Chapter 8

Talia’s POV

I didn’t come to this party to prove anything.

Okay… maybe that’s a lie.

Maybe I wanted to look hot and turn heads in heels, or maybe I wanted to feel anything other than stupid, or heartbroken, or humiliated.

So yeah, I put on the tight soft blush pink dress that I had been saving for no one. My hair tied up into a messy bun with curls falling over my brows. My lips were a dark wine red that said try me.

Deej had come over so we could head for the party together, and the moment I stepped out of the bathroom—

“Girl!!!” she whispered sweetly. “Ouuuuf… you look like revenge.”

“Perfect,” I said, playfully taking model poses. “That’s exactly what I’m going for.”

We got to the party in record seconds, and the place was chaos. The music was loud, and neon lights flashed across the room. The air smelled of sweat, cheap perfume, and bad decisions.

The moment I stepped in, heads turned. Everything about me screamed not today, satan. I didn’t look anything like Talia the skater girl, rather I looked like problem, like a damn storm with legs— and I loved it.

“Babe,” Deej said, walking behind me like the proud hype girl that she was. “You just gave everyone in this room an identity crisis.”

I smirked. “That’s the goal.”

“TALIA!!!”

I turned just in time to see Chris nearly trip over someone’s foot as he pushed through the bodies, his jaw practically on the floor.

“No freaking way,” he yelled. “You look—hold on, lemme catch my breath.” He stared at me with his mouth and eyes wide open and without a shred of shame. “YOU LOOK STUPID HOT.”

A few people turned. Then the DJ shouted, “Damn!… I see a real angel!”

I tried to keep a straight face but failed miserably. Then I looked back at Chris. “Stupid hot?” I asked, raising a brow.

He threw both hands up dramatically. “I’m sorry, I’m overwhelmed. I wasn’t prepared. You didn’t warn me.”

“Well,” I shrugged. “I was going for shock therapy.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he just pulled me and Deej into a big hug.

“I’m going to get drinks,” Chris said, letting go. “Let’s get this party started!”

“Woohhhh!!!” we all shouted as we did our signature fist bump.

I and Deej started to dance and Chris came back with drinks. We gulped them down, then we had another round.

Then another.

And another.

And just like that, we kept drinking until we were tipsy.

“Looking good, skater girl,” a voice purred beside me.

I turned, and there he was—Zeke. The stranger from the ice cream shop. His smile was easy, like he belonged in a teen drama. He wore all black, his sleeves were rolled up, tattoos peeking under his cuffs, and his tousled hair falling over his face. He was so hot, the kind of hot that made you forget your name for a second.

“You came,” he said, holding out a cup.

I took it like I didn’t give a care in the world. “You promised no jerks.”

“And look,” he said, grinning. “Not one in sight.”

We clinked our cups and I took my drink in one gulp.

“Easy there, skater girl,” Zeke said, collecting the cup from me. “Looks like you’ve had more than enough to drink for tonight.”

“No! I want more,” I protested. I needed everything that could take my mind off Maxton, but no matter how hard I tried, he still lingered.

Zeke chuckled softly. “Come on,” he offered a hand. “Let’s dance before the playlist turns to sad boy heartbreak song.”

I hesitated for like… half a second. Then shrugged.

Why not?

The floor was chaos. People dancing like no one was filming, which meant somebody definitely was. I let Zeke spin me around and I laughed louder than I had in weeks. He wasn’t so bad at dancing. He kept his hands respectful, didn’t step on my toes, and even complimented my skills when I jokingly twirled.

Okay. Maybe tonight wasn’t a total disaster.

Until it was.

Because fate’s a little messy bitch.

And right in the middle of my laugh, even if I was drunk, I caught a movement near the door.

No.

No freaking way.

Maxton Carter.

He wore a black hoodie soaked with sweat, probably from working out or punching something. He looked around the room like he was searching for someone to fight. Or kiss. Or maybe both.

Then his eyes met mine from across the room. And I swear time stopped— or maybe I just forgot how it was to breathe.

“What the hell is he doing here?” I hissed, turning to Deej.

Her eyes widened. “Crap. Who invited him?”

Zeke noticed and followed my gaze. “Friend of yours?”

I nearly choked. “Definitely not.”

Maxton didn’t hesitate. He walked through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea, his eyes stayed on me the whole time.

I turned to Deej. “Abort mission. I need a bathroom. Or an exit. Or a teleportation spell.”

But it was too late. He was right in front of us. His eyes dropped to Zeke’s hand on my waist, and I swear I heard him grind his teeth.

“Seriously?” he said.

“Seriously what?” I arched a brow.

“This?” He gestured between us. “So you’re replacing me with the first idiot that hands you a drink?”

I blinked. “You never had a spot to begin with.”

Zeke laughed. “Awkward…”

“Back off,” Maxton’s jaw tightened.

Zeke didn’t flinch. “She’s not yours.”

“She’s not yours either.”

I stepped in between them. “Okay, testosterone parade. Calm down.”

Maxton’s eyes snapped to mine. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m having fun,” I corrected. “Something you wouldn’t know how to do if it danced naked in front of you.”

He opened his mouth, but before he could answer—splash.

A drink hit me in the chest. It was cold, sticky, and stinking of vodka and bitch energy.

Gasps erupted from the crowd around us.

I froze. My dress clung to my skin, soaked and transparent in the worst way possible. My fists curled at my sides.

“Oh no,” Bambi said sweetly from across the room. “Was that mine? Silly me. Guess the Carter mansion lets just anybody in now, huh?”