Jennifer left me at a rest stop because her new boyfriend didn’t like my crying.

“I haven’t decided yet.” The words just come out like that, flat and uninterested. Almost bored. Jennifer stares at me, and I stare right back. “Maybe I’ll have them all?” She laughs, a little nervously, but it falls flat, and the room is completely silent. “Thanks for the balloons.” Miranda creeps closer, like she can sense I need support, and I hand the helium-filled bouquet over to her. “Have a root beer float or something and stay awhile.”

I turn away, my face flushed, my hands shaking, and I end up looking right at Tristan.

He stares down at me like he’s confused and doesn’t know what to do with me.

“This is the part where you say happy birthday,” I whisper, and something in that hard expression of his softens slightly.

“Happy birthday. I know what it’s like to have a shitty parent; don’t let them rain on your parade.”

“Excuse you, young man,” Jennifer says, but I’m smiling and ignoring her. I can hear Charlie mumble as he drags her away toward the dining area.

Tristan reaches into his pocket, and comes out with that damn necklace again. That same fucking necklace. He lifts it up in question, and I turn, letting him hook it around my neck. As he leans in, his lips brush my ear, and I shiver.

“I meant what I said when I went through those cards: yours was the only one I didn’t hate.” He hooks the clasp, and lets go, stepping back as I reach up to play with the double roses. The journey of this necklace reminds me of my relationship with Tristan, this strange back and forth that makes my mouth dry, my chest ache. When I look at him, I yearn.

Yearn.

I just said yearn.

Before I can think too hard about that, I turn to Zayd, ignoring Lizzie’s amber gaze on me. Part of me wonders if I should give the necklace back yet again, surrender Tristan to Lizzie’s embrace. She really seems interested in him …

“Did I fool you, by giving you the earrings early?” Zayd asks, grinning at me as he twists his now bright orange hair into little gelled spikes. The color is so vibrant and crazy, but it suits him. Hell, I’m not sure there’s a color in the world that wouldn’t suit him.

“Oh, I was so fooled,” I say, giving him a hug, too. The way he makes me feel, the way they all make me feel … Third year at Burberry Prep is going to be a hormonal mess. I just know it. Zayd holds me for a long time, longer than most friends would, and Miranda clears her throat rudely next to us.

We separate, and my eyes lock immediately with Creed’s icy blue ones.

“Marnye.” He both looks and sounds a little … pissed off. “Happy seventeenth.”

“I started to think about you … as mine.”

I wet my suddenly dry lips and try to decide if a hug is in order. I didn’t hug Tristan, but I hugged everybody else. Creed and I just stare at each other. Finally, because I just can’t take the freaking tension, I throw my arms around him and give a big squeeze. I let go before he gets a chance to return the gesture, and find that his normally droopy bedroom eyes have widened to blue saucers.

“Let’s start the fun and games!” I choke out, far too cheerfully to be believed by anyone, and then nearly break my ankle on my way down the steps. Zack steadies me with a big, warm hand on my shoulder, and we all fan out on the bench seat while Miranda and Andrew plug in everyone’s name. One of the employees comes over to take our drink orders, and I end up with a chocolate milkshake covered in rainbow sprinkles and way too many maraschino cherries.

There’s a bit of awkwardness as we all settle in together. We’re not exactly the best of friends, and this is a major adjustment.

I’m essentially hanging out with four of my bullies. Five, if you count Lizzie for making that bet.

“Why don’t you guys make an Infinity Club bet over bowling?” I joke, and I swear, everyone’s head whips right over to me. “Not an appropriate joke, huh?” I chuckle, but I’m the only one. “I could tell you about the history of this building? How it was built in 1892 as a brothel, funded by a rich railroad baron because he thought if the miners coming in for the gold rush had female company, they’d be less violent …”

“You can make jokes about the Infinity Club if you want,” Zack says fiercely, watching as I sip my milkshake from the red and white striped straw. “You were hurt by it the most. And I already told you: it’s sexy as hell when you talk historical facts.” He grins at me, and then whips his varsity jacket off his broad shoulders, settling the skin-warmed fabric over mine.

My heart twists into a knot, and then dies from all the feels.

My cheeks flush red as I reach up to pinch the coat closed around me, feeling like a teen from the fifties or something, drinking a milkshake from the soda fountain and wearing her boyfriend’s varsity jacket in the bowling alley.

Not that Zack’s my boyfriend or anything.

I mean, he hasn’t asked.

And even if he did, I don’t know if I’d say yes.

Shit, it smells like him, too, I think, doing my best to hold back a groan. Last time I wore his hoodie, I almost died from the scent. Sporty, but earthy, too, like musk and cedar.

“Okay, lover boy,” Windsor says as he herds Zack toward the rack of bowling balls behind us. “Pick one and let’s get this game going. I quite enjoy kicking ass, even when there aren’t any stakes involved.” He grins, and I think about what he did to Ben. I mean, Ben deserved it, but still. I don’t think Windsor’s joking right now.

The game starts off with a bang, and I’m surprised to see that both Zack and Windsor are damn good bowlers. Fortunately, everyone else is mediocre … and Tristan sucks. Like, he’s by far the worst.

“Something you’re not good at?” I ask with surprise as he gets another gutter ball and narrows those beautiful gray eyes of his on the lane. He glances over at me, but I’m grinning. “That’s a shocker.”

“I’ve never bowled before,” he says, and the grin falls right off my face. Now I’m just gaping at him.

“You’ve never been bowling before?” I choke out, and then I find myself smiling again. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right? You’ll get better at it.” Tristan stares at me like I’m insane, and then steps back so Lizzie can take her turn.

Her engagement ring sparkles as she picks up a gold colored ball.

“You’ve never let loose enough to try something like bowling,” she says, stepping forward, and prepping for her throw. She gives a slight smile before exhaling, focusing those amber eyes on the pins, and then releasing the ball like a pro. “Strike!” Lizzie squeals and bounces up and down, throwing her arms around Tristan’s neck.

He looks like he’s just been gut-punched.

I feel like I’ve just been gut-punched.

Lizzie pulls back, blushing, and then pushes some dark curls away from her face. She glances my way, but I pretend not to notice. Inside, my stomach is all twisted up with angst.

“Letting loose isn’t in my vocabulary,” Tristan says finally, and I cringe slightly.

Having sex in a public bathroom sure seemed like letting loose, I think sourly, not sure why I’m suddenly so worked up about it. Or in a janitor’s closet on the first day of school. My attention drifts slightly to Lizzie as Zayd makes his way up to the lane. Did she and Tristan ever … and if they did, do I really want to know?

Her amber eyes meet mine, and I flush.

“Ah, fuck a bunch of hairy goat balls,” Zayd groans as his ball bounces into the next lane. He slides his palms over his face while I laugh, smearing his eyeliner just enough that it gives him that sexy rocker look. “This game is harder than it looks.”

“That’s an interesting curse,” I say with a small laugh, covering my mouth and trying to ignore the anxiety that the Lizzie/Tristan thing gives me. She’s retreated back to the bench to sit next to Zack, but the King of Burberry Prep is still staring at me with those unnerving gray eyes of his. They’re the color of gravestones, aged and worn beyond his seventeen years, and full of so much more emotion than the stone they’re made of it.

“Yeah, well, I’m an artist,” Zayd purrs, and there’s just something about the way he talks that tells the whole world that he can sing. One day, I’d like to see him live. I bet he’s a real treat to watch. For a split-second there, I feel a sting of guilt over what I did. But then I remember the trophy, and how I wore his red dress, and then …

I exhale and shake out my hands.

I’m working on forgiveness here, not grudges. What’s the point of holding one? Take the actions you need to take, and move on. These blue-blooded Idols needed to learn a lesson; I taught it to them. Now, I let it go.

The girls, on the other hand, are a whole different story.

School starts in just a few days; I have to be ready.