Reaching the bonfire, the night sky stretches for miles in every direction, with millions of stars twinkling like diamonds above us. I'm reminded of my childhood, back when my summers were spent at Nana's house—miles from the city and its distractions.

Most nights consisted of sitting by the fire, telling ghost stories, and eating s'mores. Afterwards, all of us kids would grab our blankets and make our way to the hills—always to the same spot, the highest point.

There, we'd spread out, scanning the sky for hours—finding the brightest stars, making wishes we never really believed in.

"We're going to have so much fun," Sky squeals, bringing me back to Earth. The loud noise of the party erupts as she pulls me along. Trailing behind, my heart aches, eyes fixed on the sand. Last time I climbed those mounds, it was a different world.

It was right after my father's funeral. My entire family gathered around the fire, just like we had for years. But it wasn't the same.

Instead of ghost stories, it was memories; instead of s'mores, we had tears.

I had to escape, grabbing my blanket and slipping away—grateful no one tried to stop me.

Even the hill seemed to be mourning—steeper and harder to climb, but I finally made it and found my star. Closing my eyes, I wished—prayed—for him to come back.

Of course, nothing happened. I was a kid, clinging to magic. Even now, the memory feels embarrassing—how badly I wanted an impossible miracle.

A loud, shrill scream pierces the air, abruptly snapping me out of my thoughts.

Stepping back, a group of girls—laughing and chasing each other—runs past, their flashlights dancing across the sand.

Smoke curls through the salty air, tinged with burnt wood. I pause when I spot the guys tossing a football—April's latest obsession, right here at the party.

"What are the chances?" I think to myself, as the taller one snags the ball and breaks into a little victory dance. A group of girls in tiny shorts and tank tops cheer him on—whooping and hollering.

"You ready?" Sky asks, grabbing my arm and attention. "Let's go find my friends," she suggests, linking hers through mine.

Weaving through the chaos, we dodge groups of partygoers, while leaping over coolers—half buried in the sand.

Country music blares from a silver truck parked on the grass, right where the beach begins. People are dancing on the tailgate, beers held high as they belt out the lyrics. Others are passing around a bottle of liquor, taking shots to toast to their youth.

The aroma of grilling burgers and hot dogs wafts through the air as we walk past several guys—wearing aprons—tending to an enormous grill. Flames lick at the sides as the meat sizzles and crackles.

Lines of people wait, some holding plates, others snacking on chips and dip from a nearby table. Lawn chairs and blankets are scattered all around, with people laughing, chatting, and swaying to the music—some even crying.

Sky steers us away from the madness, passing by games of cornhole, horseshoes, and volleyball that are in full swing.

As she pulls me along, something pink catches my eye—a petite blonde girl in a hot pink tracksuit, seated on a giant log. Clearly drunk, her body leans against her friend—a girl with golden blond hair and a sequined purple top—for support.

She raises her shoes in the air, dumping out piles of sand that fall to the ground, making tiny mounds. I wiggle my toes inside my trusty, worn-out boots—the ones I've had for years and refuse to give up.

The first time I saw them—ignoring their hefty price tag—I knew they'd be mine. And once they were, I wore them everywhere, proudly showing them off—it didn't matter that I'd stolen them.

"Damn, looking sexy," a drunk guy slurs, waving a beer bottle in our direction.

"Ugh, sorry," Sky mutters, sidestepping him, her pace quickening. "No thanks... not interested." Ignoring her raised hand, he continues to catcall until we disappear over the hill.

Looking around for the first time, I notice how many people are staring at us—guys and girls alike. I haven't had this much attention since right after the shooting, when everyone was whispering and pointing behind my back. But this is different.

And honestly, it's almost comical, as a group of hammered guys—slouching in fold-up chairs—whistle and yell as we pass them. Whoever said that guys mature as they get older must've forgotten about college guys.

Lost in my thoughts and stifling a giggle, I nearly collide with Sky as she abruptly halts, exclaiming, "Jake!" She dashes across the sand, arms waving excitedly, "Where have you been?" her voice high-pitched as she throws her arms around the guy's waist.

"I've missed you so much!" she exclaims, planting a quick kiss on his cheek—leaving a bright red smudge behind.

Frozen, my feet sink into the sand as I watch them embrace. Maybe this was a bad idea. I should've stayed at the dorms. My chest tightens as my eyes dart around, looking for a way out. But before I can take a step, Sky calls out, "Bex, come here," her hand waving me over.

I hang back for a moment—weighing my options—before sighing, and hanging my head. Taking a reluctant step forward, each one heavier than the last, I close the distance between us.

"Bex, this is my best friend since the womb, Jake," Sky says, introducing me to an attractive guy with blond hair and golden eyes, who, like Hayden, has an enormous amount of ink covering his body in different colors.

A glint of silver shines from his eyebrow and lip as he flashes a breathtaking smile.

"Don't let his looks fool you," she grins, "he's a total nerd," teasing as her hand reaches for his cup. Tilting it back, she takes a long drink before handing it back.

"Right, Jake?" she asks, nudging him with her shoulder.

"Yeah," he mutters, his grin growing wider as she ruffles his hair. "I can recite every Harry Potter book," he jokes, his golden eyes meeting mine.

"Feel free to quiz me." His eyes sparkle as my cheeks redden, and my stomach flips. Quickly looking away, my pulse rises.

Sky, oblivious to the charged air, keeps talking. "And this is my roommate, Bex," she says, gesturing to me. "She's shy, so be nice," she warns, giggling as she snatches his cup again.

"Nice to meet you," Jake says, his voice low and smooth. He almost pulls me in, but I resist, keeping my eyes locked on the grainy sand.

The second I lift my head, his lips part slightly—a silver ball slides back and forth behind his teeth. "Don't worry, I don't bite," he whispers—though his smirk says otherwise. "Unless you want me to."

"Boy, stop playing." Sky shoves him and grins. "Anyway, tonight's his last night with us—he's going to Spain for art and won't be back until after the holidays."

Before I can respond, she leans over, dropping her head onto my shoulder. "And that girl over there," she says, nodding toward a thin girl with greasy blond hair, "that's Sam—a total bitch."

Following her gaze, a girl with a sour look on her face sits on the ground. Her fingers scroll through her phone with one hand, while the other plays with her nose ring, sliding it in and out of the little hole.

"I'm pretty sure she's in love with Hayden," Sky whispers.

Jake snorts. "Obsessed is putting it mildly. She's basically got a shrine to the guy. It's... kinda tragic, honestly."

Her eyes shoot up, fixing on mine. Two cold, black holes that feel like they're literally sucking the life out of me, leaving me drained. My skin crawls, and I involuntarily shiver—there's something off about her.

Nodding in my direction, her smug look transforms into an icy glare. "Who's this?" she asks, her voice cold and unfriendly. "New girl?" she guesses, her gaze raking over me from my scuffed boots to the tight braids against my scalp.

"This is Bex," Sky responds, her arm wrapping over my shoulders. "My new roommate and friend." She beams, smiling warmly.

"I guess," Sam sneers, eyes narrowing. "Don't get too comfortable, sweetie," she says with a snarl, "you won't last."

"Sam, stop being a bitch," Jake interjects. "And I'm sure she'll be just fine," he says, his eyes meeting hers. "In fact, she'll be better than fine." He winks at me, the metal ball dancing in his mouth.

"Ignore her," Sky says, laughing, yanking me away to where a girl is sitting nearby, head down, reading something on her phone.

"Bex, this is my girlfriend Hope, and babe, this is Bex," she introduces us, glowing.

My breath catches. She's gorgeous, with fiery red hair cut in a pixie style. Her bangs partially obscure her almond-shaped hazel eyes, framing her narrow, bare face, completely free of tattoos or piercings.

The words "The Sky is the limit" are written across the top of her left breast in beautiful, swirly script—matching Sky's back tattoo.

"Hey, babe, hi Bex," she greets us, tucking her phone under her leg as Sky drops into the space beside her.

"Hi," I reply, awkwardly standing there as Sky leans in, giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

"You look amazing," Sky gushes, as Hope whispers something in her ear, making Sky's face light up. Both of them burst out laughing.

With no one to talk to, I look around, trying to decide whether I should sit down or slip away. "Hey, I'm, uh, going to get something to drink. Does anyone want anything?" I ask over my shoulder as I turn to leave.

No one responds. Unsure if they heard me, I hesitate. But after several seconds, I walk off, just as Hope climbs into Sky's lap, kissing her. Hope's phone lies forgotten beside them as they embrace, completely lost in one another.

The temperature has dropped as I make my way toward the fire pit for warmth, which, luckily, I do—since some idiot thought it'd be a good idea to set the kegs right next to it.

"Warm beer. Great," I mumble to myself, glancing around. Not finding anything else, it'll have to do—I'm more of a liquor girl.

The second his hand grazes mine, and I see the rose tattoo, I know who it is.

"Sorry, my bad," I mumble, keeping my eyes on the keg, my face burning. "I didn't see you," I mutter, my voice barely audible.

"No worries, it's cool," he says, grabbing another cup—distracting him— I muster the courage to look. But I'm too slow, his eyes catch mine, and my breathing ceases.

"Hey, you're my sister's roommate, right?" he asks, taking a step forward, standing in front, and towering over me.

"Um, yeah, that's me. And again, my bad. This isn't really my scene," I lie, motioning with my hand to the surrounding chaos. "Well, at least not anymore," I mumble, more to myself.

Stepping forward, I select the closest keg since none of them are labeled. My eyes focus on the liquid as it runs into my cup, creating a swooshing sound as the pale amber beer hits the sides. I let the white foam rise to the top and settle before topping it off.

"Yeah, me neither, but it beats sitting alone in an empty room," he smirks, a hint of sarcasm drawing me in. There's something about him that's addictive. I find myself intrigued by him, watching as he takes a drink.

The smooth liquid glides easily down his throat before he pulls the cup away. His tongue swipes across his lower lip, removing the excess drops.

A sudden jolt fires through me, imagining what that mouth can do.

I know it's reckless and where this road goes. Still, my heart's hammering, and even my better judgment is drowned out by the rush.

"Perhaps we could find something to get into," I whisper, hardly recognizing my voice—it sounds foreign and strange. But I know what I want—forgetting all the progress I've made.

I'm transported back to my old self, my younger days, when there was only one thing on my mind. Only now, it's him.

And he looks good standing there. His body casually leaned against a tree, with his drink in hand. The moonlight shines across his face, and his eyes twinkle. But behind their shiny exterior lies a mystery, one that needs to be solved.

I have to get to know and understand him. I need this—and him—right now.

"Oh, really? And what did you have in mind?" he asks, raising an eyebrow as he takes another drink, once again licking the rest of it—this time in a slow, sexy motion.

A familiar burn creeps up my cheeks as I take a giant gulp of the cool, crisp beer. Its stale taste brings back memories of my past adventures—drunk and dancing wildly on a random table.

All my problems were gone, at least for the night. But then, when the high wore off, it was right back to the same old thing. So why am I doing this to myself?

He's a stranger, yet here I am, practically undressing him with my eyes. I'm seriously screwed up. There's something wrong with me—a broken piece that only he can fix. It's sick, maybe, but it's who I am.

No one's ever confronted me, but the whispers and glances said it all.

I thought I'd buried the bones of my sins and secrets, but it was never enough; I couldn't ever hide the whole skeleton. There was always something left to haunt me.

I was in denial. But they knew, and it destroyed everything, including my family.

Jason and I were inseparable as kids. He was my hero. Then a new kid moved to town—a boy named Johnny. It was cool at first; we went from the dynamic duo to the three musketeers. Or the two of them, plus one pesky little sister, always tagging along.

Over the years, they became brothers until I came along and shattered their bond.

It was the summer between 7th and 8th grade. Our parents worked constantly, my sister April was at camp, and Jason was stuck in summer school trying to pass math, leaving Johnny and me on our own most afternoons.

At first, it was innocent—going for bike rides with Zane and swimming at the lake—but then it wasn't.

I choke, the memories still bitter after all these years. I finish my beer and pour another, even though I know it won't help. Drinking never fixes anything. But maybe Hayden will—for a while. Watching him—silently sipping his beer—my mind goes back to that summer.

Once things became physical between us, it was too late. I fell for Johnny hard. We were young and dumb, but it didn't matter—we were in love. But like everything in my life, I ruined him.

A tear rolls down my cheek as I stare at Hayden—Johnny's bloody face burned into my memory.

"Do you want to take a walk?" I suggest, not wanting to sound desperate, but I have to make the ache in my chest go away. And there's only one thing that can help.

"Alright, but is that all you want to do?" he asks, his voice low, almost seductive. A familiar moisture pools between my legs as his gaze meets mine, and I squeeze my thighs together.

"Yeah, I'm not a whore," I lie, lifting my cup to my lips again. "I don't just sleep around with anyone," I snap, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Fine with me," he says, smirking as I drain my cup again. "I don't have sex outside anyway," he whispers, close enough that his warm breath grazes the skin on my neck as he purrs in my ear, "and I never said you were a whore."

"We can have fun without having sex," he teases, his eyes toying with mine.

Giving me one last look, he drops his cup into the trash before turning and walking off towards the woods.

Pulse pounding, mind racing, I glance around—making sure no one is watching—and drop my cup into the overflowing bin. Taking a deep breath and ignoring my doubts, I follow him.

Reaching the dark treeline, I pause, my breathing slows.

"Just for tonight," I whisper to the wind.

The ground changes beneath my feet from the soft, warm sand to the rough, hard dirt. Time stands still as the beat of music and chatter grow fainter, replaced by crickets' chirping and the sound of branches snapping up ahead.

All those nights wishing on stars, I never guessed this is where I'd end up—half running from my shadows, half chasing them. But perhaps it's the truth: you never really outrun the past, you just learn to carry it with you into the darkness.

Each step forward feels like crossing a line I promised I'd never touch again—despite knowing that, I don't stop. Losing sight of the path in front of me, maybe being lost is exactly what I need.