Seth's uncle is doing questionable things in the corner of the room, his mom is standing on the coffee table thrusting her body to the music, smoke is practically our oxygen now and the smell of sweat is the new perfume. I frown at the scene in front of me. Puddles of beer paint the floor as I zigzag through the pulsing crowd. I need to find my family. Not a single familiar face registers in my vision as I scan the people around me.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I reach the landing and inhale a deep breath, absorbing the muffled sound of the downstairs bass. I can relax now that bodies aren't trying to fuse to mine. Shuddering, as if I can shake the filth off my body, I head toward the guest room and creep inside. I find my mom throwing clothes into a suitcase, my dad with glasses perched on his nose as he flicks through his computer, and Hope in the corner tapping away on her phone.

"What's going on?" I ask, confusion weaving into my forehead.

"Oh, Mercy!" My mom gasps as if she hasn't seen me in years. "I'm so glad you found us." She glances sideways at Hope, where she sits in a faded burnt orange recliner in the corner, and then steps closer, voice lowering. "We need to get your sister out of this madness. Your dad's trying to book us a hotel for the night."

"Oh."

"Yeah," she nods, glancing over her shoulder where my dad is sitting at the head of the bed, a pile of pillows behind his back as he checks something off a list in his hand. Then he dials another number, pressing his cellphone to his ear as the other hand continues scrolling through his computer. He looks up and gives my mom a subtle shake of his head. "We're not having a whole lot of luck with that. Everything's booked up, but we're gonna keep trying. Why don't you start packing up?"

I nod, ready to get away from all of the shady behavior going on downstairs. "Let me find Seth. He might want to come too."

"Of course." My mom nods, shooing me away as she continues packing.

I return to the chaos downstairs, but I remain on the third step from the bottom of the stairs, eyes scanning for Seth's brown hair. It feels like this home reached its maximum capacity an hour ago, but somehow, people keep streaming in. My eyes snag on a huddle of people around the coffee table and I squint to get a better view.

No, my eyes are not deceiving me. I watch as a woman uses the back of a spoon to literally crush mine and Seth's Christmas cookies into tiny crumbs, and then they each take turns snorting them up their noses. I gape at them, forgetting why I came down here for a whole minute as I watch them laugh like lunatics. One woman flops back onto the couch, missing the cushions and dropping to the floor. She curls up into herself, body convulsing as she laughs, stoned out of her mind.

Several people are sucking on their pot sticks, smoke bursting from gaping lips as they sway to the music. A risqué couple straddles each other on a recliner, oblivious to the world around them. It's not until she pulls away so she can flip her hair to her other shoulder that I catch a glimpse of the man's face. It's Hank, Seth's uncle, and when his eyes meet mine and he juts his chin in my direction—daring me to judge him—I decide it's time to move along.

I descend the last three steps and begin pushing my way through the buzzed, delirious, shameless crowd. I check the kitchen, but quickly retreat when I find another huddle involving one woman and several men. I shake away the images bombarding my thoughts as I try to dislodge the visual of their hands trailing across her body. Not a single person here has any decency. How horrifying to imagine Seth seeing all these things as a kid. I can barely handle seeing it as an adult.

Bounding up the stairs, I return to the guest room. Shaking my head, I tell my mom that I wasn't able to find Seth.

"Why don't you guys go on ahead," I tell her, glancing at Hope where she sits pretending not to be listening to us, "I'll stay here and look for Seth. I'll give you a call when I find him."

"I don't think that's a good idea," my mom argues, turning to seek my dad's opinion. He just shrugs, taking his glasses off and stretching his arms above his head.

"Believe me," I mutter, "I don't plan on hanging out downstairs. I'll just stay behind and try to get ahold of Seth on his phone until he tells me where he is. I mean, maybe he went on a walk, or maybe he's out on the porch. I didn't check there."

"Yeah." My mom scratches the side of her head. "Fuzz? What do you think?"

My dad glances up at the sound of his horrific nickname. "Hun, I think we need to get going. If Mercy wants to stay here and keep an eye out for her man, then that's up to her. She's a grown woman."

My insides ache at my dad's words. Her man. Yeah, right. I might as well get myself prepared for Seth to become Cassandra's man. The thought clenches itself around my stomach and I lick my lips, anxious for my family to leave so I can have a moment to myself. This entire day has been one overwhelming circumstance after another. Finding Seth, telling him the plan, getting to the hotel, and then going to bed are the only things on my mind now.

"You keep your phone on you at all times," my mom instructs. "Anything fishy or dangerous happens and I want you to call the police."

"It's all fishy, hun," my dad throws in, sliding his computer into the case and getting up from the bed.

"Yes, mom." I smile at her concern.

"And please, avoid downstairs as much as possible." Worry swims in her blue eyes.

"Of course." I wrinkle my nose in disgust, thoughts fluttering back to the grotesque images from earlier.

"Sorry tonight didn't go as planned," my dad whispers against my ear as he leans in for a hug. "Love you, Sweetheart."

I find my throat going thick, wondering if my dad understands just how deeply his words hit. Is he aware of just how big of a disaster it was? Can he sense the ache in my chest? Or the tremble in my nerves, knowing that I have to face Seth again?

"Yeah," my mom agrees, "we'll plan on having our own Christmas when we get home. This isn't completely ruined."

Or maybe, like my mom, he's simply disappointed that Christmas didn't go as planned.

After goodbyes, my family sneaks down the stairs, through the crowd, and out to my mom's vehicle. I watch from my temporary bedroom window as they pile inside and then take off down the street. I don't let my eyes detach from them until they're out of sight and a white SUV pulls into their vacated parking spot. Seems Seth's mom invited the entire town to this shindig. I lean against the window, curious as to what category the newest arrival will fall into. Drug user, or drug dealer. But, no one ever gets out of the vehicle and I eventually give up trying to see who the next party arrival is.

Sighing, I drop into the seat beside me and pull out my phone, punching the call button for Seth. My phone hums in my ear as I wait for him to answer, but after the fifth attempt, I give up. Either he's not near his phone, or he's too preoccupied to answer it.

After pulling together as much courage as I can muster, I try heading downstairs one last time. I assume Seth isn't on the porch since my parents never called to tell me, but I peer out the front door to check just in case. I even wrap my arms around my coatless torso and step further out so I can glance down the street. Nothing.

Closing the door, I take a lap around the room, pushing and shoving and denying people's generous offers of drinks and cigarettes. It's not until I feel a hand slide over my rear end and give it a firm squeeze, that I decide I've had enough. Slapping the hand away, I turn to find a bleary-eyed, greasy-haired, slime ball giving me a rotten-toothed smile. His stale breath hovers around my face as he leans in, a mix of sour and smoky fumes hitting my senses.

"Back off," I warn, arms out in front of me.

The man just leans in closer, hands reaching for my waist just as someone smacks his arms away.

"Listen to the lady, Earl," Seth's uncle growls, his eyes pinning me in place even as he speaks to his friend.

Then Hank grabs my elbow and leads me toward the stairs, seemingly aware that that's exactly where I'd been headed.

"Thank you," I mutter to him, but he simply sneers at me before turning back toward the party.

I spot Sam huddled with the snorting crowd around the coffee table, but decide not to waste any more time watching the insanity. Hurrying up the stairs, I barrel toward the bathroom, slip inside and drop my head against the door as I let out a shaky breath.

"A little intense, huh?"

Startled, I whip around to find Seth sitting against the shower door, legs bent and forearms resting on his knees. He's watching me, a hint of amusement in his eyes even though he's not smiling.

"Your mom's snorting something, your uncle's doing someone, and some weirdo named Earl just groped my butt." I let out a nervous laugh. "So, yeah, kind of intense."

We drop our gazes from each other, Seth suddenly intent on staring at the floor between his legs. I watch as he inhales, stretching his back as he reaches to scratch his shoulder. I shouldn't be watching him. After our earlier conversation, the less obsessed I appear, the better. I have to get over this phase of life and move on from him.

"You hiding?" Seth suddenly asks, and I tilt my head up to find his eyes on me.

"Are you?" I tease, diverting the attention from myself.

"Yes. Absolutely, yes." He chuckles at his own response, and I feel myself itching to do something wild. That same intensity that seems to claw its way into my gut the moment things become uncomfortable or boring or overwhelming starts worming its way into my system. This room is too small and my clothes are too tight.

I pull at the collar of my sweater, considering moving to the sink and splashing some cold water across my head. Or maybe just sticking my entire head under the faucet. But then Seth breaks the silence with a single, "Sorry."

The word itself sounds empty, but when I glance at Seth, he can't meet my eyes. He rubs his temple, dropping his head into his hands, still using his knees to prop up his elbows.

"This is so stupid," he mutters, frustration making the words sound tight in his throat.

A wave of sympathy descends across my shoulders and sends warmth into my belly. His life is one stressful situation after another. His only freedom is when he's away at school. That's where he can release the worry and live his dream. For some reason, I thought that intermingling my life with his would somehow make everything better. I thought I'd somehow manage to weave some good into his dark past, but somehow I think I just made it all worse.

"It's my fault," I mutter, pressing my back against the door as I slip carefully to the floor and pull my knees to my chest. "I wanted to show your family what a real family should look like." I bite my bottom lip, closing my eyes as I absorb what a complete bust this has been. "I guess they didn't take too kindly to my silent challenge."

"They're just too proud to admit that they're miserable," he tells me. "They enjoy all this crap for a moment and then they wake up and they're empty. All of it is so empty. I see it in their faces. They know it, but they keep doing it. It's like they're hoping that this will be the time when they somehow manage to get a glimpse of something bigger. A brighter life." He groans, dropping his head against the shower door. "They're living in a black and white world and they think they'll find color by adding more shades of gray. It's so messed up."

I smile at him, linking my fingers together around my legs. "That was very poetic."

"Yeah," he chuckles, trying to smile. "Guess all the hash fumes went to my head. I'm getting all inspirational and profound."

I point my smile at my knees, nervous about letting his eyes linger on my face. Lately, it seems like people have been able to read me too well. I can't have him seeing the longing eating away my composure. Especially when he practically flat out told me that I'm a creep who's obsessed with him. Appearing indifferent toward him is now my ultimate goal. My new mission: not to be enchanted by Seth's cryptic, mysterious smile; athletic arms; intuitive green eyes; model-worthy stomach; and perfectly fitted jeans. No way, I'm so over all of that. Yuck!

Yuck... yuck...

Seth bends his arm, gripping his shoulder and making his bicep bulge.

And that's a yes. A big yes. Dang it!

He's too beautiful. And the fact that the majority of the time he seems completely oblivious to all my staring and ogling just makes him that much more appealing.

"I'm gonna go," I suddenly say, starting to push myself upward.

"What? Why?" There's near panic in his question as he drops his hands to the floor, preparing to stand with me.

"Because..." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, settling back into my seat against the door as I search for an appropriate explanation. Then I sigh. "I don't know."

"Trying to get away from me?"

His question doesn't surprise me. I know he somehow reads me better than any human ever has, but it still leaves me speechless. Rather than croak out a lame excuse, I just nod.

"Don't go."

"Why not?" I question, trying not to sound snappy. "I don't want you to feel manipulated or uncomfortable with me here. Actually, based on my past behavior, you might be safest if I leave."

"Mercy," he sighs, leaning backward in frustrated resignation. "You never gave me a chance to tell you what I thought about all this."

"Are you sure?" I challenge. "I think I remember the words psycho and nuts in there somewhere. Very flattering, by the way. I mean—" I fling a hand out in exasperation. "Seth, is that really how you view me?"

"I never once called you psycho or nuts," he denies. "I just wanted you to understand how your accusations toward Cassandra could be thrown right back at you. The kiss, prying information from my friends, tracking me down at my uncle's house... it all points right back at you. But—" He quickly lifts a finger in my direction, silencing me when I start to defend myself, "but, I never called you any of those things. I just wanted you to hear yourself."

"Okay," I nod, still irritated. "Maybe you're right. I'm a hypocrite, and maybe I misjudged Cassandra, but there is just something about her that gets under my—"

"This is not about Cassandra anymore," Seth cuts in. "It's about you and it's about me." He pauses, flicking his attention to me. "It's about us."

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I'm posting the next chapter right now... because I love you guys and I love your commitment to this story and I love all the helpful/wonderful feedback. You're just the best!