"Zeya?"

For a moment, when she had opened her eyes, everything was okay. For a split second Zeya didn't recall being attacked by the guy she'd had a crush on since middle school. She didn't remember him being flung off of her by some mysterious force.

In fact, in this instant, it felt as if her brain wasn't even on. Zeya knew someone had called her name and that that person had tugged her from the darkness, but that was it.

Well, until they shook her firmly.

"Are you alright?" It was as if the flood gates had been released, the memories all rushing in. The party, the embarrassment, the walk, the kiss . . .

The first thing she felt was the powerful throbbing in her head.

She'd had headaches before but this one topped the charts. Zeya was more than sure her head would explode. Next to come was the intense wave of nausea. It attacked the moment she attempted to sit up and forced her to lay back down against the leaves.

"Do you need me to call an ambulance?" A very panicked Reed Davis called from above her. It took her an uncomfortably long amount of time to respond.

"No." She tried to sit up again and, this time, Reed rushed to help. He aided in lying her against the nearest tree; the one she'd been touching when it happened. "What are you doing out here?" Zeya had always thought very fondly of Reed but she had been passed out.

Had Reed followed them? Had he done something to her?

"I was looking for my brother. I couldn't find him inside." Zeya glanced in the general direction where Christian had landed; except he wasn't there.

Even in the dim light Zeya could see a spot of blood on some of the leaves. He had been injured and clearly woke up before her, so where was he now?

"Are you sure you're okay?" Reed questioned. Zeya chose not to respond, cause in all honesty she was the farthest thing from okay.

She attempted to rise to her feet, a typhoon of pain hitting her hard. Zeya felt extremely light-headed and caused her, when she was half-way up, to fall back on her butt.

"Ow," she winched, holding her head.

"Come on, I'll help you inside." Reed was clearly worried but he was more concerned about his brother. Zeya completely understood and decided to accept his help. It'd be quicker that way.

Reed assisted her to her feet and guided her from the woods, into her backyard, and eventually into the home. The blaring music only intensified her agony. She moaned as Reed pulled out one of the breakfast bar stools and lowered her into it.

"Can I get you water?" Reed shouted, his voice barely audible over the surroundings.

"No, thank you. Go find your brother." Reed hesitated, eyeing her with a raised brow, before he caved.

"I'll come back to check on you," he offered before hurrying out through the back door. Zeya felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of her body. She was drained and almost too sick to function. She figured she could handle the noise for two minutes' tops before her head literally exploded.

The school's favorite stoner, and her impatient bathroom buddy, sprinted past her and into the kitchen. Zeya watched him, he moved so speedily it was as if he was being timed. He poured two glasses of whichever alcohol his hand first touch and then began to scurry back to whoever the additional glass was for.

But Zeya reached out and grabbed him. If anyone could clear a room, this guy could.

"What the hell? Hands off the merchandise," he ripped his arm from her grasp.

"I," Zeya paused to double over. "I need your help."

"Hey, I'm trying to enjoy myself right now. I'm not going to stop to . . . move something heavy, or-or make out with you to make your boyfriend jeal- "

"I'll give you thirty bucks," Zeya interrupted his little speech, uninterested in the direction it was headed. He ran his tongue over his teeth.

"Let me see the money first."

"Get everyone out of my house and then I'll give it to you." He pouted his lip, displaying his temper tantrum face for he was most likely enjoying himself at the moment and didn't want the party to end. "I'll make it fifty."

The offer was too good to refuse.

"Deal." He gave her a wicked smile before he set his cups down on the countertop. "Hold these." Zeya held her head in her hands as soon as he left, her discomfort about to make her cry.

"Zeya, are you alright?" She sat up straight, the voice unfamiliar. Her eyes locked on a stunning pair of chestnut ones.

He set a gentle hand on her shoulder, his eyes filled to the brim with concern. Even though the stranger was leaning downward he still towered over her. His jet-black hair was on the shorter side and looked as if it hadn't been washed in a few days.

His touch sent a wave of strength throughout her entire body. It was as if his presence had cured every problem.

"Yeah . . . how do you know my name?" She would have never forgotten eyes like his.

"Everyone out!" Zeya's paid associate screeched at the top of his lungs, sprinting through the front door. When had he gone outside? "Cops!"

All it took to clear the one hundred plus cluster of people from Zeya's house were two syllables. The music seemed to cut off all on its own and everyone began pushing and shoving one another to squeeze out the front door.

The stoner continued his panicked tirade into the backyard, screaming: "Cops! Cops!" At the top of his lungs. Zeya turned back to the stranger to find that he was gone. He must have been swept up with the crowd.

A chill ran down her spine as her symptoms began to return.

How in the hell did that guy know her name?

"That has to be a record," her associate exclaimed with a proud smile. He stood beside her, using his elbow to lean against the breakfast bar.

"What?" Zeya's mind was becoming cloudy and she couldn't figure out what exactly he was so happy about.

"I ended your party in about," he paused to remove his cellphone from his back pocket and check the time, "three minutes. I threw up at Stefanie's last year and it took ten minutes for everyone to clear out," he sighed.

"Oh." Zeya remembered she had promised him money. Her mother always kept an emergency fund when she was out of town in the jars on the counter with the cracked lid. Zeya unhurriedly rose from her chair and trudged into the kitchen.

He waited patiently, probably realizing how ill she felt. Zeya eventually reached the jar and pulled out sixty dollars, leaving three bucks behind. She silently cursed at the thought of having to explain to her mother why she had spent sixty dollars.

"Here," she handed the wad of cash over. "I'll give you an extra ten if you lock all the doors when you leave."

Zeya didn't hang around to hear his response. She already started heading toward, and then up, the stairs.

"Want me to tuck you in?" He called.

She didn't even utter a response. Zeya was every single ounce of strength left in her frail body to slog up the steps. She had barely made it into her bedroom before she had fainted.