I want you. All to myself. I want you. All to myself.

The words haunt me, consuming my every thought and working their way into every action.

"I know you don't really like the parties, but... there's nowhere else to really go tonight, and as much fun as I've had sitting here and making out with you... I wanna show you off."

None of Jay's words click in my mind, to me everything in this world has sounded like white noise since Wednesday. I expect Michael to be around every corner waiting, looking at me, watching. He's skipped Surgery class for the past two days. I'm both grateful and sad for that, I don't really know how to feel about his confession. I wanted to hear those words come out of his mouth so many times in the past. I guess timing really is everything.

"Skipper? Did you hear me?" Thrown out of my distracting and shameful thoughts, my head snaps up to meet Jay's eyes.

"Um... repeat that?" He chuckles, brushing my cheek with his thumb. At least he didn't notice that during our "make out" session I wasn't really thinking about him. Or kissing back with much effort.

"Just come with me to the party tonight. Michael won't be there, I promise." "The party's at his house." I mutter, picking at the bedspread. His dorm is identical to my own, only the walls are painted blue, and everything is a bit more boyish. The bed smells like him in the best way, and our legs are comfortably tangled, our bodies close together. I should be completely content, but I'm not. No matter how mad I am, I can't get my mind off of the lanky boy with the angry brown eyes. Angry and damaged.

"I know, but he won't be there tonight. Nobody's seen him in days." I swallow hard, looking away, and knowing it's my fault he's missing. "I really don't wanna go without you," Jay trails off, staring at me longingly.

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine, I'll go for a little while. But then you have to take me home." He grins, planting one last kiss on my forehead. "Good. Let's go."

****

The anxiety hits me like a sac of potatoes as Jay leads me through the party by the hand, our fingers interlaced. I don't understand why people continually come back here, everything's the same. The same girls giving strip tease dances on the tables, the same people dry-humping on the dance floor, the same group of people sitting in a circle around their bonfire.

Jay looks back at me and chuckles, smiling. "Your eyes are so big. Are you alright?" I shake my head quickly, I'd probably rather be anywhere but here. I had my internship at the hospital this morning, and Will asked me if I wanted to stay a double shift. I did (especially since Michael was nowhere to be found) but I declined the offer, I had a date with Jay. I didn't tell him that of course, for some reason I thought he wouldn't like it.

Jay's firm grip on my hand calms me just a little as we approach the bonfire, the smell of vodka and cigarette haze almost choking me. Nat turns, her now honey-blonde hair blowing in the wind. I don't mean to be rude, but the color clashes with her skin, which is a few shades darker.

Nobody says anything, they only hold their breath staring at me with wide eyes. The conversation has stopped. I look behind me, then up at Jay, whose eyes are wider than my own now. "I'm.. I'm so sorry, I swore he wasn't gonna be here." Michael sits at the head of the group, a crooked scowl on his face as he stares at me. There's something off about him, I can't put it.

"Why did you bring the pretentious bitch?" He half-slurs, and I finally get it. The fire dances on the haze of intoxication in his eyes, jumping and spitting. The bottle of clear liquid is very near full, telling me he's already had a few drinks today. I wonder... has he been binge drinking to get over me?

The insult bounces off of me, but that doesn't mean I want to be anywhere near him. Seeing him hurts, seeing the look of intense hatred on his face, directed towards me, hurts so much.

Nat laughs, and Carleigh, the ebony girl, joins in. Tania and Angel, the Mexican couple, are too busy sucking face to pay any attention. Jay sighs, turning to me. I almost feel Michael's eyes narrow as Jay brushes my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. "We can go... if you want to." I look over at Michael, kicking back huge gulps of vodka.

"No. Let's stay." I won't let Michael win. I won't let him know he's got so much control over my emotions. "A-are you sure?" He stammers, nodding towards Michael. I nod, shrugging. "It's not that big of a deal."

Jay and I curl up at the other end of Angel and Tania's couch, across the circle from Michael. Jay smiles, wrapping his arm around my waist, and I lean into him. Michael takes another mind-numbing drink, and suddenly that sounds appealing. No more feeling, no more thinking. No more wondering what would've happened if I'd just given in before Will intervened in the locker room.

Jay buries his nose in my hair, breathing in. His fingers caress the skin on my arm, but I feel nothing. Whenever I was lucky enough to have Michael's skin touch mine, it sent chills dancing over me. Jay's touch is sweet and genuine, but it's just not the same. Michael was right. Jay is not Michael.

"Pass the vodka." I mutter to Carleigh, who is holding a bottle. She raises her jet black eyebrows, holding up the bottle slightly. "This, prissy girl?" I roll my eyes. "I did say the vodka, did I not? Do you speak English?" I clamp my mouth shut, kicking myself on the inside. She'll probably destroy me for such a smart comment.

Instead she laughs, passing it to me. "Girl knows what she wants." I take it, and Jay puts his hand over the bottle. "Hey. Are you sure?" I gently remove his hand, and give him a nod. Since I've laid eyes on Michael again, my mood has done nothing but plummet drastically.

"Don't drink to much," He gently advises, letting me tip back the bottle. I almost sigh in relief at the refreshing burn that travels from the tip of my tongue to my stomach. I take a few more sips, and with each one I care a little bit less about Michael's fury.

"Woah, slow down girl," Jay laughs, touching the bottle. I shrug. "You're driving aren't you?" I can already feel the effects of the alcohol. Nat laughs. "Wow, little-miss-priss isn't so prudish anymore, is she? Good going Michael, you ruined her." He laughs bitterly, also putting down more vodka. "She was ruined before I even met her."

"You'll ruin her more with what you're doing to her." Carleigh laughs. Michael's head snaps up. "Shut the fuck up. What I'm doing isn't your damn business." She jumps, obviously afraid, and obliges quickly.

I ignore what just happened, and drink some more.

Michael's eyes glue to me now, as he drinks, plays with his collar, taps his fingers one by one against the glass bottle. Both of our glasses drain not so slowly, until I'm sucking the dregs out of the bottle.

"Such a little girl shouldn't drink so much. Your blood alcohol content is gonna be through the roof." Michael sneers, reaching for another bottle. "I don't care." I slur, also reaching for another bottle. Jay went off somewhere, and I can't feel my fingers anymore.

"Why are you here? I don't want you here." He spits drunkenly.

"I don't care."

"You're stupid for coming here."

"I don't care."

"You and Jay are disgusting."

"I. Don't. Care."

Michael stares intensely at me, lowering the bottle. It seems like we're frozen, and everyone around us isn't. We're stuck, they're zooming , buzzing around us. He cocks his head slightly, his fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle clenched in his fist. Time slows, and nothing else matters but him staring at me. The vodka's cooled my confusion, taken away any sort of doubt I had before.

"We're going upstairs. I need to talk to you." He states, standing. I'm almost envious of his composure, he doesn't sway or tilt in the least. I shrug. The alcohol gave me an air of invincibility, and there's no way he's gonna drag me down.

He begins his trek through the moving and packed together bodies as I follow behind. We slip into the house, which is the same, pristine and clean. People seem to like to be in here now, and it's a bit full inside.

We climb the stairs, and he shuts the door to his bedroom behind us. I open my mouth to say something, but he spins on his heel faster than lightning, shooting me with words. "What the hell did you think you're doing? You've got some damn nerve bringing that bastard with you into my house! Flaunting him in front of me! Doing all that mushy shit! You're so god damn infuriating! I should hate you! I should want your head on a spike, but... instead I just want you.... why would you do that to me, Skip? Why would you bring him?"

Eventually, his sadness overtakes the anger, and that's enough to penetrate the outer shell of vodka. My head is spinning, I can barely feel my feet under me. But I feel for him right now.

"Skip, please... leave him. Just forget Jay." He takes a step towards me. "Here you go again," I hiccup, laughing and stumbling towards the bed. "Hot, cold. Black, White. What do you want, Michael? Decide already." I giggle, biting my cheek.

"I want you!" He blurts again, and I sigh in pleasure. "How many times to I have to say it? Damn, you're so fucking needy!" He storms towards me, locking his arms around my waist. "You." Surprising myself, I let him, leaning against the bed. His body is suddenly close to mine, inches within. For some reason, this amuses me, his cinnamon-cologne scent mixed with vodka.

"You're one cute drunk," He says, bringing his face close to mine again. "I'm not drunk," I laugh in response. I don't know what I'm doing, my morals and values, my anger seem to be gone. I don't think of Jay, I don't think of anyone but us right now. Every other thought in my mind has dissolved like sugar in water.

"I need you," He whispers into me, leaning even closer. "God, I... can't even sleep at night without you," He breathes, staring dead at me. I almost feel guilty, because I know how bad his nightmares are, but laugh instead.

"Ok." "Ok?" "Ok."

I squeal loudly as he swoops me up in his arms, and we fall back on the bed, him landing right on top of me. I giggle, my hair falling around my head like a halo. The sheets are crisp and smell like laundry detergent. His body slides between my legs, and I'm wearing a skirt, but I wrap them around him anyways. He smiles, suddenly moving rapidly as his hands slide up my legs, his mouth latching to my neck. It all unfolds quickly, his hands running up and down my body and his mouth sucking and kissing my skin. I let him have free reign, but even with the alcohol in my system the newness of it all scares me.

He pushes up my skirt some, and I feel his fingers playing with the lace trim of that underwear I got with Ana at Bergdorf's a while back. I guess I'm grateful for that now.

I can tell what he wants. I can see it in his eyes, the fiery lust behind them, the urgency and almost pain of his teeth nipping my skin. And I'll let him. A deep and warm feeling has awakened inside of me, and I'm happy he'd ever want me this way. "Michael?" "Yeah baby?" He slurs, kissing quickly along my jawline and then my collarbone.

"Can we go a little slower, please?"

My heart sinks as his face morphs and conforms completely to anger. "And here you go again!" He yells, and I jump from the force of his voice. What? I just asked a simple question.

"You're such a god damned prude, ruining the fucking moment! I'm so tired of that! No, I don't wanna go any fucking slower! If you wanna fuck, let's fuck, but I'm not gonna hold your little virgin hand!" I want to yell in his face that he needs some Lithium to combat his bipolar disorder, but instead I begin to feel my eyes water with hurt.

I don't say a word, my mouth hanging open with surprise. He jumps off of the bed. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking. Get out! Just get the hell out!" His moods are like the ocean waves, forever turning and changing. They can be beautiful, gentle, and pleasant but then whenever a storm comes... his moods send you crashing to the cold, hard and rocky shore.

I jump up quickly, willing myself not to cry as I fix my clothes. I was an idiot. I let myself do it again. I let myself believe that when he said he wanted me, he wanted the real me. Really, he wanted my body, which shouldn't be such a brutal slap in the face. But it is.

I let out a sob as I throw open the door, facing the window with his arms crossed, he doesn't look back once.

Right now, I'm just hoping nobody else wants to try to take advantage of the drunk girl at a party. I don't think anyone's got my back now.

OMG I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE... Vacation is so busy, and I've been working on this one for a while :) Don't forget to Vote and Comment and Follow ;) I might just double update depending on how this night goes...