they were.

Dirty Blonde turned to me. "Sorry about these animals," he joked. He stuck out his hand.

"I'm Jason."

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, then clasped his hand.

"Um, I'm Avalon."

There was a round of introductions. A few more jokes were tossed here and there, and I started to feel a little more at ease.

"So, what are you guys playing?" I felt brave enough to ask.

Jason looked down at the table and picked up a ping-pong ball. I blinked at it.

"This is beer pong. You need to throw the ball at the cups on your opponent's side and make sure it lands inside one. If you lose, you have to drink. If you don't, they drink. Miss too many times and you'll get so drunk it'll mess up your coordination." He held the ball out to me.

"Are you in?"

It seemed simple enough. "Okay, I'm in." I took the ball.

"Great," he smiled. The guy honestly looked like a cherub.

"You're on our side of the table. You can go first."

They all stared at me expectantly. They probably anticipated that I was gonna suck and were inwardly making bets.

I tried not to smirk. One thing about werewolves: we had great hand-eye coordination.

I angled my head this way and that and breathed out, making a show of prepping myself. Then I held the ball up and aimed.

I tossed the ball. It sailed across the table and thunked perfectly into a tiny pool of alcohol.

The guys on my side whooped. I allowed myself a smile and gracefully curtsied. This was going to be a piece of cake.

RILEY

Okay, I was being ridiculous. Probably even more ridiculous than I thought I was being. Because if I was thinking of Archer in that way, I needed to have my head examined.

Alright, so maybe – and that was a big maybe – I was bi. Or... something else. I still wasn't clear about all the details.

But so what? I still couldn't start anything, or even dream of starting something with fricking Archer! The guy was as bad as me in the dating game, and I can't date myself! That would just prove that my ex was right about calling me a narcissist.

And even if I'd heard from, um... anonymous sources, that he'd quit sleeping around (not that that was important, or that I was checking, or anything), still, nothing could happen between us.

I mean, he was probably taking a vow of celibacy too! Yeah, that was believable. Two sex-deprived players coming together did not spell out anything good, for either of us. And so what if he'd stopped seeing other people only after he met me? I was a natural trendsetter; maybe I'd inadvertently caused him to change his ways.

I was just that much of an icon.

Thus, I concluded, the only thing there was to do about it was to forget about it. And I was currently working towards that, since I had my second drink of the night in hand.

I'd just lowered it after a good gulp of liquor, and then turned the corner when I bumped into someone.

Like full body, sumo wrestler chest bump type of collision. I skid back a little in my heels, but I managed to catch myself. I guess my balance wasn't completely shot.

I looked over to see the poor individual who I'd just assaulted, and froze when I saw Archer standing there like I'd conjured him out of my thoughts and into open space.

I gaped at him. He stared at me. Nobody spoke for a few seconds.

"You came," was the first thing out of my dumb, ditzy mouth.

"I did."

His voice was gentle, and sounded just as nice as I remembered. Which shouldn't have been the case since I'd practically just attacked him.

Wait, why was I thinking of how nice his voice sounded at a time like this?

I glanced down at my empty cup, then back up at him.

"I just spilled my drink all over you." The dim light didn't illuminate the dark spot on his black t-shirt, but where else would the drink have gone?

"Seems so." He calmly raised a hand to his lips and tasted some of the alcohol that had landed there.

"What is that, Scotch?" He inquired.

There was no explanation for what I did next. I was just so stunned, and he was acting so calm.

I burst out laughing.

He raised his eyebrows. I'm sure he thought I'd completely lost it, and I couldn't blame him.

"I'm sorry," I said in between giggles. "So not the right reaction."

Alarm finally kicked in, which was the right reaction. My laughter died abruptly.

"Shit!" I looked at him with widened eyes. "I just spilled my drink all over you!"

Archer's lip twitched. "I'm sure we've been over this already."

I flapped my arms around his torso. "Well don't just stand there drowning on dry land! Come on!"

I ditched my red solo cup and hauled him by the arm in the direction of the kitchen.

He followed easily.

"Sit!" I pointed at a chair by the kitchen island.

He sat.

"Shit, shit, shit, I am so sorry." Panicking, I flung open drawers one after the other until I found a roll of paper towels, then carried the whole thing over to him.

"You must think I'm such a klutz," I babbled as I ripped off several sheets and started dabbing his chest.

"I mean, you wouldn't be wrong right now, but I'm not usually. At least I don't think so. I mean, I don't usually go around spilling alcohol on people. Well, not unintentionally. Some people want alcohol spilled all over them, and I'm the type to give people what they want, y'know? But you don't look like you wanted to have alcohol spilled all over you just then. I mean, if you did, cool, but if I went around spilling alcohol on people who didn't want alcohol spilled on them, no one would come to my parties ever again. And I'm really glad that you came! I want you to be glad you came too, because my parties are pretty terrific. Your first introduction to one of them shouldn't be that this alcohol-spilling maniac just spilled alcohol on you when you weren't asking for alcohol to be spilled on you. That's like... harassment. Wait, can that be qualified as harassment?"

It felt more like I was stabbing him with paper towels instead of dabbing like I was supposed to, but I couldn't help myself.

I cringed. "Shit, I should just stop talking. Anyways, I'm really, really, really, really sorry..."

Archer held my wrists with his hands, causing me to stop my motions. I looked up to see him trying not to laugh.

"Riley, stop apologizing. It's okay, and I'm not mad." He smiled and gently pried my hands away from his abdomen.

"I'm fine. It's just a shirt."

And as I watched, he shrugged off his leather jacket and peeled the shirt from his body.

My jaw slackened as the rigged lines of his pecs clenched while he raised the shirt above his head. I'd seen many male models and fitness trainers with great bodies, but Archer was way more ripped and hot.

Okay, there was no question about it: I was definitely attracted to this guy, whatever that meant for me.

There was a tattoo of what looked like a rose by his hip, and I was peeking a glance at it when he got the shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

I snapped my lips closed and prayed very hard that I wasn't blushing. He picked up his jacket and put it back on, leaving his chest still in full-view... but I couldn't reach out and touch it.

I averted my eyes and glared the ceiling. Damn you, Karma!

I floundered around for something to say. "Um, I could get that washed for you," I offered, waving at his discarded shirt.

"I mean, not now, since it would be pretty weird to be doing laundry at a party. But soon. I could get it back to you pretty soon."

Archer shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Like I said, it's just a shirt. I have more."

It was a plain black tee, but what else was I supposed to do with it?

I looked back at him to say something along those lines when I saw him surveying the bottles of liquor in my cabinets. As I watched, he reached up and grabbed one, and I got a second look at those muscles flexing.

I raised my hand to my lips and bit into the flesh. It occurred to me that he might just be doing this on-purpose.

If he was, it was working, because I was totally unable to tear my eyes away.

He retrieved a bottle of Jack Daniels and studied it before nodding approvingly.

"It's a great party, Riley, and I'm glad I came." He grinned at me and saluted me with the bottle.

"Wait!" I tore my hand away from my mouth to speak just before he walked out of the room. He paused, looking at me questioningly.

I took a hesitant step towards him. "Look, I know you say you're not mad, but I can't help feeling like I just shot whatever chance I had at a friendship with you to hell. So, um, are we friends? You and I?"

I tried to sound casual, like I didn't really care about the answer. But I did. It really mattered to me.

Archer looked at me. The weight of his gaze was heavier than anything I'd ever known. Those eyes held mine as he took one step, then another, until he was less than a foot away from me.

He was taller than me, I realized. I'd never been with anyone taller than me. My model lovers were at most my height.

Another thing I realized was that I was backed up against the kitchen island with nowhere to go. And I didn't want to go anywhere.

His hand set down the alcohol bottle on the table... and stayed there. His other hand came up to rest on my other side, effectively caging me in. I said nothing, did nothing, just continued looking into those eyes until he lowered his head.

My eyes flickered shut of their own accord as I felt his lips press against my forehead. Warmth flooded my senses, drowning out everything else. Time slowed. My breathing slowed, and my heart picked up a gentle tempo as if beating too fast would spook him away.

A sigh escaped my lips, and I lifted my palm and placed it delicately against his chest. His heart hammered against my touch, making me even more disoriented.

We might've stood there for minutes or for years when he moved his face away from the spot he'd kissed and down to my ear. I licked my lips, imagining that I could taste the alcohol from his chest, his tongue.

"You're not my friend, Riley."

My eyes finally snapped open, but by then he was gone, leaving me reaching out into empty air with my heart finally beating fast, loud and insistent like it was whining for him to return.

JASPER

"You doing okay, Brandy?" I asked my blond friend. Between the lights and the loud music, parties really weren't his scene. I was ready to walk out with him if he decided to leave.

But he looked totally calm as he gave me a thumbs-up sign. "I'm good," he said, tapping his AirPods. The noise-cancelling earphones seemed to be doing their part to shield him from most of the sound, but Brandon wasn't the type to complain either.

I studied him, then decided that if he started looking worse for wear I was getting him out of there.

I pulled out my iPhone and opened the YouTube app. We were due for another video, and we were in the perfect environment to film it.

"We'll do about an hour of livestreaming, then we'll go see if we can find Rhys or Avalon," I told him in a slightly raised voice.

He nodded, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. One hand brought out a delicately folded sheet of paper.

"Lead the way," he told me. Before we'd picked up Avalon, we'd discussed going up to drunk people at the party and asking them weird questions. Brandon, ever the organized chum, meticulously wrote down all our ideas. And now we were ready.

I pressed the 'Go Live' button on the screen and immediately the numbers of viewers started increasing from zero.

I smiled widely into the camera. "Hey, you guys. Jasper from the Four Horsemen here. Brandon and I," I tilted the screen to show Brandon, who waved, "are here at Riley's party! It's been pretty sick so far, so we're gonna show you guys around."

Excited comments started taking up space on the screen, as well as some questions.

"Oh, Rhys is here too," I replied to one user. "He's probably gone to skulk in some corner, you know how he is. And Lilith's not here right now. We'll let you guys know when she's around."

I ignored further questions and turned to face Brandon. "Alright, here we go."

I switched to the back camera so it showcased the activity at the party. "And here we have this dude who's trying to shove an entire chess set up his nose. Man, those are some wide nostrils bro. Over there that girl is hula hooping. She's doing it really well, she's just gotta watch out for those flames..."

We went around the room, commenting on every bit of insanity we could find. And there was a lot. Brandon even threw in some one-liners here and there that had me and the fans cracking up.

"You're doing amazing, sweetie," I mouthed, causing him to roll his eyes. I'd been watching too much TV recently, but whatever. I didn't affect me one bit that Avalon didn't like the Kardashians. Between her and Rhys, I had not one, but two Kourtneys in my life, so I lived in a state of perpetual contentment.

We walked over to a girl who looked pretty tipsy, and I shielded her from the camera for a moment.

"Hey, can we interview you for our channel? We're just gonna ask one question and that's it."

The girl, who looked about five feet and was rocking a dozen piercings in her right ear alone, smiled at us like we had just promised her our weight in gold... hers, of course, would've been too small.

"Oh, wow, I'm gonna be famous?" She slurred, then hiccupped. "Okay, ask me anything."

When I uploaded the video, I was planning on blurring out her face just in case, but for now I figured it was okay. I looked over at the open sheet Brandon held out for me to read.

"If you could communicate only using colors, what would you call that language?" I asked her.

She pondered the question as if it meant life or death. She looked pretty serious, which was funny considering she was tilting side to side like a plant blowing in the wind.

"I would call it... Goak," she said deliberately. "It'll stand for something, but I just forgot what. I'll probably remember later." She hiccupped again.

I let loose a chuckle. "Good choice. Can you say a few words in, uh, Goak? You can make up whatever colors you want, too."

Another hiccup. "Blue...Edward-Cullen-in-the-sun mustard amethyst lime red. Amethyst is the swear word," she whispered conspiratorially.

"And what does all that mean?"

She giggled and winked. "I just said 'I think you look damn fine, Red'."

My eyebrows disappeared into my hairline. "O-kay. Thank you so much for your time."

I grabbed Brandon's arm and hightailed it out of there.

"I think she likes you," Brandon observed.

I pointed a finger at him. "Hush you." I looked down at my phone and saw our comments were blowing up.

"You too," I told them sternly.

We interviewed a few more people. "What's the worst diss you ever dished?" I asked another girl.

"I told a guy to kill himself by climbing his ego and then jump into a pool the size of his IQ," she told us.

"Harsh," I remarked with grudging respect.

"He was my ex," she confided. "I cheated on him, but he didn't have to call me a bitch. I also stole his signed baseball. Don't tell," she whispered, placing a finger to her lips.

The whole thing was on video- we didn't have to tell. But she seemed to have forgotten that.

"We'll keep your secret," Brandon promised with grave solemnity. My lip twitched as I led him away.

"If you were a ghost, who would you haunt and why?"

"You want to know who I'd haunt?" The next girl we interviewed got very worked up about the question.

"I'd haunt the guy at the hardware store, that's who," she replied hotly. "I gave him a simple task, to build me a *insert an apparatus that must not be named*. Easiest thing in the world, but he manages to screw it up and now my back hurts every time I'm *insert deed that must not be done till joined in holy matrimony before Jesus da Lord hallelujah*."

She continued grumbling while Brandon and I looked at each other in absolute shock.

"I think we've gotten enough stuff for the night," Brandon suggested quietly.

"I think so too." I pouted. Poor Brandon. I had this maternal urge to wash out his ears and hide him from all the evils of the world.

We talked to the fans for a few more minutes – the naughty lads were typing up the wildest comments – before we ended the livestream.

"Now do we find Avalon or Rhys?" Brandon asked, looking into the crowd like either one of them would suddenly appear. His fingers waggled in the air, but I didn't think it was from all the noise.

He'd gotten used to Avalon's presence, and now he worried that she'd been out of our sight for far too long.

It was an easy decision. "Avalon first. Rhys will find us on his own. Come on."

We found her by her laughter. Which was weird in an of itself, because I couldn't remember ever hearing her laugh like that. She only ever laughed at the expense of one of us, but now she was laughing like she found something truly hilarious.

Brandon and I exchanged concerned looks and hurried in the direction of the sound.

She was in a corner with what looked like frat boys, all of them hooting and hollering like someone had doused them with laughing gas. We paused, not sure whether or not to be worried.

"Uh, Avalon?" Brandon called, looking weirded out. Avalon looked up and beamed at us.

"Hey guys!" She looked genuinely delighted to see us, which was another thing that almost never happened. Brandon and I exchanged glances.

"Uh, hey. Whatcha up to?" I asked.

"We were playing charades! Hey Tim, show 'em what you just did."

Some guy with a huge purple Mohawk stood up, his body rigidly straight. As we watched, he flailed his arms in front of him like he was having a seizure and made neighing noises.

The group burst into laughter like it was the height of hilarity.

My lip twitched. She's clearly having fun, I thought as I watched her wipe away a tear.

"Say," one burly college boy squinted at us suspiciously, "they're not the guys who give you trouble at school, are they? 'Cuz if they are, then I just wanna talk."

He stood up and cracked his knuckles threateningly, belying his words. I gulped, but Brandon just raised an eyebrow. If this guy attacked Brandon, it would not go well at all.

Brandon's fists packed quite the punch, and when he started, I didn't always know how to make him stop.

"STOP!" Avalon thrust herself in front of us, her arms spread wide. We both stared in surprise.

"It's not them. I mean it kind of is, but they are the weirdos I told you about who keep trying to protect me."

I reared back in insult. "You called us weirdos?" I was deeply offended.

In front of us, the guy who was about to go hulk on our asses suddenly melted into a teddy bear.

"Oh, so you're her friends, eh?" He gave us a dopey smile. "You keep up the good work." He reached out his arms like he wanted to give us a hug.

What in the world had happened while she was gone?

"Hey!" Avalon didn't budge, and aimed her signature glare at the muscled man.

"Don't just assume that everyone's okay with you getting all up in their personal space!" She said hotly, then looked up at Brandon.

"Do you want this nice man to hug you?"

Brandon shook his head. "No, thank you," he said, quietly. He crossed his arms, further establishing his space bubble.

I shrugged. "I want a hug."

I stepped into the dude's arms and felt them wrap around me.

"Wow, you really do feel like a teddy bear," I remarked, clapping him on the back.

"You okay, Brandon?" Avalon was asking him. I pulled away to look at them.

"The sounds and stuff aren't bothering you, are they?"

Brandon shook his head at her, smiling slightly. "I'm fine."

"I'm glad." She grinned toothily with obvious relief.

Ha! I knew she cared.

Some blonde dude who looked like Superman watched us with amusement.

"Your friend here has been kicking our ass in all the games we've played," he told us. "She's won in both beer pong and drunken charades."

He was the only one who seemed lucid. I looked at Avalon with concern.

"Just how much did you drink?"

She waved a hand at the table, which was littered with empty plastic cups.

"Oh, just a few," she said unconcernedly. The blond guy mouthed "Everything" behind her back.

My eyes widened in alarm. "And you feel okay?"

"I'm fine. The only thing is, I was promised food at this party." Her eyes flashed as she scowled at me.

"I want food."

"There's a tray with chips and guac behind you," Superman pointed out.

Avalon skipped over happily and started munching on the snack.

One of the guys looked at her with concern. "That's not gonna look very pretty when it comes up," he muttered. "Maybe we shouldn't have let her drink so much. I mean what are we going to tell – oh, h-hey Archer!"

We all turned to face the newcomer. He'd slunk up to the table so quietly, none of us had noticed until he was standing right there. It was a little unnerving.

My neck prickled from the dangerous vibe I felt coming from him. He, however, paid no attention to me, focusing solely on Avalon.

"What'd I miss?" He asked her. She looked up from her chips and grinned once she saw him.

"Arch!" She hurried around the table as if to hug him, then stopped in her tracks and frowned.

"What happened to your shirt?"

The guy looked down at his uncovered torso, which, I must say, was seriously ripped. I self-consciously placed my hands on my own flat-as-a-pancake stomach like it was suddenly see-through.

I had like one ab; I really needed to start working out.

Archer's smirk spoke volumes. "Don't ask." He took Avalon's face in his hands and moved it from side to side, checking her eye movements.

"What's pi?" He asked her.

"3.141592..."

"Not drunk enough," he pronounced.

Some guys at the table let loose the breaths they'd been holding, like they'd been worried he was going to punish them and were now relieved. I peered at his back curiously. Just who was this guy?

Avalon remembered our existence. "Ooh, my friends are here! Hi, Jasper and Brandon!" She waved, like we were across the room and not just inches away.

Archer looked up from pouring the liquor he was holding into a cup and turned to us.

He looked like Avalon, I saw with a jolt. It wasn't in facial resemblance as they shared hardly any of the same features... except maybe the shape of their brows and general stunning attractiveness. But it was in the way his eyes took me in, like he was assessing my threat level.

Avalon did that sometimes, just watched people stepping in through a door like she was gauging who would be most likely to attack. But unlike Avalon, Archer looked like he wouldn't patiently wait for the threat to be in range – he'd take it out first.

His eyes narrowed at me. I wiped the shock from my face and plastered on an open expression.

"How do you do?" I asked, trying to appear calm. Inwardly an alarm was blaring DANGER! DANGER! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!

I had never encountered a predator like this, but I knew that it was important not to appear spooked.

Archer looked from me to Brandon, who refused to even look in the general direction of his face (he must've been spooked as well), then back to me.

"Hey," he greeted. My heart rate slowed.

"You know, you two look kinda similar," I noted. He studied me for a few seconds longer, then turned away.

"We're related. Here." He pushed the cup towards Avalon. She grabbed it and took a deep gulp.

"That's nasty, bro," she whined with a gag. I winced sympathetically. The drink seemed like strong stuff.

Archer shrugged and smirked. "I mean, if you think you can't handle it..." He started to take away the cup.

"No!" She took it back and downed the contents. The college guys whooped as she slammed the empty cup back onto the table.

"I've got it. Everything turned white for a second, but its gucci." She shook the bottle in front of him. "But you have to drink too."

He took the bottle from her and downed like a quarter. "Easy," he said with a smirk, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. The frat boys hollered for him too.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the jungle.

The blond dude shook his head in amusement as the two of them passed the bottle back and forth. "We sane people shall be drinking lemonade!" He held up a clear jug full of yellow liquid.

"Lemonade!" The same guys cheered.

"Come on, let's play some more games. You guys join too," he told us. "Maybe we can defeat her together."

Brandon and I looked at each other and shrugged. I guess it was about time we participated in the party.

We drained the cups handed to us and joined the group. We, however, fared no better than they had against Avalon.

"I won! Again!" She hooted. Archer gave her a high-five.

"The room is spinning," some guy beside us moaned.

Turns out, the lemonade was spiked, but neither I nor Brandon cared very much. We were all having a great time.

A familiar beat started playing from the speakers.

Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy (Ooh)
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh (Ooh)

"This is my song!" Avalon squealed as Swae Lee's crooning filled the room. She started jumping up and down, laughing.

Archer grinned and spun her around. She whooped, then bounced over to us.

"Let's dance!"

We did just that. Drinks flowed and laughter enveloped us as we all started moving to the groove of the song.

Dimly, I wondered what Rhys was up to. I hoped our pal was somewhere having as much fun as we were.

***********************************************************************************************

I wrote this chapter while waiting for the edit of the last one, which is why this update was so quick. Anyways, enjoy!

Lulu.

P.S- Don't you agree that Edward-Cullen-in-the-sun should be its own color?