I side-step the partygoers and wander over to a hollow log that sits overlooking the lake. I feel stupid for coming here, and regret sits heavy on my chest. I’ve been excluded for so long, I just wanted to know what it was like to fit in.

However, I should have known better. You don’t need to experience a root canal to know it will suck, and the same applies here.

“Hey,” a deep voice says behind me.

When I cock my head, I see Ken Ruckman standing there.

“Hey.”

Taking a step forward, he gestures to the log I’m sitting on with the beer bottle in his hand. “Can I sit?”

I move over a little to give him and his broad shoulders some room.

Although I probably should have given him more, because he sits a little closer than I expected.

Eyes trained on the lake, he takes a swig out of his beer bottle. “I guess this isn’t really your scene, huh?”

I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been invited here before. But so far? It blows.

“That obvious?” I mutter instead, wishing I had something more clever or interesting to say.

Not that I’m looking to impress Ken. Even though he is impossibly cute with his wavy light brown hair, honey eyes, and the red and black varsity football jacket he’s sporting.

“Kind of.” He shrugs his big shoulders. “Then again, you’ve never been one to follow the crowd.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to remark that the crowd never wanted me around, but then he adds, “It’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

I can’t help but laugh, because while Ken might not be the nucleus of the popular clique, he’s definitely a part of it.

“Wow. That’s…” I shake my head, letting my words fall by the wayside.

“What?” he prompts, turning those honey eyes on me.

I decide to be honest. “It’s just kind of weird you’d admire me for not fitting in when it’s blatant that you do.”

If my statement offended him, he doesn’t show it. “Survival of the fittest.”

When I give him a look, he adds, “It’s easier to adapt to your environment instead of going against it.” He motions to me with his beer and a ghost of a grin touches his lips. “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a girl who can fight, though.”

A gust of wind rustles through the trees and I fight back a shiver, the tiny hairs on my arms standing on end.

Ken shucks off his jacket and hands it to me. “Here.”

Glancing around, I mock gasp. “Are you sure? Letting me wear your jacket might ruin your probability of survival and all.”

At that, he laughs. “I’ll take my chances.”

I sling his jacket around my shoulders and immediately the potent scent of Axe body spray invades my nostrils.

Generic teenage boy odor aside, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying our little exchange.

I care about Leo, but we don’t get to attend high school parties or sit close and flirt in the public eye. Not only because of our age difference, but the fact that he’s married.

What we have will always be behind closed doors.

Concealed from the world.

And even though every adult I’ve met always remarks that I’m wise and mature beyond my years—which is probably a big part of why Leo and I do work—it’s kind of nice talking to someone who doesn’t make me feel guilty or like I have to look over my shoulder constantly because what we’re doing is wrong.

It’s nice feeling normal for once.

“So, what colleges have you applied to?” I question, not wanting the conversation to turn stale.

Ken grins. “I actually just found out I’m getting a full ride to play football at Notre Dame.” He takes another swig from his beer bottle. “You?”

I fight the rush of jealousy flickering in my chest. I’ve applied to tons of colleges, but I haven’t had any responses.

It’s the end of January, so I figured it was still too early to receive an acceptance letter.

Evidently not.

“I haven’t heard back from any yet,” I mumble, fighting the flush of embarrassment. “But congrats on getting into Notre Dame. That’s awesome.”

“Thanks.” He pins me with a reassuring look. “Don’t worry. There’s still plenty of time.” He smiles. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I only got in because it’s my dad’s alma mater and he’s a football legend there.”

I know he’s only saying this to make me feel better, but it has the opposite effect.

“Right.”

He moves closer. So close our thighs brush. “They’d be stupid not to accept you. You’re smart and determined…” His voice dips ever so slightly, “Beautiful.”

If I had any doubt Ken was flirting with me before, I don’t now.

“But let’s not talk about school anymore.” He points his beer at me, gesturing for me to take a sip. “Tonight should be about letting loose and having fun, yeah?”

I fight the urge to tell him I don’t drink, but I don’t want to come off as a party pooper—or a prude—so I take a tentative sip. “Yeah.”

He smiles. “Atta, girl—”

Whatever he was going to say next is cut short when Staci and Traci stride over.

“Well, don’t you two look cozy,” Staci chirps.

Ken slings an arm around my shoulders. “Aspen’s decided to have some fun tonight.”

Traci’s face lights up. “Finally.” After taking a sip from her red solo cup, she hands it to me. “You have to try this. It’s so good.”

A big part of me wants to decline—because I’ve never been one to give in to any kind of peer pressure—but I also want to let loose and have a good time.

The drink is so strong it burns going down my throat.

“What is this?” I ask, trying to suppress the impulse to cough.

Staci waggles her perfect eyebrows. “Jungle juice.”

I go to hand it back to her, but she declines. “Nope. That one is all yours.” She tilts her head in the direction of the bonfire. “I’m gonna go grab another cup.”

Before I can utter another word, she grabs Traci’s hand and they wander off.

“Is it good?” Ken questions.

“It’s…strong.” I slip off his jacket because I’m feeling pretty warm now. “Want some?”