Izzy

I pull Mason with me into the kitchen to grab a drink, weaving us in and out of the crowds of people. I don't recognize most of the faces here, but I'm assuming kids from other schools were invited as well. There are almost ten coolers sprawled out on the tiled floor, so I flip one open and glance up at him. "What do you want?"

He eyes all of the cans with different logos on ice with skepticism. Oh my god. He's never gotten drunk before. "Here," I say and push a Bud Light lime into his chest. "Just start with this."

I crack open my white claw and take a long sip, peering outside the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the pool in the hopes of spotting Zane. Girls in bikinis are splashing each other in the heated pool, a DJ playing music directly in front of it with drunk people already nodding to the beat as they recline in lounge chairs.

"Mason West?" Abigail Kenny, a girl on the volleyball team fakes a drunk gasp as she stumbles over to him. "What the hell are you doing here?" She places a hand on his arm, my eyes narrowing at the gesture.

I'm trying to tell myself this isn't jealousy that I'm feeling, but I know myself better than that. I don't understand why I'm jealous, though. We just started talking today. I find Mason attractive, yes, and it perplexes me. He's the complete opposite of the types of guys I normally hook up with, so why do I want to tackle Abby to the ground? Am I seriously considering making a move on Mason tonight?

God, I hate that I'm such a flirt sometimes. I don't ever feel fully satisfied. Zane has that bad-boy aspect I crave, and yet Mason... Mason is like a golden retriever. He's friendly and energetic and just all-around good inside and out. He's a good boy I want to turn bad.

Get a grip, Izzy!

"Hey, nice to see you, Abby." He smiles and takes a sip of beer. "I decided to try something new tonight."

She giggles, and the sound makes my lips curl. "Well, I'm glad you came! Ugh, let your hair free, Mace. You can't hide all of that gorgeous hair with a hat." She rips the hat off for him and runs her fingers through it to mess it up. "Much better," she tells him.

He clears his throat awkwardly as he takes his hat from her. "Er... Thanks."

My blood is boiling. I'm so possessive over boys who aren't even mine. It's the most toxic trait I have. I'm a flirt, and I don't consider that a skill or a positive trait. It bites me in the ass nine times out of ten. Thus the reason I've never had a boyfriend and never will. It's hard to stay committed to one person.

And that's why when Zane comes up to wrap his arms around my waist, I still feel like I want to rip Abby's hair out.

"I thought I told you to wear the skirt?" He teases, raking his hands up my sides.

I spin around to face him and hook my arms around his neck. "You don't like what I'm wearing?"

He eyes my tits heavily, a smirk growing on his face. "Oh, I love what you're wearing, babe. Easier access."

Mason clears his throat, interrupting our moment, and Zane gives him an annoyed glare. When he realizes it's him though, his mouth drops open in shock. "Mason West?" He asks. "What the hell are you doing here, man?"

"Well, your...Er...Izzy convinced me to come, actually."

Zane beams at me. "Your persuasion always impresses me," he says, turning his attention back on Mason. "Well, we need to celebrate this!" He grabs a bottle of vodka off the counter and three plastic shot glasses. Someone calls him from outside though, his head whipping to the sliding glass doors.

A random guy is dripping wet in his swimsuit, thumbing at the pool where the girls in bikinis wait. "Hurry up, man! We're about to play chicken!"

"Oh, shit. I forgot I told them I'd play. Take a shot for me?" He kisses my lips and squeezes my ass, leaning down to my ear to whisper, "My bedroom. Thirty minutes. I'm going to fuck you senseless."

My cheeks grow hot when he disappears outside, the liquor and shot glasses sitting in front of Mason and me on the counter. "You don't have to take it if you don't want to," I say.

Mason inches closer to stare at the liquor, his body right next to mine. "Don't tell me you're already going soft on me."

"What are you talking about?"

He shrugs. "I suspect you're the type to peer-pressure people. I mean, come on, you're the life of the party. Unless that's another rumor I've heard that isn't true."

A few guys from the football team come in and give Mason the same reaction that Abigail and Zane did. They ask me to pour them some shots too, so I grab more plastic cups from the bag and line them up. "Izzy, let me do a titty shot off you," Ryder says, gripping the edge of the island. He's always been a sleazeball, but he's certainly showing his true colors right now.

I give him a devilish grin. "And why would I let you do that?"

"Well, you let me do one off you at my birthday party last summer," he says.

"That was a dare. You know I never pass up on a dare."

He chuckles and cocks his head to the side. "Okay then, I dare you."

Mason steps a fraction of an inch closer to me. The side of his arm brushes against mine, goosebumps rising on my skin.

"Nah, let the newbie get a turn," Ryan interjects, staring directly at me. "I dare you to give Mason a titty shot."

I scoff at the absurdity of it. This is childish. Mason hasn't taken a single girl up on their offers to go out on a date, so what makes them think he'd take a titty shot off of me? And why do I wish that he would?

"You guys know Mason," I say, attempting to get him out of it. "That's not his thing."

Ryan scoffs. "Oh, right. Sorry. We forgot he's gay."

My eyes pop up to Mason, and his posture has grown rigid, his knuckles gripping the edges of the island so tightly that they're turning white. I didn't understand at first why he doesn't come to parties, but now that the football players have opened their mouths, I'm beginning to. If you aren't popular, it's not fun.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm not gay," he tells them through gritted teeth. "And even if I were, why is that a joke?"

They blink a few times as the tension rises in the room, unable to find an answer. Eventually, when the silence gets awkward enough, they meander back into the living room, leaving the both of us alone again.

"Well, that was shitty," I say. "I'm so sorry they said that. They're normally not like that."

"To you," he clarifies. "You don't experience that side of them because you're hot."

My cheeks burn at the admission, but now isn't the right time to focus on the compliment. Not when he looks as pissed off as he does.

"Who cares what they think? Just forget about it. You don't need to take a titty shot to prove yourself to anyone."

He straightens his posture and lets out a sigh, grabbing the bottle of vodka to pour himself a shot. I'm waiting for him to take it, but he suddenly hands it to me. "I'm doing this to prove to myself that I'm not as lame as everyone thinks I am. You know, to say I've done it. That is...if you're okay with it."

I'm still blinking like an idiot before he shoves the shot glass in my hand.

"Is Zane going to kill me?" He asks. "Warn me now and I'll stop while I'm ahead."

I snort and glance behind us at the pool where a skinny brunette's thighs are wrapped around his head as they play chicken. We're both major flirts with no commitments. "He's not going to care, but you don't have to do anything, Mason. Those guys are idiots."

"I already told you it's not for them," he says. "It's for me."

For his...pleasure? Oh god. My thighs press together just at the thought. Turning a good boy bad is more attractive than I thought. But the more I think about it, this goes beyond the act of pleasure. For whatever reason, I think our conversation earlier in history got to him, and he's seeking the side of high school he never got to experience.

I can give him that.

Slipping the shot in between my breasts, I glance up at him and get a satisfied smile on my face when he's finally looking at my chest. He can't tear his eyes away from the sight.

"You kind of have to take the shot," I say, interrupting his stare.

He clears his throat. "Right. Sorry."

Because he's so tall, he bends down until he's at eye level with my chest, gazing tentatively up at me. Holy fuck. He looks so curious...so innocent... It makes me want to show him everything.

"Just wrap your lips... Uh...around the cup and then tilt your head back."

He smirks and moves his eyes to my throat, eyeing my rapid pulse. "It's pretty self-explanatory, Izzy."

I gulp when his lips wrap around the edges, partly grazing the patch of skin between my breasts. I'm so tempted to reach up and run my hands through his hair and pull him closer, but he steps back and lets the liquor travel down his throat, his lips still around the cup as he eyes me over the rim.

Sweet Jesus.

The look in his eye is absolutely feral. The studious debate team captain has vanished, and the boy standing in front of me has a hard time hiding what exactly is on his mind right now.

The liquor is making me sweat. At least that's what I'm trying to tell myself. I wipe the perspiration off my forehead with the back of my hand and grip the edge of the countertop behind me.

Where is Willow?

Did Christy wind up coming?

I need someone, anyone to distract me from this feeling. Then again, why am I holding myself back? It's not like I'm committed to Zane who has another girl's thighs wrapped around his head right now. I can do what I want, and what I want is to turn this good boy bad. Immediately.

And I know that's dangerous. I will never be interested in anything more with him than just fucking, and Mason is a boy who falls fast and hard. It's obvious. We are total opposites that could never work, and the last thing I want to do is make him fall for me, but I can't help it. I'm a flirt, and I get what I want. Fuck the consequences.

"Have you ever danced at a party?" I ask breathlessly.

He shakes his head. "I've never been to a party, remember?"

No. I don't remember anything right now. My brain is too foggy. My thoughts are jumbled as I reach out and grip his sweatshirt. His hat that Abby took off earlier is sitting on the island, so with one hand, I pick it up and place it back on his head once more, my fingers brushing through his hair as I do. A move that rarely fails.

"Izzy, I don't dance," he says, seeming completely unaffected by the contact. "I hate it."

Rolling my eyes, I bring him into the living room where a random rap song is playing, much different from the music that the DJ is playing out by the pool. "You need to live a little," I tell him, standing on my tip-toes to wrap my arms around his neck. "Just move to the beat! It's not hard."

"Izzy, this isn't a good idea," he says, cursing under his breath when I press myself against him. He just has to move his hips a little and relax, but he's as stiff as a board. It's like he can't ever just have some fun.

The version of him just seconds ago taking the shot has vanished, and when I try to wrap my fingers in his hair to bring him closer, he takes a giant step away from me and lets out a frustrated breath. He stepped away from me.

Never, in my entire seventeen years of living have I ever been rejected like this. Especially in front of half our class. And I wish I could say no one noticed, but me dancing with Mason, to begin with, caused heads to turn, and now that he rejected me? It'll be circulating the party within minutes.

"I have to go," he tells me, leaving me completely speechless as he brushes past me and walks out the door without another word.

Great. Now we don't have a ride home.

What the hell just happened?

"A guy who isn't brain-washed by you," Everett says from a couch he's sitting on behind me, and it's not until now that I realize he just got a front-row seat to witness my first-ever rejection. "How refreshing."