“Why don’t you just have a cookie?” he says, handing me one.

I look up at him and Dallas. “I was going to say it just doesn’t get any better than this, but we’d need rum in our cokes for that.”

Dallas’ phone buzzes. “Pizza’s here. I’ll go get it.”

Dawson pops off the bed. “And I’ll go get some rum.” But then he sits back down on the corner of the bed and says, “As usual, I probably shouldn’t do this, but I am.”

Normally, I would say And then he kissed me, but he just kisses the side of my cheek. Which is good because I can’t kiss anyone else. I’m pretty sure Aiden ruined my lips forever.

Dallas comes back with the pizza delivery and we spread out all the food and snacks.

I chow down. I don’t care that I’m going to be in St. Croix in a bikini in a few days.

St. Croix. I’m such an idiot. Why did I invite Aiden and Peyton?

Obviously, they are officially uninvited.

I plop on the bed. Depressed.

And feeling like I just ate a moose.

Riley and Ace come walking in.

“It smells good in here,” Riley says, grabbing a piece of pizza, folding it in half, and shoving it in his mouth.

“Riley! Why did you do that? What did the dean say?”

He chews, then says, “He yelled at me. Told me I should be suspended for three days. Called my parents—who also yelled at me—and then brought Aiden in to talk about it. His nose is broken. The dean asked if he wanted to press charges. Aiden said no. Said he deserved it. That he hoped I wouldn’t get in trouble because the team needs me for the playoffs.”

“He said he deserved it?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.” I put my hand across my face and try not to cry.

I realize that I had still been holding out hope that she was lying to me. My heart didn’t believe he would do such a thing.

But if Aiden said he deserved it that means everything she said was true.

“So did you get suspended?” I ask.

“Coach says I have to run about a million laps and do some shit jobs for him, but I’m not suspended.”

I leap off the bed, throw myself into his arms, and start crying again.

He hugs me tightly and whispers, “Baby, I told you. Anybody messes with you, they have to answer to me.”

“Aiden hated that you call me baby.”

“I don’t think I care.”

“You deserve some rum and coke.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Riley?” I whisper.

“What?”

“Is Aiden okay?”

He pulls me out into the hallway. “He’ll be fine.”

“I appreciate you standing up for me, but you shouldn’t have done that. You could’ve gotten suspended or expelled.”

“Look, I need to go talk to Ariela. She’s upset.”

“Because you punched Aiden?”

“Yeah, she thinks it’s because I like you.”

“But you don’t.”

“You and I know that, but she doesn’t. I need to explain to her that I didn’t do it because of you.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. Aiden made me a promise and he broke it. That’s why I punched him.”

“What promise?”

Riley shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s just say we were both wrong about Aiden.” He gives me a kiss on the cheek. “You going to be okay while I go?”

“Yeah. The pity party is sorta keeping my mind off things.”

I go back into their room and sit on the bed.

The boys go on and on about Aiden getting punched. How he hit the ground.

I can’t help it. I swore I wasn’t going to look at my phone, but I do.

There’s nothing.

So I message Peyton.

Me:  I’m sure by now you heard what your brother did. I hope you understand that I have to un-invite you to St. Croix. I’m not mad at you, but your stupid smile is just like his and I can’t bear to look at it all break. I’m sorry. I hope this doesn’t affect our friendship.

Peyton:  What happened? Really.

Me:  We got in a fight last night. I told him I was done and walked out. But I didn’t mean done, like over. I was just done fighting. I was planning to apologize this morning, but Chelsea was waiting for me outside my dorm. She told me they hooked up last night and are back together. I was really upset and ran to Riley’s room, crying. He went and punched Aiden. 

Peyton:  I understand about the trip. Are you still going?

Me:  Yeah. I need to get away.

Peyton:  All alone?

Me:  Definitely.

The guys eat all the pizza and then someone goes and gets a bunch of cupcakes from the café. They hang out, laugh, and talk about the big playoff game this week.

I go sit down next to Jake, who just joined us.

“Pity party, huh?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

I don’t want to talk about Aiden, so I grab a cupcake, pretend I’m going to eat it but, instead, I shove it in his face.

I giggle because he has frosting everywhere.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now, Monroe,” he says, chasing me down the hall.

I hide behind Dawson, who is coming back with more cups.

“Save me!” I scream.

Jake tries to jump around him, waving a cupcake at me. He sticks the cupcake up to Dawson’s face, getting a little frosting on it.

“You’re on your own,” Dawson tells me.

I don’t want to be on my own, so I throw my arms around Dawson’s neck, jump on his back, and hide my face behind his neck.

“She’s a devious one,” Jake says.

Dawson swings his body around, trying to get me off his back.

It doesn’t work.

Until they start working together.

Jake hands Dawson the cupcake. I try to push his hand forward so that it slams into his face, but Jake grabs me around the waist and tries to pull me off Dawson.

Dawson reaches around with his free hand and starts tickling my side.

I giggle, scream, and lose my grip around his neck.

Jake was pulling hard, but I don’t think he was prepared for the shift in momentum because he falls onto his back with me landing squarely on top of him.

Dawson turns around and pounces on us both.

“This is a new outfit! Don’t get frosting on it!”

“Tough shit,” he yells as he straddles us both.

While Jake struggles under our combined weight, Dawson grins and shoves icing onto our faces. Then he takes the cake part and crumbles it into our hair.

Jake yells, “As soon as I get up, you’re dead!”

Dawson doesn’t let him up; instead, he leans down and starts licking frosting off my cheek.

“Oh, Dawes, you’re making me hard,” Jake says jokingly, which causes Dawson to stick a frosting-covered tongue out at Jake.

I laugh, turn my head away from his tongue, and notice feet.

Jake goes, “Oh, hey, Aiden. How you feeling, buddy?”

I freeze.

I’m thinking this might look bad. Me in the middle of a boy sandwich.

Being licked.

Dawson stops screwing around and quickly pulls Jake and me up. We all stand there awkwardly.

I take a second to really look at Aiden.

His face—his beautiful, perfectly-sculpted face—is swollen and bruised. There are red crusty bits around the bottom of his nostrils. His skin, which is usually radiant, has a slightly gray tinge to it. It screams of hangover and pain.

Aiden stares at me.

Me, who was just lying on the ground sandwiched between two boys and getting frosting licked off her face.

Me, who wants to reach out and make the bruising go away.

Me, who wants to kiss away his pain.

There is more awkward silence, then finally Aiden states, “I’ve felt better.”

He slumps his shoulders and continues toward the stairs.

“Well, that was awkward,” Dawson says once he’s gone.

“He looked really bad. I feel really bad,” I confess.

“Why? He deserved it.”

“Did he?” Jake asks. “Regardless of what happened with Chelsea, you weren’t going out. You upset him. He got drunk. Then he goes to practice hung over and gets his nose broken by a friend.”

Dawson says, “He did look bad. Do you want to go talk to him?”