Ever seen a high school party in action? Well, that was exactly what was happening at the Jefferson residence. It was as if a club had been misplaced and been brought to suburbia. Dance music blared from the speakers where the hired DJ had set himself up at. Red solo cups sloshed around as the tipsy, drunk, and everything in between teenagers swayed to the beat of the music. Ingrid made a face, knowing very well that it'd be a huge mess for whoever had to clean up the next morning. But, as she enters the house, feeling the pulse of the music, and the mood of the party, she felt almost at peace.

If she was worried before, then certainly, she wouldn't be now. The music and cheap alcohol would replace her feelings. Rosemary and Hunter follow her in, the older girl already barefoot after slipping her heels off at the door. Ingrid does the same, freeing herself from her uncomfortable heels, since they caused her to start blistering all over after wearing them for just that short period of time.

Rosemary disappears into the crowd, while Hunter makes a beeline for the table filled with cups of various liquors. This left Ingrid alone in a sea full of people. What do people at parties do? Ingrid had never been to an actual party before, nonetheless taken a single sip of alcohol in her life. Well, everyone has a cup, so maybe that's where the action begins.

"Ingrid! Decided to have a little fun tonight, I see?" Daniel greets, interrupting Ingrid's thoughts. "You look stunning, by the way. I don't think I've ever seen you look like an actual girl."

Ingrid's cheeks flame, a rosy pink that creeps up her face. "Thanks. I guess tonight would be the perfect night to live a little, and the best way to do that would be to dress up. I've also never been to a party before, so I guess it's time to change that."

"What? The Ingrid Armstrong's never been to a party? Well, then, let the king of parties himself show the girl who's never been to one the basics of partying." his brother Chance interrupts, a grin showing on his lips. "Can we get her some alcohol in her system?" he then calls out, a guy the size of a string bean tentatively doing so, pushing up his wire frame glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "That's what I'm talking about. Here, drink this. It'll get your adrenaline flowing through your veins." Chance smirks, handing her the red solo cup. Ingrid downs it all, just wanting to forget about everything bad that was currently happening to her.

"Chance, you got her under wraps? Lexie's in a mood and I need to go check on her." Daniel asks, a sigh following. A pained look crosses his face, Ingrid smirking to his expression. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Yeah, she's having a total diva moment. She won't leave the room, and refuses to speak to anyone until I get there."

"Well, have fun with that. Ingrid and I will be having the time of our lives." Chance replies, taking Ingrid by the hand and bringing her to the dance floor, the two beginning to dance to the remix playing. Her mind was completely free; the only thing on her mind right now was dancing.

About six drinks later, Chance and Ingrid were kissing in the kitchen. She was way past the point of drunk; she was too far gone by this point. She wouldn't remember this tomorrow morning for sure. Chance definitely had talked her into this, because sober Ingrid would have never done something as bold as this. Her hair had since been let down, and her lipstick was smeared all over her, as well as Chance. They were about to head upstairs when Flynn pulls them apart.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, is this your girl? I didn't know she was off-limits, my bad."

Ingrid's face scrunches up in disgust. "What do you want?" she huffs, scanning him up and down. "Here to talk about your feelings?"

"You're drunk. I'm taking you home." Flynn states, gently grabbing her by the arm.

Ingrid recoils, standing her ground. "No way. I'm having more fun than you could ever dream of."

"Do you realize that he's using you?"

"Who cares? It's a party. This kind of stuff always happens at parties."

"I'm not letting you go upstairs with him. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I want to go upstairs with him."

"That's just the alcohol talking, Ingrid. Come on, let me take you home."

"Go away."

"Ingrid, please."

"No."

"Yes."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Nope."

"Yep."

"Certainly not."

"Certainly...I don't have a good rebuttal here."

"Not going to happen."

"Yes, it is."

Ingrid just rolls her eyes, walking away from both Chance and Flynn. Flynn goes after her, cutting her off before she grabs another cup. "I don't think you need another drink right now."

"Who are you, the police?"

"No, but I'm a worried friend."

"Ew."

"Ingrid, let me bring you home. You're clearly way too drunk to drive yourself home."

"Jokes on you, I don't have a driver's license."

"Let's go."

"No!"

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Flynn sighs, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

"Hey! Put me down!" Ingrid shouts, hitting his back repeatedly.

Flynn stays silent, making his way through the crowd with an irritated Ingrid trying to free herself unsuccessfully. He makes his way outside as she starts clawing his back at another attempt to get herself down. "You're not going to get yourself down that way." he chuckles, unlocking his truck door. He puts her down, but not before blocking her from darting away. He helps her in, quickly hopping in so that she couldn't get out either.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm a good friend."

"No, you're not."

"If I was a bad friend, I would have just let you get your heart inevitably broken by that playboy."

"You're too good for me. I'm going to be so hungover tomorrow morning."

"Who throws a party on a Wednesday night? That's destined to fail."

"Chance Jefferson, that's who."

"He's going to have a rough time in college if he keeps partying like this."

"You know how my dad left us when I was five?"

Flynn raises an eyebrow at the sudden change of topic, but nods in response.

"Well, I think he killed someone."

Startled, Flynn steps on the brakes with wide eyes. "What?"

"There's this woman that died under mysterious circumstances around the time he left. I'm pretty sure he did it."

"Okay, whatever you say. We can talk about this if you remember in the morning."

"I'm serious! My dad's a murderer."

"I believe you, I just think this isn't something you should be talking about while you're out of it."

"You're too good for me."

"You said that already."

"Well, it's true. You're way too good for me."

"You're just saying that because you're drunk."

"But it's true! You, Flynn Newfield, are way too good for me. I don't know how, but I ended up meeting one of the kindest people to ever exist. You're like, an angel. An angel with a stupid white truck that only has one working door. Aren't you like, really rich? Can't you just buy a brand new truck? You're not that smart, Flynn Newfield, but that's okay. I'm not that smart either. I mean, I'm in summer school, so I guess that tells you how stupid I am. Are you, like, really hungry? I could really go for some Chinese food right now. But I don't want to go there dressed like this. I mean, I don't even have my shoes on. Look, Flynn, I'm barefoot!"

"And we're here." he announces, parking in the driveway. He gets out, helping the inebriated girl out as well.

"My legs are like jelly."

"Do you need me to help you in?"

"Carry me."

Flynn, amused, chuckles, but picks her up bridal-style before bringing her into her house. "Oh God, I think I'm going to be si-" Ingrid begins, before throwing up all over Flynn and herself.

He puts her down on the couch in the living room, not bothered in the slightest by the vomit. "Do you want me to clean you up?"

"You would do that for me?"

"Like you said, I'm too good for you. Of course I'll clean you up, but only if you want me to."

"Get me out of this dress. I want my sweatpants."

"Where are they at?"

"In my room, duh."

He disappears down the hall, returning with a t-shirt and sweatpants. Ingrid had since fell asleep, curled up in a ball. Flynn just smiles, helping her out of the dress and into the clothes he had got for her. He had discarded his shirt, which was covered in vomit, leaving him in his undershirt and his pants; this was so Ingrid wouldn't be filthy again as he brought her to her bed. Listening to her soft snores, he left the room, closing the door as he left altogether. Ingrid probably wouldn't remember this in the morning, but that was okay with Flynn.