I know you all had your theories on who slapped Madison's butt... (all Bryce, except for that ONE person who willed it to be Carter. You know who you are, Caddison shipper) so I'll let you find out ;)

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Chapter 13

I stand there for a moment, unable to react.

                Then, when it registers that yes, someone did actually smack my butt, my mouth falls open and I whirl around. I don’t know what I’m going to say, but I’m sure as heck going to say something to them, and it’s not going to be anything nice.

                But whatever sharp retort I was about to blurt dies on my tongue before I say it, and I freeze.

                Tiffany cracks up, giggling hysterically and something that feels a lot like relief floods over me, deflating my chest and making me laugh too.

                “You should’ve seen your face!” she giggles. She dabs a finger at the corner of her eye, wiping away any smudges of mascara or eyeliner that she’s got from laughing at me. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry, but that was funny.”

                I don’t say anything at first, because we both just laugh a little more.

                Then she jumps in before I can say anything, asking, “Where’ve you been all night? I haven’t seen you yet! Don’t you know you’re meant to greet the host?”

                I laugh. “I tried to find you, I swear.”

                “Not very hard.”

                “You’re right, I have been completely ignoring you all night, actually. Totally avoiding you.”

                She laughs again, and then puts a hand on her hip. “Nice dress. And you didn’t want to wear it why?”

                I shrug, smiling. “Thanks.”

                “Seen Bryce yet?” She waggles her perfectly sculpted eyebrows at me teasingly, and I shake my head, feeling a little embarrassed. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it all planned. Did you bring a bathing suit?”

                “A what?”

                “I swear I told you. I told Melissa.”

                I shake my head again. “No, you didn’t tell me to bring a – wait, why do I need a bathing suit?”

                “All part of the plan. Don’t worry, you can borrow one of mine if we need to implement stage three.”

                “What’s stage three? And for that matter, stages two and one?”

                Tiffany just laughs and taps her nose. Then she notices my soda can. “Not drinking?”

                “Nope.”

                She shrugs. “One less person who’s likely to throw up, I’m not complaining. Come on, let’s go meet some people.”

                And with that, she drags me off, linking her arm tightly through mine. I twist my head to call over my shoulder, “Nice meeting you guys! Bye!” then I trail after Tiffany, doing my best not to fall over.

                “Hey! How are you? Madison, you remember…”

                I lost track of all the people Tiffany introduced me to. I did my best to remember names, but I reckoned that most of them were tipsy enough they’d barely remember me anyway.

                It’s coming up close to ten o’clock before anything big happens. Up until then, I’d been chatting with people Tiffany introduced me to, drifting around with whichever one of the girls I could find. Everyone seemed pretty nice, actually, aside from the occasional girl who’d shoot a snooty glare my way, or the odd leering guy. But then, I suppose that could’ve just been the alcohol – making people nice as well as not very nice.

                I’m having a pretty good time though. Even if most of the people I’m talking to are drunk, or at the very least, tipsy, I’m having a good time.

                But it’s around ten o’clock, and all of a sudden there’s a clattering noise and shouting loud enough to distract everyone even with the pounding music blasting from speakers in the lounge and conservatory, and all the general party noise.

                Just like everyone else, I tried pushing my way through to the hallway, where there was the sound on someone shouting and what must’ve been someone falling.

                I see there’s some guy I met earlier – Neil, I’m sure his name is – shoving a guy whose face I can’t quite see into the wall by the front door, cursing loudly at him. I hear them shouting back and forth, but they’re both slurring, and with all the commotion, I can’t hear them clearly enough to make out what it is exactly they’re shouting.

                With all the jostling throngs of people, I somehow ended up being pushed near the front of the crowds without even trying. I saw Adam near me though, and grabbed his arm. He swayed, unsteady on his feet, and stumbled back. He only stayed upright because of all the people around.

                “What’s going on?” I yell in Adam’s ear.

                “Craig hooked up with Neil’s girlfriend,” he shouts back. “Or ex-girlfriend? I think? I don’t know.” He lifts his beer bottle above his face, tipping it to his mouth – about three droplets fall around his mouth. Adam shakes the empty bottle upside down, like that’s going to make more alcohol magically appear and pour out.

                “Aw, damn it,” he mutters. “I’m all out of drink.”

                “I think you’ve had enough anyway,” I tell him as he stumbles against me, throwing an arm onto my shoulders for support. He’s not drunk enough to pass out, but he’s drunk enough that he can’t stand properly. And he’s heavy.

                I put an arm around Adam’s waist to try and hold him up. Turning my attention back to the fight by the door, I see a couple of guys pushing Neil away from the other guy, Craig, as he flails punches at him.

                Now the drama’s over, everyone around me begins to disperse, and it’s really hard to hold Adam up, so I stumble, too.

                “Outside,” Adam says, pulling at the collar of his blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt. “It’s way too hot.”

                “I think it’s cold out–”

                “Baby, it’s cold, outside!” he starts to sing, and laughs. I have to laugh too, because he sounds so sober and serious, singing, it’s pretty darn hilarious – plus, he’s got a terrible voice.

                But we both stagger away, Adam leaning on me, his feet moving erratically and wildly, and me trying to support him and hoping I don’t fall flat on my face. Somehow, we make it outside.

                The night air is cool on my skin, and I don’t realize until I step outside just how hot and sticky inside is. There aren’t many people out here, maybe about a dozen or so. Adam lurches forward, pulling his arm away from my shoulders but tugging me along by the hand instead. He gets to the edge of the decking and then throws himself down, hunched forwards.

                “Are you gonna be sick?” I ask warily.

                He shakes his head. “I can hold my drink, Masdisdons.”

                I frown in confusion for a minute, but then I understand that ‘Madsisdons’ is Adam’s drunken version of ‘Madison’, and I laugh. Then I sit down beside him. Neither of us does or says anything for a moment, but then Adam moves and lays awkwardly across the decking, half sat down, but leant over so his head is resting in my lap.

                “Please don’t upchuck on me,” I tell him.

                “’S’okay,” he mumbles, slurring. “I’m not gonna.”

                “Good.”

                A few moments pass – or maybe it’s more like half an hour, I don’t know. You don’t really have much concept of time when you’re happy enough to just sit there and look at the stars and watch people. It’s a nice break from being in the midst of the party, though, and out here the music isn’t as harsh and loud.

                Adam being asleep with his head in my lap isn’t even putting a downer on it. I’m used to my own company, and I’m perfectly okay to stay out here like this a little while longer.

                That’s when someone drops down next to me.

                “Aw, shit, I’m meant to be taking him home,” says a guy’s voice that’s already very, very familiar.

                I turn to look at Bryce, and give him a small smile. “He hasn’t thrown up yet, at least.”

                “He can hold his drink,” Bryce tells me with a respectable kind of nod in Adam’s direction. “But he can be such a lightweight.”

                I laugh, and then I see that the can in Bryce’s hand isn’t beer or cider or anything else with alcohol. It is actually a Diet Coke.

                “You’re not drinking?” I ask.

                “Nah. Designated driver,” he tells me.

                “Oh…” I nod slowly.

                “Aren’t you? Drinking, I mean.”

                “No.”

                “Driving?”

                “I don’t have my license,” I tell him. “I’m staying here anyway. But no, I just don’t want to.”

                He raises his eyebrows slightly, and even though I’m not looking at him now, I know he’s looking at me. I can feel his eyes on me, taking me in. Maybe trying to figure me out. I hope he doesn’t think I’m just weird.

                “That’s refreshing,” he said. Then he lowers his voice confidentially and tells me, “You know, it really bugs me when some of these girls get drunk. Like they think they look hot when they’re puking their guts up, or passing out? Pfft.”

                I laugh quietly. “Really.”

                “Really,” he tells me. “How’d you get lumped with this idiot then?” He prods Adam’s head.

                Shrugging, I say, “Honestly? I don’t even know. But it’s nice out here.”

                “Yeah.”

                There’s silence for a few minutes. Adam grumbles incoherently in his sleep then rolls over. I throw my arms out to catch him, but I only catch hold of the back of his shirt, and he’s too heavy; he falls off my lap and hits the grass with a thud.

                Bryce laughs, then he gets to his feet. “He’s fine out here. Besides, he’ll wake up soon. If he doesn’t I’ll just come find him. Come on.”

                He holds a hand out to me, smiling, with his dimples showing.

                I take the hand, and let him pull me to my feet. His hand is warm, and strong around mine.

                “Where’re we going?”

                Bryce shrugs one shoulder then the other, like he’s doing his own Mexican wave. “I –”

                “There you guys are! I’ve been looking for you!” Tiffany trips a little as she runs over to us, giggling. She grabs my hand and starts pulling me away, into the house. Bryce is still holding onto my hand from where he pulled me up, and he doesn’t let go now, following us both inside. Tiffany leads us upstairs, where she spots Summer and Marcus making out. She drops my hand to mess up Marcus’ hair.

                “Dudes! Come on!”

                “Tiff,” I call to her, “what’s going on?”

                “Just go with it,” Summer sighs to me, but then she gives me a sidelong glance and winks, which only adds to my confusion.

                So we all follow tipsy Tiffany up the rest of the stairs. Bryce is still holding onto my hand.

                I pause and turn to him, since he’s half a step behind me. “You can let go of my hand now, you know.”

                He just gives my hand a squeeze and chuckles, smiling at me – but he doesn’t let go. I blink at him a couple of times before carrying on up after the others. My heart flip-flops, and my stomach is replaced by butterflies.

                Maybe Tiffany was right after all. Maybe he is a little interested in me...

                I bite back a smile, and try to tell myself not to get my hopes up.

                We go into Tiffany’s room, where a few people are sat around. There’s Ricky and Kyle, and Owen from my Algebra II class. Melissa’s there too, and a couple of girls I remember are Nicole and Ann, Tiffany introduced me to them earlier. There’s another guy slumped next to the bed. I think his name’s Jay, but it could be John.

                “Awesome, this’ll do!” Tiffany exclaims excitedly. “Great!” She takes a swig from her bottle – it’s only now that I notice it’s a bottle of wine. I don’t know if she’ drunk the whole bottle or what, but either way, I’m shocked.

                She drains the last of the wine and then puts the bottle on the floor.

                “Truth. Or. Dare.”

                Enunciating every word like it deserves its own sentence, Tiffany’s voice takes on a challenging, ominous tone, and we’re all silent for a few moments, no sound except for the hubbub of the party and the dulled thump of the music.

                “Cool, I’m in!” says Nicole, and drops gracefully down to a spot on the floor near the empty wine bottle.

                There’re a few more mumbles of “Sure, cool, okay, I’m in” and then we’re all sat down in the circle. I’m hesitant, not sure whether I really like the idea of truth or dare. I don’t know what kind of dares these people will come up with, but I think I’m more scared of having a truth.

                “No, Madison, you’re sitting by me and Summer!” Tiffany instructs me. That’s when Bryce finally drops my hand, sitting down in a spot between Kyle and John/Jay. I walk around the circle to a spot that’s almost exactly opposite Bryce, and take my place next to Summer and Tiffany.

                “I’ll spin first,” Ann announces, and leans to the middle, spinning the bottle.

                It lands on Marcus.

                “Truth or dare?”

                “Truth,” he says.

                “If you had to kiss one guy here, who’d it be?”

                He sighs slightly, and looks around at the guys for a few moments. Raising a finger he points at Jay/John. “Let’s go with Jay.”

                I make a mental note that John/Jay is actually called Jay.

                Marcus reaches forward to spin the bottle. This time, it lands on Kyle.

                “Truth or dare.”

                “Dare.”

                “Hmm,” Marcus says thoughtfully, thinking up a good dare for Kyle, and we all wait patiently. “Hey, Tiffany, mind if Kyle tries on some clothes?”

                “Not at all.” A sly smile slips over Tiffany’s face; then she hiccups.

                “Wait, what?” Kyle’s eyes bulge.

                “I dare you,” Marcus says slowly, as though he’s savoring the words, “to wear some of Tiffany’s clothes. There will be photographic evidence taken.”

                We all start to laugh, either at the horrified look on Kyle’s face or the image of Kyle dressed up in girl clothes.

                But he doesn’t back down, in all fairness to him. He goes into Tiffany’s walk-in closet with the old miniskirt and the woolen sweater she finds him, and dresses up. Ann leaps up then, crying, “Wait! You need lipstick!”

                My side aches from laughing so hard at Kyle, who has an arrogant kind of face whatever expression he wears. Tall, lean, his short spiky hair and soccer player’s build – and he’s in a denim miniskirt.

                When Summer gets her phone to take a photo of it, Kyle pulls a pose, cocking one hip to the side with his hand on his hip, and he pouts at the camera, an exaggeration of a stereotypical model. It’s hilarious.

                “Now get out of my clothes,” Tiffany demands, once Summer’s taken the photos.

                The game carries on. A couple of people pick truths, which surprises me – I’d have thought all the guys would go for dares. There’s nothing too bad though. Owen is dared to kiss Ann; I find out that Summer’s celebrity girl-crush is Megan Fox, and that of all the girls at the party, Ricky would make out with Tiffany.

                I’ve been lucky so far; the bottle hasn’t landed on me.

                “My turn to spin,” Tiffany announces loudly, and leans forward to spin the bottle. Just as she sits back up, she elbows my side a little. But it’s such a small gesture, I’m not sure if it’s an accident, so I look at her.

                She catches my eye and winks quickly.

                Slowly, I turn my gaze back to the wine bottle, which spins slower, and slower… and slower… and stops.

                And it’s pointing at me.

                I’m completely sure that Tiffany has some kind of trick to spinning the bottle. I don’t know how she managed it, but she’s deliberately spun the bottle to point at me.

                “Ooh, Madison!” she trills. She doesn’t even ask me whether I pick truth or dare. I mean, I’d have picked dare anyway, but she steamrolls ahead. “Um, let’s see… Oh, I know! Madison, you have got to –ready for this? You have to spend seven minutes in heaven… with Bryce.”

                I stare at her for a moment that stretches out so long and silent it feels like an eternity. I don’t know what to feel – annoyed, surprised, or happy. She’s dared me to spend seven minutes in a closet with Bryce, during which time we’re supposed to make out.

                I’m annoyed at Tiffany for putting me under pressure like this to kiss him. I’m surprised that this was her big plan. I’m happy that her plan is subtler than I’d anticipated and that it’s totally going to work. I think that it’s a lucky coincidence Bryce wasn’t drinking tonight; I wouldn’t have been comfortable with this if he had been.

                Then again… even if her plan is going to work, there’s the indisputable fact that I have to kiss him. I have to kiss a guy. I’ve never kissed a guy before. This isn’t how I imagined my first kiss. What if I’m a terrible kisser?

                It jerks me out of my thoughts when I hear her say, “Well, go on, what’re you waiting for?” and she gives me a shove, prompting me to get to my feet. I do, but it’s a hesitant and awkward movement, and I’m unsteady when I get up. A hand catches my elbow – Bryce’s hand, of course it is. He smiles at me easily, like this is no big deal.

                No big deal? I want to yell at him. I’m freaking out over here!

                I gulp, and then Ricky says, slurring only a little, “Hang on, if you’re gonna do this dare, you’re gonna do it right. Tiffany, do you happen to have one single closet in this house which is not a walk-in one?”

                She laughs. “Come with me.” She gets to her feet, sways a little, hiccups, and then drags Bryce after her. He takes hold of my wrist to pull me along, too. I look over my shoulder. Melissa winks at me, and Summer sends me an excited little smile, looking like she wants to squeal.

                Tiffany pauses partway down the hall, and throws open a white door. It’s dark inside, but I can see shelves with stacks of towels on them, and pipes running behind the shelves.

                “In you go!” she cries, pushing us into the closet, and the door shuts behind us. There’s the noise of a key turning on the other side, and my heart beats nauseatingly fast. I feel just like I did at the start of the party when I hid out in the bathroom – scared and nervous, with sweaty palms and a racing pulse roaring in my ears.

                But the way I’ve got butterflies in my stomach is the good kind of anticipation.

                This definitely isn’t how I imagined my first kiss. But it could be a lot worse, I tell myself.

                “Isn’t there a light switch anywhere?” I ask. My eyes haven’t quite adjusted to the darkness yet, and the only light is the thin band spilling in through the crack under the door.

                “No idea,” Bryce says. His voice is closer than I expected it to be, and I can feel his breath tickle my face a little. His fingers are still closed around my wrist and as I remember they’re there, my hand twitches involuntarily. Instead of letting go, Bryce just loosens his grip so his fingers brush against mine.

                “What, you’re not even going to try and look for one?”

                “I wasn’t planning on it, no.”

                I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me doing it. “I don’t suppose there’s a way to unlock this door from the inside either, huh? I don’t –”

                “Madison,” Bryce says, talking over me a little. His voice is hushed though, and I feel him moving closer. I don’t know why I do it, but as he steps closer I step back – not that I can step back very far. The closet is so small, my back hits the shelves before I even take a full step.

                My eyes are adjusting still, but I can make out Bryce looking at me. He’s standing right up close to me now.

                “If we’re going to be in here for the next seven minutes,” he says, his voice still quiet. “I’ll just do what I’ve been waiting to do all night.”

                And then he kisses me.

                It’s a cheesy line, and I roll my eyes at it – but it almost makes me blush, and I wonder if it’s true, if he actually has been waiting all night to kiss me.

                It’s kind of a weird feeling, being kissed. But a good kind of weird. I don’t know what I’m doing at all, but I just follow Bryce’s lead and press my lips back against his. He puts a hand on my waist and his other hand entwines our fingers together.

                His lips are soft and warm against mine, and the kiss is kind of tentative at first. But once I start to kiss him back, he kisses me harder, and his hand on my waist slides around to the small of my back, so he can pull me closer against him.

                At first, my arms just hang there, because I don’t know what to do with them or where to put my hands. When I’m kissing him back though, I forget all about how awkward and inexperienced I am, and my arms snake up around his neck, my hands resting on his broad shoulders.

                I’m the one to pull away first.

                “Don’t tell me kissing is too mainstream for you,” he says teasingly, a chuckle in his voice. I laugh too.

                “No.”

                “Good,” he replies, and with that, he’s kissing me again.

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(Note about the start: Ahahahaa it wasn't Bryce!) And aww, they kissed! What do we all think now, after this chapter? :')

And no, before you jump to any kind of conclusions, Dwight will still be one of the main characters, fear not! He's her physics buddy, remember? They have to stick together like a quark-antiquark pair in a pion. (I like quarks okay I felt the need to throw it in.)

Follow me on twitter @Reekles too :)