I woke up with a splitting headache.

Sunlight streamed through an open window and I winced. The brightness killed me.

I shut my eyes tight.

My neck was sore, too.

Not to mention, I was cold and...wait, I was warm.

Why was I warm?

The soft snores beside me quickly answered my question. A big hand was wrapped around my waist, my head in the crook of a strong, muscular arm, my face plastered against the warm skin of a rock hard chest.

I was in the tub.

Shit; we were in the tub.

Fuck.

I was dead. I had definitely died, because there was no way that this could possibly be happening to me.

I needed Jesus.

I turned as slowly as I could, catching a final look at my "friend" before I bolted.

He smiled in his sleep, whoever he was, and a big dimple in his right cheek made all of the blood rush to my face.

Holy fucking shit!

That's when I started to panic. I looked down at my exposed skin, quickly placing a hand over my bra. My shirt was across the bathroom floor, and I pushed myself up from the tub as quietly as I possibly could. I didn't want to wake the guy in the tub, but I also needed to get out of that bathroom, find my friends, and drive as far away from Bradley Hunt's party-sex-frat-house as fast as I possibly could.

Somehow, I gathered enough composure to step out of the tub without falling, slip my shirt over my head, straighten my skirt and grab my shoes.

Then, I tiptoed from the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

My heart was beating out of my head.

I had to find my friends.

-~*~-

Do you believe in fate?

I know everyone doesn't, but since I've been home for winter break, I Thalia Christine Rose, have been pretty sure that somewhere, there's someone or something pretty much trying to ruin my life.

I'm so serious, I even looked it up on my phone.

According to Dictionary.com, fate's got five meanings.

Take a look for yourself:

fate - [feyt] noun, verb, fat·ed, fat·ing. noun

1.something that unavoidably befalls a person; fortune; lot: It is always his fate to be left behind.

2.the universal principle or ultimate agency by which the order of things is presumably

prescribed; thedecreed cause of events; time: Fate decreed that they would never meet again.

3.that which is inevitably predetermined; destiny: Death is our ineluctable fate.

4.a prophetic declaration of what must be: The oracle pronounced their fate.

5.death, destruction, or ruin.

Okay, so aside from that last one, I swear to you; someone's got it out for me. Ever since I got home for winter break, well...things have been happening, and I'm not talking about good things. I'm talking about waking-up-in-a-bathtub-with-one-of-your-best-friend's-worst-enemies kinds of things. These are the types of things that make you wonder who or what wants you to lead a miserable life, and I swear to you, it all started the day after I flew in from school.

-~*~-

I could hear the music before I reached the door.

I wrinkled my nose as I slid into the passenger seat of Mischa's car. "No way, Misch. No! I've got to draw the line somewhere."

Her almond eyes widened defensively. "Hello to you, too?"

I ignored that. "Sorry, but I'm not listening to your country shit," I sighed dramatically, folding my arms across my chest as Kenny Chesney crooned through Mischa's two-door Wrangler. "Please? I'm all out of Advil and the banjo seriously fucks with my head."

She laughed.

"Besides, this isn't North Carolina," I continued, rolling my eyes sarcastically. "We're in L.A., remember?"

"Yeah, but--"

"But, nothing," I quipped, waving my hand dismissively. "Look, I've survived three semesters with that music. I say it's only fair to me and my sanity that I get a break until January, deal?"

Mischa reached forward, long, silky black hair grazing the seat as she lovingly stroked the dash of her Jeep.

"It's okay, baby, don't listen to Thalia. She's only jealous of our relationship. She wishes she had what we do."

"Very funny," I sighed, sticking out my tongue. She knew I had been hoping, praying for a car. I was 19 for crying out loud; it was about time I got to drive without begging my parents for one of theirs. I had my fingers crossed for Christmas.

"Since I'm a good friend, I'll compromise," Mischa said, flipping the radio from Kenny to today's top 40 hits.

I let out an exaggerated sigh of relief as Rihanna blared through the speakers.

"You're welcome."

I flashed her my biggest smile. "Thanks, Misch. Now, where are we going, again?"

"Lunch!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together as she pulled from my driveway. "I told Nikki you flew in last night, so she planned a day for us," she elbowed me. "She missed you, possibly more than me."

At that, I laughed. "Aww!" I squealed. "I can't wait to see her, either."

Mischa and I had roomed together freshman year and had become instant best friends at George Washington University. That summer, I met her older sister, Nikita. Before I knew it, I had become equally close with both girls, and along with a few others, the three of us had formed a close group of friends.

"Good, because we're meeting her at Sugarfish," Mischa announced happily as she merged onto the freeway. "I hope you're in the mood for sushi."

When wasn't I?

-~*~-

"Guys, over here!"

"I thought you guys would never show! Nikita exclaimed, as Mischa and I slid into the open booth. We've been starving waiting for you two."

Her sister laughed beside me, swatting her arm. "Sorry, guys," she frowned. "Traffic was awful. There's a really bad accident on Wilshire."

I nodded, reaching for my waiting glass of water.

"Eew," Jamie rolled her eyes as Eliza nodded in consent.

"When isn't there traffic in L.A.?"

"Well, I could literally eat a cow," I exclaimed, looking around the table to Mischa, Nikita and her two best friends.

"Samesies," Jamie nodded, shaking her thick bun of braids up and down. "Get the spicy tuna roll, its delicious."

"Then it's settled," I exclaimed, clapping my menu together.

Mischa laughed beside me, "I'm ready to order, too."

"Our waiter should be back in a sec," Nikki smiled, crossing her hands and resting her chin across her laced fingers. She grinned at me. "Nice to see you, Thal."

I batted my eyelashes, making her laugh. "Of course it is, Nikki," I teased. "I know how much you love me."

"Most times."

"Always."

"Got a boyfriend yet, Thal?" Eliza interjected with a quick wink.

"Yeah," Mischa asked, leaning towards me like she didn't already know the answer to the question. "Got a boyfriend, Thal?"

I shook my head. "Not anymore," I sighed.

Jamie's head jerked up. "Anymore?"

I waved her off dismissively. "Yes," I sighed. "I had a boyfriend, I don't anymore. End of story."

The very thought of Jordan Cole made a pit form in the bottom of my stomach. We'd dated all throughout our freshman year, only for me to find that he'd been hooking up with other girls while he was with me. I'd wasted so much time on him... I could feel my jaw tighten as his beautiful, stupid brown eyes flashed tauntingly across my mind.

My friends must have noticed my shift in mood, because the subject was quickly dropped.

"Well, guess where we're going tomorrow?" Eliza continued, I could tell in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Where?" I asked, forcing a smile.

Jamie clapped her hands together. "One of our friends is throwing a huge party with his frat at UCLA. He went to Westchester with us, and guess what?"

Before Mischa or I could respond, Eliza leaned into the table: "He decided to invite our entire graduating class."

"Seriously?" I exclaimed. I hadn't been to UCLA except to tour it before I applied to colleges.

Mischa and I exchanged glances. We loved going to frat parties, and with all of the universities in D.C., we made it a point to visit as many campuses as we could.

Besides, Mischa was a boy magnet. Everywhere we went, guys were naturally drawn to her. She was African-American and Japanese, and the girl got the best traits of both.

How else could you meet cute boys from other schools...and get over stupid exes?

But, that's when Mischa's eyebrow spiked. "Wait, your whole class was invited?"

Jamie and Eliza nodded like idiots.

Mischa cast a quick glance at her sister. "So, you mean Xander O'Hara got invited, too?"

I jumped as Nikita nearly spit out her drink.

Jamie and Eliza exchanged quick looks.

"Oh, god..."

"Here we go..."

A year older than Mischa and me, they were Nikita's oldest friends. They'd all gone to school together since the third grade, and it helped that they had all gone off to Ivies, only hours apart.

Not to mention, Jamie King and Elizabeth Artinian were incredibly popular in high school; as cheerleaders and club leaders and school council chairs, the three of them had practically run their high school. They were constantly surrounded by athletes and cheerleaders and student leaders and band geeks and anyone and everyone else who wanted to breathe the same air as the beautiful, popular, intelligent and all around most perfect students to step onto Westchester High School's campus.

"Are you okay?" I asked, staring at the expressions around the table.

Nikita didn't hear me. "He won't go," she said quickly, quietly. "There's no way he'd go."

She peered around the table. "Right?"

"Right," Jamie nodded slowly, dragging out the 'i.' "Sure. Whatever you say, Nikki."

Nikita glared at her. "Are you trying not to be helpful?"

"You can't run from him forever. It's been three years since we graduated," Jamie shrugged. "It's time to move on."

Eliza nodded. "I can't believe you've avoided him for this long."

I turned to Mischa, whose eyes stayed glued to the napkin in her lap.

"What's wrong?"

Mischa bit her lip. "Well--"

I turned to Nikita. "Nikki," I began, "who's Xander?"

She groaned. "Not now, Thal."

"Now's as good a time as any," Jamie huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "Tell her, Nikita," she said. Jamie was always like a mother, even when she didn't need to be. "Tell her why you don't want to go."

Nikki let her head fall heavily against her seat. "I just don't wanna."

Mischa leaned forwards. "C'mon, Nikki; you can tell Thalia."

"I don't--it's not that big of a deal."

"Really?" Jamie snorted. "It's not?"

"Okay, fine! He's just..." she paused, shaking her head, "He's the literal worst."

"But," Mischa's voice faltered, "it's been years. Why does it matter now?"

"Exactly," Nikita grumbled. "Why should he and his stupid friends ruin my reunion?"

"God," Mischa sighed, "you're ridiculous, Nikki."

"Thank you," Eliza sighed. "Someone gets it."

I threw up my hands. "Okay, I give up. I'm completely lost."

"Your friend Nikita here," Jamie began with a pointed look towards Nikki, "has a real love/hate--"

"More like hate/hate," Eliza muttered.

"Anyway," Jamie rolled her eyes, "Nikita hates this guy. Literally, they've argued throughout high school. They can't go five seconds without trying to tear each other to shreds. And because she hates him," she turned to me, "naturally, she hates all of his friends."

"What?" I asked. "Why?"

Jamie rolled her eyes to the ceiling of Sugarfish. "Who knows."

"Who cares?" muttered Mischa.

"Because they're hoodlums," Nikita snapped. "They're all rude and stupid and don't care about anyone but themselves. Believe me," she said, teeth clenched together, "I know.

"Well," Jamie began, "they didn't exactly have the best reputations. They were always known as the troublemakers. Y'know," she shrugged, "the 'bad boys.'"

"But wow, Thal," Eliza beamed, shaking her head of thick, curly black hair, "they were so freaking hot."

I laughed. "That sounds like the makings of a bad Wattpad story."

Jamie and Eliza laughed.

Nikita didn't.

"Nikki," Mischa groaned, "it's been a long time. People change."

"Not them," she said, gripping her menu. "Not. Them. I bet you that if they show up--"

"Which they probably won't," added Eliza. "They were always too cool and badass to attend school functions."

"--they'll be exactly like I remembered them in high school."

"But they won't go," Jamie groaned. "You know they won't show up. They never did."

Mischa nodded. "If nothing's changed, they definitely won't show up to a reunion party."

"Fine," Nikita inhaled sharply, ignoring me. "You're right; I should go."

Collective squeals went up around the table.

Mischa's eyebrow touched her hairline. "You're sure?"

Her sister nodded. "Why not? You're right; he and his friends never really went to parties while we were in high school. Why would they come to this?"

As Jamie and Eliza nodded, I couldn't help but notice the doubt that laced her words.

Mischa cast another hesitant glance towards her sister as our waiter took that opportunity to approach the table.

"Ready to order, Ladies?"

We flashed our best smiles at the tall, twenty-something waiter before us.

"Yes," Jamie announced. "I'll have--"

As Jamie ordered, I kicked Nikki beneath the table.

"Ouch," she scowled. "Thalia!"

"Lighten up, Oscar the Grouch," I smiled. "Who knows?" I offered, "your bad boys might not even show up?"

She offered me a small grin. "Right," she nodded. "You're absolutely right."

Wrong. I had been absolutely wrong.