“Let’s not talk about him,” Conor replied in a lower voice than before. He tensed up. I could feel that he wanted to peek at me to check if I heard, but he didn’t have to.

“What boyfriend?” I asked because it was already too late. I couldn’t ignore that even if I wanted to. I felt as if I was at the bottom of the sea, and the pressure of a million liters of water weighed on my body.

Conor’s eyes told me he was scared. “Ash, that’s….” He searched for what to say and how to explain.

“Oh, shit. Was that something I wasn’t supposed to talk about?”

“No, it’s okay,” I said, even though it was so far from that. My brain wanted to jump out of my head. “I guess it was just none of my business. That’s why I never heard of it.”

Shit. I can feel it. It’s just like three years ago.

“So, what’s that about?” I asked, even though I knew I shouldn’t have. Not in front of all of them.

“Nothing worrisome.” It was as if Leo tried to smooth things down without realizing he could make things worse. “When he visited in December, he had trouble with his boyfriend and couldn’t stop talking about how he hoped they would make up again.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Conor had a boyfriend when we met? Why didn’t he tell me that? How could he keep such a vital piece of information from me? No, wait, he mentioned yesterday that he had a fling with someone from his school. But a boyfriend is not a fling. Does that mean that I was part of the end of their relationship? Or… please, no… is this still going on? I mean, it would make sense. We still live 2500 miles apart. So there was no way we could accidentally run into each other.

I pretended to smile and stood up. That wasn’t something my brain was able to process. I had to get out of here before I let my intrusive thoughts win.

I refuse to let history repeat itself. Not here. Not like this.

“Ash, wait.” Conor tried to grab my wrist, but I instantly pulled it away. Leo and Will were watching what was happening while Milo had already tensed up his muscles, one hand on the backrest, ready to push himself up to intervene.

Breathe. And then walk away. Don’t freak out here.

“I’m sorry. I’ll… have to use the restroom,” I lied, pointing behind me.

“Please, let me explain,” Conor’s voice was shaking as if he were only a few seconds away from crying. But this only kept making me angrier.

Why him, of all people? I have to get out of here, or I will explode. I have to approach this with a calmer mind. Maybe there is an explanation for this that I can’t think of. Or maybe not. But…

“I can’t.” Not right now. I'll just regret it later.

Without waiting any further, I hurried into the dancing crowd. Everyone around me was sweating, laughing, and having fun. I crashed into everyone and felt as if I was a bumper car on the loose. But everyone kept moshing into me as if this was a punk rock concert. The glowing balloons on the ceiling danced, too, and I felt like I was about to lose my mind.

I was startled when I suddenly saw the red-haired girl from the kitchen staring at me with fascination. She stood out of the dancing crowd like a rock that promised safety. She had a group of what I assume are her followers dancing around her, everyone trying to gain her attention. But she left the inner circle as soon as she spotted me.

“Hi,” she came so close to my ear that she didn’t have to yell over the loud music.

“I’m sorry, I have to leave,” I replied, trying to rush through some guys on her left. But she grabbed my wrist.

“Just a sec.”

“It’s really a bad time for me.”

“What did Tristan tell you about me that scared you so intensely?" She laughed.

“He… Nothing. I’m sorry. I’m just not interested in getting in any way involved with you and Tristan or these social media things.”

“That’s okay. But give me at least a chance to show you that I’m more than just a crazy Social Media Girl, will you?”

This is so uncomfortable. I just want to leave, but she insists on talking to me.

I tried to wiggle my hand as gently out of her grip as I could. It wouldn't look good if I hurt her in any way. Especially physically.

“You seem stressed out. Do you want to find somewhere quiet and talk? I’m Sari, by the way.”

But since she kept pushing, I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I said I don’t want to!” I screamed at her and pulled my hand away. Several people stopped dancing, and as her entourage watched closely, I could feel a lot of eyes on me right now, along with a couple of smartphones filming us.

“Woah, no need to be so hostile.”

That was too much for me to handle.

I bolted myself through the crowd, and a guy who was with his back to me stumbled into two other girls dancing behind him. All three of them tumbled to the ground.

I knew what this looked like—the muscly quarterback screaming at the popular girl and shoving some innocent bystanders onto the floor. I’ll never get out of this as the good guy. And let’s face it. I’m not. So without explaining anything, I ran.

I have to get out of here.

I darted through the living room and down to the dining area, as this was the fastest way out.

But before I could steal my way through the entrance hall, Tristan stepped in front of me, his head red as a tomato.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Tristan was like a wall. You can’t just easily walk past him when he stands in your way.

“I asked you for one favor, and you crashed the whole party!”

“Fuck you,” I yelled at him. “I told you I was not interested! Why did you still goad me into this?”

“You just don’t know what is good for you! This was meant as a favor, you fucking asshole.”

“Oh well, thank you,” I yelled. “I guess it was an act of selflessness to turn me into a whore so you could gain some followers!”

Tristan jumped at me and pulled me into a headlock. He was heavy but not strong. I freed myself from his armpit and kicked his leg. He stumbled, and I used that opportunity to return the favor. He immediately started dramatically choking, probably because he hoped someone would film this, so he could make himself look like the victim on his platforms. But I didn’t give a fuck at that moment.

“Why the fuck does everyone think they know what is best for me?” I screamed and let go of him for a second. My legs helped fix his body as he fell, and I raised my arm, ready to punch him. He threw his arms in front of his face. I gained momentum, but a firm grip around my wrist kept me from hitting him.

“I warned you,” Milo’s deep voice announced, and before I knew it, I was pulled into a headlock again. A strong one. One that I couldn’t wiggle myself out of even if I tried.

Milo pulled me away from Tristan and made me walk out of the house. I stumbled over my feet as soon as we stepped onto the porch. I managed to push my hands in front of me to protect my face from hitting the ground, but I cut my right hand open on a silver metal railing that surrounded the concrete.

I deserve it. I am not a kind person. My fucking anger is always in my way. I could have just talked calmly to Conor, but no. I could have walked away from that girl, but no. There was no need to beat Tristan up, even when he was selfish. But no.

Milo grabbed my arms and dragged me away from the house onto the lawn. I didn’t fight back. It was useless anyway. I had already lost every chance I had of returning things to normal anyway. I ruined that. Because that’s what I always do…

Milo dragged me down the sidewalk, at least three houses away, so I couldn’t run back in and hurt more people. Or maybe so no one could take a video of what he was about to do to me. He snorted with anger, doubtlessly thinking about a thousand things he wanted to scream at me before he would finally kill me.

We stopped in front of a villa, but he didn’t let go of me. A black steel gate with flower ornaments blocked our way. As I searched for the tall building on top of a slight hill, I recognized that it was, in fact, Milo’s place. Four pillars frame the main entrance. He punched some numbers into a keypad door lock. With a gentle buzz, the electric gate swung open. He dragged me into their driveway, and as the door closed behind us, he squatted down to me, turning me so I faced the earthy-colored bricks underneath me and twisting my arm behind my back.

Kill me, please. Or at least beat me up hard. I won’t fight back. I deserve it.

“Do it,” I ordered him.

“What?” He snorted.

“Hit me.”

“I have no intention of sinking to your level.”

“Hit me!" I screamed so the whole neighborhood could hear it. He fastened his grip around my wrist and pushed me closer to the ground. But the angry groan I let out didn't help much either. He just held me and refused to use any violence against me.

Why can’t he just do it? It is what I deserve.

Without wanting to, tears rolled down my face. “Please, hit me,” I cried. “I deserve it.” I felt the cold of the stone bricks creeping up my body.

But instead of feeling his fist in my face, I only felt him loosening his grip slightly.

“Ash, what the fuck is wrong with you?”