"Stella!" Stacey called, waving me over after my Econ class—a bore complete with a droning teacher. "You've got to go down to the quad."

    "Dare I ask why?" I asked, raising a brow.

    "Just go," she responded before rushing to her next class. Slightly unnerved, I made my way to the quad to find that a booth had been set up on the side with the catchphrase "Cupcakes for Kim!" There was a small crowd in front of the table topped with cupcakes, a few snacking on cupcakes. Walking over, I tried to remain calm and not turn on my heels and run.

    "Kimberly!" I called, spotting the familiar brunette behind the counter. "Can I borrow you for a few minutes?"

    "Stella!" Kimberly greeted, raising a rainbow sprinkle-topped, white-frosted treat to me. "Cupcake?"

    "Thanks, but I need to run," I responded smoothly, hooking her arm and leading her behind the booth to an isolated patch in the quad. "So what's with the girl scout-wannabe gig?"

    "We're fundraising," Kimberly enthused, taking a bite of her cupcake. "Need to get funds from somewhere, right?"

    I mentally groaned—fundraising? What are you, in high school? Our school didn't "fundraise"—we spent money. The last time I heard the word "fundraise" was at a charity program, and our elections were not charity.

    "Kimberly, I think that you're taking this a little far," I started slowly. "We don't have fundraisers around here—what are you planning that you can't pay for?"

    "I don't have any funds in the bank like the other candidates," Kimberly said with a frown. "Elections are in two weeks and the other candidates have already started advertising themselves by hosting parties and stuff."

    "They don't have funds either," I explained impatiently. "Everything they've done was paid personally, and the chancellor can't do anything about it since they can just pass it off as a party."

    Kimberly looked surprised at my words, her mouth opening and closing like a guppy.

    "Oh Kimberly, did you really think the students at a esteemed private school for the rich weren't going to abuse their wealth?" I asked, sighing. "Carry on with the fundraiser, but do try to get your funds from elsewhere next time—it's degrading to have a council president, elected or not, grubbing for money."

    Just as I was getting ready to leave—buying a complimentary cupcake and telling the cashier to keep the change—cheers erupted from the school gates. Half the football team charged towards the cupcake stall, shouting and hooting. When the crew arrived, the sea of navy and white uniforms parted for a lone figure with a bouquet of white roses.

"Kimberly Morgan," Calum said, blue eyes unintelligible from my angle. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

A wave of wolf-whistles and howls followed his question. I spotted Chad in the crowd, pumping his hands up to rally the group into further fervor. Before I could collect my wits enough to form a thought, the world went silent as Kimberly opened her mouth to speak.

"Thank you so much for all of this, Calum," she said, cheeks red but eyes resolved, "but I can't accept. I have to focus on my campaign first."

A roll of groans ensued, but Calum pushed on.

"Then after the election?" he asked, approaching the petite brunette in a hoodie and shorts. "What about then?"

"Then," Kimberly started, taking a step away from Calum as he neared her before stopping to face him. "Then, yes."

I turned away immediately, blasting myself internally for feeling so wretched. Why did—what—how—

How could the girl that just arrived a few months prior capture Calum's heart so deeply but be unaffected herself? How could she waltz into the center of our university and try to preach her morals, her thoughts?

How dare she.

And suddenly I needed something—someone—to remind me that I was still worth something. That I was still worth more than that girl being embraced by Calum Andrew Remington.

    Without thinking, I pulled out my phone and dialed Jordan, walking quickly towards my car in the process.

    Goddamnit Jordan! Pick up! I need—

    And just like that, it was over. I didn't need affirmation. I didn't need reassurance. I was Stella Renee Reyes, and I didn't have time for dalliances such as this.

    Without another thought, I drove home.

---

"You're beautiful," my dark-haired dance partner whispered in my ear as I ground against him slowly on the mock dance floor.

"As are you," I responded, laying a light peck on his cheek before weaving my way through the moving bodies and to the living room. Pete's parties were not to be missed—it was guaranteed that you'd find what you were looking for, if you were looking for the right things.

Looking around, I spotted Karen, Whitney, and Pete chatting near the kitchen door.

"Hey Peter," I said, teasing him with his full name. The light-haired brunette rolled his eyes at me before grinning.

"It's Pete to all but my mother," he reminded me, looking me over. "You look as beautiful as ever. Tell me—what would it take for a night with you?"

"Drunk already?" I asked, laughing. Karen and Whitney rolled their eyes.

"He took shots earlier," Karen explained. "Vodka."

"Thanks Hunt," Whitney said as Hunter handed out the drinks. "Oh—do you want mine, Stella? I've already had one."

"Thanks, but I've had several already," I told her, looking around. "Anything fun happening yet?"

"I think there's going to be beer pong in the corner over there," Pete said, a frown on his face as he scanned the room contemplatively before breaking out into a greasy smirk. "But, now that you all here, I think we can get a decent game of spin-the-bottle going."

"Who else is there?" I asked, smiling apologetically at Hunter. "Sorry Hunter—the idea of kissing you just doesn't make my day."

"Well we have Jordan and Caden somewhere around," Pete started, fingers up to count the list of bodies. "Then there's Chad—I'm assuming he's here, of course—and David and his group. Oh, and Calum. He's here with his girlfriend."

"They're not dating yet," Karen reminded Pete, who looked momentarily confused before laughing it off.

"Please, you think he hasn't done her yet? She's bound to crumble one of these days, and I don't blame her," he said, a wide grin on his face. "What I would do to get a piece of that manly piece of ass..."

"Ew, keep your gay feels to yourself," Stacey joked, walking in on the group as Pete finished drooling over the blue-eyed jock. "I've seen enough boy-on-boy tonight. Did you know that Davidson and Kane are dating? Someone could have warned me that two hotties were taken—by each other."

"No I did not," Pete said, amused. "Have you went out to the back yet? I think the second-furthest bush is still occupied, if you ever need to see any more."

"Pete," I said, exasperated but amused.

"Yes, back to business," Pete said, looking around. "Yo Blake! Spread that we're doing spin-the-bottle in the dining room—ten minutes."

"How's it going, Pete?" Jordan asked, emerging from the then-parlor, now-dance-floor.

"Brooks, my man!" Pete said, embracing Jordan with a hearty hug and back-thump. "Just socializing with the ladies. We're doing spin-the-bottle in ten—you in?"

"Sure," Jordan replied, grinning. "Who's playing?"

"These fine specimens," Pete joked, winking. "What? Gotta flash the big guns or who'll care?"

"Well, I'll be in the kitchen with Whitney and Hunter," Karen said, excusing herself.

"Leaving me out to the wolves now?" Stacey asked, laughing.

"Just getting a drink first," Karen called as she walked away. "Need to get hammered before I kiss everyone."

"I'm going to go find some hot bods for the game now," Pete said, pausing to pat Jordan on the shoulder before he left. "Entertain these ladies for a moment, Brooks. I can't have them running off before the game starts."

"We're right here, Pete," I reminded the light brown-haired boy as he left, laughing.

"I'm going to opt out too," Stacey said, waving a small goodbye and dashing off. "Just saw the new halfie over there—Japanese-American, drool!"

"Stacey! Wait..." I trailed off, knowing that it would be no use. Turning to Jordan, I put on a smile and crossed my fingers internally in hopes that he forgot about the missed call the other day. "Guess it's just you and me—unless you have plans too?"

"Not really," he said with a grin, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "How 'bout you?"

"Unfortunately spin-the-bottle seems like the most interesting thing around right now," I admitted.

"Beer pong?"

"Do I look like I'm dressed to be soaked in alcohol?"

"Probably not," he said, scanning over me. "Definitely not."

"Always the sweet talker," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Not with you," Jordan retorted with a grin before pausing. "Can I... Can I talk to you about something, Stella?"

"What?" I asked, laughing awkwardly. This was going south, fast. "Not something bad?"

"No," Jordan said, chuckling lightly as he led me to a less promiscuous corner of the room. "At least I hope not."

"'Kay then," I said, thinking up excuses for the call. Desperation? Spider emergency? "Let's hear it."

"I just—" Jordan started, cutting himself off before taking a breath and starting again. "Stella, I'm—"

"Stella! We're starting the game!" Calum called from across the room where a ring of willing and unwilling participants was already forming.

"Coming!" I called back, forcing a grin before turning back to Jordan. He had finished speaking already, and his face was a portrait of conflicting emotions—his eyebrows furrowed, eyes sorrowful, mouth bent in a slight frown—and I could only guess at his intentions. Guilt over not being able to take my call, most likely. "Don't worry about it—it happens to everyone. Just text me back asap and tell me you're not available."

Jordan opened his mouth in protest but closed it again, letting the awkward mood hang in the air. Suddenly I wondered whether he had been apologizing--he looked so sad, so full of want and derision--but then again Jordan didn't strike me as someone to apologize often, so perhaps the hesitance had been from forcing himself to say the dreaded words. The downfalls of having big egos.

Dragging him towards Calum, I couldn't help but note that I had the same sort of emotions for Calum--a conflict of want and derision.

The difference was that while Jordan was apologizing, I was far from done.

---

Spin-the-bottle was full of jeers and sloppy, tongue-full kisses. I vaguely recall sticking my tongue down Pete's throat—the jeers and whistles that followed were singularly loud—but everything's hazy. At some point the game had taken a turn into never-have-I-ever, and Pete had brought out the absinthe.

"Let's get wasted!" he had cheered excitedly, and the world blurred up soon after. I learned a lot about my friends then, like how Hunter and Whitney allegedly had sex on the football field at midnight and how Jordan's had a threesome before. Calum's words echoed in my ears as he said that, and I had dissolved in giggles.

During spin-the-bottle, Kimberly had drawn increasingly closer to Calum and by time we started never-have-I-ever she was practically in his arms, sneaking kisses to each other when everyone else was preoccupied with the spotlit individual. I had tried to ignore their presence in the beginning of the game, but after a dozen shots of absinthe I don't really know what happened. The pair weren't there at the disbandment of the ring of players, and I was irritated to no end by this fact.

Who did Kimberly think she was, PDA-ing all over? Wasn't she supposed to be the virgin? The one that's innocent, pure, clueless, and naive? I was by the minibar in the room with the pounding beats and now sweaty bodies trying to order another round of shots when Stacey came up to me.

"Stella, what's gotten into you?" she demanded, taking my wrist and trying to drag me away from the booze laid out on the counter.

"Nothing!" I spat back, wrenching my arm out of her grip. "Leave me alone. It's not like anyone actually seems to want to spend time with me."

"Stella!" she exclaimed in surprise, eyes wide. "How can you—is this about Kimberly?"

"No," I snapped, taking a shot and choking on it. Tears sprang into my eyes as the drink burned my throat, and a roll of coughs attacked me. Stacey patted my back sympathetically, leading me into the living room where people were more preoccupied with beer pong—still going—and exchanging fluids to notice.

"Stella, just say the word," Stacey whispered, leaning in as she patted my back lightly. "I can arrange everything."

"I—" I began before another hack cut me off. Taking a few breaths before trying again, I looked into her eyes and internally decided: why the hell not? It's not like anything bad would come out of this—isn't picking on the new girl normal or something? "Okay, Stacey. I want her out."

"Consider it done," Stacey said with a wicked grin, giving me a final pat on the back. "I'll get someone to take you home—you've had way too much to drink tonight."

I opened my mouth to protest as another choke shook through me, the flame in my airway weaker now. What did I intend to stay here for anyway? After a few seconds—my sense of time was skewed, but that's what it felt like—Stacey came back with Jordan. They exchanged a few words just as I was falling asleep, tired at last, and Jordan scooped me up.

"Let's get you home, princess," he whispered as the world faded into the blissful numbness of sleep. His voice was husky, and his breath smelled faintly of vodka and citrus and...

---

Author's note:

Hello world! How's life treating you? Test season is looming overhead for me, but I'm going to try my best to keep up updates :)

Ran out of ideas for the insert in the beginning, so comment and tell me what you want to hear about. I'll just stick it in if it fits, and I've heard whispers about how amazing readers can be <3

Updates every Tuesday, per usual, and thanks so much for reading! Be sure to vote too (for my ego, of course ;) )

—Littlewhims