Later that evening, I took Tyler's advice to heart. Vodka was well on the way to being my best friend. My parents had dressed to the nines, the three of us piling into my father's Bentley. As we whizzed through town, I wondered bitterly whether the dollar amount of clothes, jewellery and shoes in the car would equal the GDP of an entire small country. My attempts at faking sick had only earned more threats from my mother, who was still under the impression that Will and I were practically married.

     "A real woman will suck it up for her man, no matter how terrible she's feeling!" my mother had ranted, only for me to burst into giggles at the double entendre and cause her to throw her hands into the air in frustration.

     As we pulled in to the Dawson residence, I reminded myself that it wasn't my job to gawk tonight. The curved driveway was filled with expensive cars, men in tuxedos and women in floor-length gowns floating up the stairs and through the massive house. I realized in dismay that valets were parking the cars, ruining the plan I'd hatched back at home when I'd snuck my father's spare car key into my clutch. When they were well-ensconced enough not to notice, I'd planned to sneak away, drive myself home and leave them to fend for themselves as punishment for dragging me to the party.

     Dad helped mom and I out of the car, their mega-watt smiles turned up as we ascended the stairs towards the door. Our names were checked against a list as I tapped my heeled foot impatiently. Even though the party beyond seemed promising, what with all the laughter, tinkling glasses and jazz band music, I wanted to get in, be seen, and get out.

     "Yes, Mr. Carlisle, welcome!" purred the woman with the tablet and headset by the door, "The bar is straight through the back, if you please,"

     Mom took dad's arm as we crossed through the Dawson's foyer back towards a gorgeous stone patio in their backyard. This time I really had to fight to keep my jaw from dropping as I took in the sprawling landscaped lawn and gardens stretching all the way down to the dunes, the crashing waves of the beach just beyond. The sun had just set, sending a magnificent pinkish purple light over everything. A jazz quartet was playing in a corner, the lead singer crooning some old Frank Sinatra in the cool late-summer air. People in tuxedoes and dresses mingled on the patio, drinks in hand. I realized miserably that my mother had been right, my barely there dress was hardly scandalous when compared with some of the other dresses girls my age were wearing.

     "Well look who's beautiful enough to rival that sunset,"

     I had to swallow the bile that rose in my throat as Will broke through the crowd, a pair of champagne flutes in hand. He ran his eyes appreciatively over my dress and I crossed my arms over my chest, drawing his attention back to my face. The twilight made his skin look especially tanned, his white teeth standing out in contrast as he greeted my parents with a smile.

     "I'm hoping you don't mind, but we won the match today," he said, gesturing to the champagne before he handed it to me, "Just a little celebration,"

     "Oh of course!" my mother gushed, staring me down as I hesitated in taking the flute from Will. I fought my sneer as I took it from him.

     "To a wonderful night," Will said, clinking his glass with mine. That same sickening grin was on his face as he tipped back his glass. I didn't touch mine, instead choosing to survey my nemesis. His hair was swept back away form his face, not slicked but not fluffy, just tumbling in the right way. His suit was sharply tailored to fit him and probably one of the more expensive ones at the party. It really was a shame he was such an asshole because if I could forget that for one nanosecond he might've been fun to look at.

     Until he turned that grinning face back towards me and I fought the instinct to cringe.

     "Come, let me introduce you to my parents," he said, gesturing for my parents to follow as he offered me his arm. I groaned inwardly. If I was going to survive tonight, I would have to anticipate moves like this and pre-empt them. The last thing I wanted was for anyone else to think I was Will's girlfriend, and being presented to his parents at such a public event just screamed "they're officially gf/bf!"

     But that plan backfired as I was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Dawson. He was a silver fox with keen blue eyes that raked over me as if evaluating my suitability for his son, while she was an overly-surgerized blonde goddess of a woman with a look as calculating as her husband's behind a fake veneer of kindness.

     "It is so lovely to finally meet you, Madison!" Mrs. Dawson gushed, her smile lighting up her relatively immobile face as she appraised me, "I've heard so much about you that it's wonderful to put a face to the name,"

     "Excuse me, would you mind if we took a photo? It's for the society pages?" a man cut in from next to Will, a camera slung around his neck. Will ditched his champagne glass.

     "Down it," Will hissed, a smile on for the photographer as his father and mother posed. With an eye-roll, I threw back the champagne and he pried the flute from my fingers, disposing of it on a passing waiter's tray.

     "And one more with the entire family?" the photographer continued, after snapping a few pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Dawson. The three of them fell into formation, Will dragging me along next to him as the photographer snapped even more photos. My mother looked on with naked pride on her face. I'd hoped I hadn't been scowling too hard in any of the pictures, but feeling Will's hand against my bare back gave me the heebie-jeebies. And not the good ones.

     "Come, let's go see where the other guys have gotten to," Will said, tucking my hand into his elbow as he led me away from my parents. They didn't even spare me a glance as they swooped into conversation with the Dawsons.

     Will led me back inside the house, through the foyer and down another hallway that seemed to lead towards the kitchen. Waiters bustled by while white-aproned men and women flew to and fro in the room at the end of the hall. Will took another turn, leading us into a less populated part of the house and again I kicked myself for not seeing it coming when he turned back to face me, his hands sliding down to my nearly bare waist.

     "Thank you for coming tonight," he said softly, pushing a strand of my curled hair from my face. I stared up at him like a deer in headlights, seriously regretting shooting back the champagne as the bubbles shot straight to my brain.

     "Not like I had any choice," I snapped, deliberately ducking out from under where his hand had come to cradle my cheek.

     "Oh Madison, always such a tease," Will smiled, watching as I turned to face him from a much more respectable few feet away, "I'll kiss you yet,"

     "Like hell you will," I retorted. He smiled in earnest.

     "I like a challenge," he continued, reaching behind me to push open a doorway. Louder music and a smell distinctly reminiscent of Dakota Schneider wafted up a set of stairs, the noise of lots of people down below.

     "After you," he said, gesturing for me to precede him down the stairs. I steeled myself, taking the stairs one slow step at a time to get a good grip on what I'd be facing in the basement.

     Downstairs, a group of teens I didn't recognize were lounging on a set of cushy leather sofas, an assortment of alcohol open on a huge wood bar set against the wall. There were a good number of well-dressed guys and several of them had skimpily dressed girls draped across their knees. Each one of those girls hit me with a once-over as I descended the stairs in front of Will, before exchanging glances amongst themselves.

    I forced my best A-Lister face into place as Will rested a hand on my lower back, guiding me towards the bar where he poured me a drink. Deciding moderation was not the way to survive this night, I tossed it back and held it out for more. With a smile, Will poured me another.

   Hello, vodka my friend.

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

     "And then omigod I was getting a drink at the match and this girl was like totally carrying a fake Louis and I was like, 'Wow, that is so 2nd-grader-dressup!' and she was all, 'What are you talking about, this is real!' I was like, 'Sure it is. As real as your boobs, whore!' And she all like ran away angry!"

     My eyes were glazed over. My feet were killing me. My boobs had been ogled more than Kim Kardashian at a nudist camp. And, worst of all, my brain felt like a big gooey marshmallow. Will had immersed me into the crowd of chattering girls that I'd been told were the other polo players' girlfriends. I'm sure by girlfriends he must have meant air-brained dumbasses. That purse story was one of the shorter ones and actually one of the more intelligent ones. Every single conversation seemed to be getting more and more vapid, but every time I tried to pull my phone out as a distraction, Will would pounce and I'd have to fend him off again.

     "Ohmigod that is so funny Angela!" another Barbie doll clone said. They were all gorgeous and were all obviously destined to be trophy wives, but I was totally unintimidated. For one, they'd probably have to work as a group to figure out what 2x2 is. Beyond the drunken stupor they all seemed to be descending into, I was fairly sure that there weren't many lights on behind their blank, beautiful eyes.

    "I'm gonna go get..." I began, backing away. I didn't finish because nobody cared and frankly I didn't care if they did. I was well on my way to being roaring drunk, my goal of hugging the line of tipsy long since abandoned thanks to the mind-numbing company.

    "Maddie! There you are," Will said, appearing out of nowhere once again and grabbing my hand, "We're all going to upstairs to chill for a bit,"

     "Okay," I shrugged. Whether I got drunk upstairs, downstairs, or outside really didn't matter to me.

     My opinion was soon changed when I followed the troop of teens back to the main floor, up a set of sweeping stairs in the foyer and across the house to what must have been Will's wing. The others took up positions in the living room area as if they did this every weekend while Will crossed to a dresser and pulled out a baggie loaded with something white and powdery. The rest of the group let out a collective mini-cheer when Will produced the bag. One of them whipped out a platinum Visa and a hundred dollar bill and I immediately realized what was going on.

     Scanning the room, I spotted a chair that was far enough away from the action that I wouldn't be dragged in to participate. If there's one line I draw, it's drugs - as in there is no way in effing hell I'd touch them. I know I can handle my alcohol because I know when I'm getting close to my limit, but when it comes to the harder stuff, I pass. Especially in Will's house, in his room, when he's already declared that his goal was to kiss me.

     Will emptied a bit of the white powder onto the coffee table and the guy with the credit card immediately began to cut and shape it into lines. The skanky girl Angela gave a little squeal of delight and hopped onto his lap, eyeing the lines greedily.

     "Oh Will, I love your parties," a girl named Clarissa said, running her finger down Will's chest as she leaned forward onto him. She was fully drunk, but her date didn't seem to care that she was blatantly flirting with someone else. Will just gave a little chuckle and moved away from her as if gorgeous girls like Clarissa fawned over him all the time. One of the first things I'd learned about this crowd was that they all went to Kingsley Prep, the elite private school that even my parents probably couldn't afford, so the fact that these girls were all over Will was yet another testament to his wealth and status. These kids were the big leagues when it came to money, so turning their heads was much more of an accomplishment than turning the heads of sophomores at Clairview High.

    "C'mon man, you're first," said the guy with the credit card as he backed away from the table, holding out the rolled bill. Without a second's hesitation, Will took it and sat down next to him.

     "What are you doing?!" I demanded. In a split second I was beside Will, my hand on his arm. He looked up at me with a frown.

     "Having fun," he said, then handed me the rolled bill, "Here, you're the guest of honour so you go first."

     I looked at the bill in disgust.

     "Aw, what? Little prude doesn't know how?" Angela taunted, swaying drunkenly in her boyfriend's lap. My eyes flicked to her and I suddenly realized how utterly stupid this whole thing was. Why the hell was I sitting in some expensively furnished bedroom with a bunch of rich snobs who were about to snort cocaine? Why the hell had I let most revolting guy on the planet trick me into accepting an invitation? And better yet, why the hell was I still hanging around?!

     "You know what?" I said, turning hate-filled eyes on Will. Then I slapped him. Clear across the cheek. It rang out in the sudden utter silence of the room. Will looked more than surprised and I'm sure that if I'd stuck around for two more seconds he'd have hit me back. But I took the opportunity to say, "You can go screw yourself, you arrogant bastard. And take your skanky-ass bimbos with you." I whirled around and dashed out of the room as fast as my five inch heels could carry me. Nobody had said anything, either from the shock of my words or because they were too intoxicated to understand. I didn't care.

     I plowed through the adults that had now migrated inside, ducking behind a waiter when I spotted my parents still clinging to the Dawsons.  Following the waiter back to the foyer, I stormed through the open doors, heels clicking dangerously on the marble. I took the stairs at a gallop, shocking the dozing valet guys.

    "Miss can we call you a cab?" they called after me. I paused, turning back around, only to see my parents breeze past the open door. The longer I stayed, the higher the chance I got dragged back inside. Frankly, I really didn't like my odds if they threw me back at Will, because by now he'd probably be amped up on coke and alcohol and I knew he'd make me pay for slapping him.

   I'll kiss you yet my ass. 

   Without a word, I leaned down and pulled off my heels, taking off down the winding driveway.  As I jogged, the barely-there dress staying on through some miracle of double-sided tape, I fished my phone out of my clutch.  With a moan I realized the battery was at 5%, probably thanks to all the calls and texts I'd been sending at the salon. When I reached the end of the driveway and I realized just how far out in the middle of nowhere this mansion was, I paused and considered walking back and asking the valet guys to call me a cab. But as I turned back towards the Dawsons' mansion, my stomach gave a sickening lurch.

    As I looked up at the opulent house, I couldn't help but resent all the well-dressed people in there. I'd been miserable the whole time, the only bright spot in the evening very literally being the scenery. My parents had dragged me here very obviously against my will, Will had forced the invitation upon me again, very much against my will. 

   With an angry growl, I set off down the road towards home. Using what little battery I had left, I dialed my brother, but it went straight to voicemail. I growled again, trying Tyler only for my phone to blip, unable to connect the call. With a flurry of curses, I shoved my phone back into my purse and started walking in earnest. I didn't care that the walk would probably take most of the night, nor that I was wearing next to nothing and walking all alone with a dead cell phone. Just when I thought the tears would start to take over, the anger set in.

     Was this how my life was supposed to be? A big game of "do as you're told" and "let's pretend I'm happy when I'm not"? I felt used, betrayed, and totally disgusted with myself. And what better ambient music than a cellphone ring.

   I looked down at my clutch in in shock, wondering how my phone had mustered the power. I frantically dug it back out of the purse, answering it without even looking to see who was calling. Whoever it was, I was going to beg them for a ride.

     "Hello?" I asked a little frantically, only then realizing it was probably Will calling to tell me off.

     "Hello buttercup."

     If I hadn't been all alone on some godforsaken country road I might've fainted with relief.