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smthing came up. can Mom get you?

I didn’t wait for a response. Outside, Tyler’s headlights cut through the winter dark, and his horn gave two short, impatient honks. I hurried out to meet him.

Tyler’s car smelled like weed, cheap cologne, and Black Ice Little Trees air freshener, but it was a BMW and he was rich and hot and popular, so I assumed that’s how it was supposed to smell. Besides, it wouldn’t be veryRich, Hot, Popular Girlof me to complain about it.

He pulled away from the curb before I’d even clicked my seatbelt, one hand already migrating to my knee.

“Shiiit, Rae, you really do look different,” he said, glancing over with that lazy half-smile that had haunted my high school fantasies. “Better. Gawdamn. College looks good on you.”

I was supposed to feel flattered. I knew enough to know that. Butdifferentandbettermeant I’d beenworsebefore, didn’t it?

Not that I needed reminding of that fact. Tyler had looked right through me for four straight years because I hadn’t been worth seeing.

“Thanks,” I said anyway, because that’s what rich, hot, popular girls do.

His hand edged a little higher. When he passed over a tear in my ripped jeans, I felt his clammy palm on my bare skin. “So I was thinking,” he said. “My parents are in Aspen through New Year’s. We could skip the whole dinner-and-bowling-alley thing and head back to my place instead?”

I cringed and hesitated. This wasn’t how I’d pictured tonight going. There was supposed to be a real date, some funconversation, a reallove is in the airkind of vibe before anything happened.

But insisting on that stuff had gotten me nowhere all through high school. Would a rich, hot, popular girl care about cramming shitty fettuccine down her throat before sealing the deal?

No, she would not. She’d be down with whatever.

“Sure,” I heard myself say. “Sounds fun.”

He grinned. “Sick.”

Tyler’s bedroom was bonkers. I was fairly sure the flat screen TV mounted on the wall was bigger than the bed I slept on at home. He couldn’t have cared less about any of the stuff in his house, though. He threw his keys at a bowl and missed, kicked his shoes off without looking where they landed, and sauntered over to his parents’ bar cart as if he had every right to be there.

He splashed some Grey Goose into a coffee mug and handed it to me, keeping the rest of the bottle for himself. I took it and had a tentative sip, even though I didn’t really drink. Rich, hot, popular girls drank Grey Goose without making faces, so I drank Grey Goose without making a face.

Tyler slugged back what had to be five or six shots’ worth straight from the neck of the bottle. From there, things got a little hazy. Somehow, we ended up on his bed.

I wasn’t entirely sure how we got there. One minute, we were standing by the window; then his mouth was on mine and we were horizontal.

He wasn’t a bad kisser, but he wasn’t a good one, either. His lips were thin and chapped, but at least he didn’t choke me with his tongue. His hand slid under my henley. His fingers were coldand slightly damp against my stomach. I flinched before I could stop myself.

Relax,I scolded myself.This is what you wanted. This is the whole freaking point.

But there was a voice in my head that kept whispering,This doesn’t feel right.

I told that voice to shove it and focused on the kissing again. He was palming my boobs through my shirt, a little too hard, but I pretended my wince was more of a moan. He was really hot, after all, and everyone wanted to sleep with him. If it didn’t feel good, it was probablymedoing something wrong, not him.

My phone started vibrating on the nightstand. It stopped, then started again.

Tyler groaned against my mouth. “Ignore it.”

I did. His weight pressed me back into the pillows, and his hands were fumbling with the button of my jeans. When I raised my hips, he gave up on the button and just yanked them down, along with my underwear. The cold air hit my bare skin and I shivered.

Then my phone rang again.

This time, it wouldn’t stop. It just keptgoing, vibrating so hard it started to migrate across the nightstand toward the edge.

Tyler pulled back with an irritated huff. “Jesus Christ, turn it off.”

I looked up to see that he’d shed his pants at some point and was rolling a condom onto his erect penis. I felt hot and tight all over suddenly, but also goosebumpy and cold.

Shaking away the negative thoughts, I reached for my phone. The screen was a blur of notifications. One missed call after another. What the hell?