Unmasked

Finn's POV

I was taking out a girl. Not just any girl, the Ice Queen herself. I still had no idea how that happened or why I hadn't flat out turned her down. Instead, I'd gone along with the entire shebang. Now, I was stressing out. The worst part was… I was stressing out about things guys shouldn't, right? How many guys worried about what to wear on a date? A false date. I couldn't wrap my head around it. What would Thomas and Ava think when they saw us arriving together—in the same freaking car?

I really needed to stop overthinking this. I was just picking her up. She'd said it herself, she'd acted the way she had to get her family off her back. Pft, like Valerie ever told the truth about what she meant and why she did things. Like avoiding me all week long... That chick was just too weird.

Yeah, but you're going out with her.

Groaning under my breath, I stepped toward my drawers pulling open the middle one. I should wear a shirt. It was hot out, summer was upon us and all, plus it was casual and classy. I hoped. Rummaging my shirt collection, I decided on a white one. Grabbing clean jeans out of my closet, I headed outside for the bathroom. I needed a shower first.

The minute I stepped out into the living room/kitchen my sister's head perked up, her eyes left one of her favorite TV shows to pin me. Her lips curved into a sneaky grin. Oh, no.

"Finn's going on a date!" How the hell did she know that? Was it like… women's intuition or their sixth sense? Damn.

Mom turned away from the fridge, eyes blinking behind her rectangular glasses. Her mouth formed an O before smiling widely. For the love of…

"He is? With who?"

"Shut up, April." I threw a deadly glare April's way, but maybe because she was my little sister, she didn't look threatened. At all.

"Va-le-rie," April sung happily. "Hey, wait! This reminds me of that song… Why don't you come on over, stop making a fool out of me—won't you come on over... Valerie! Ooh, won't you come on over…"

April kept on singing Amy Winehouse's' annoying song as I threw the bathroom's door closed. I could hear them sniggering up until I climbed into the shower and turned on the water. Couldn't I do anything in this house without it becoming worldwide news? Fifteen minutes later, I was out of the bathroom, a towel around my waist and dripping blond hair. This time, when I crossed the distance between the bathroom to my room, April kept her eyes on the show and Mom was nowhere in sight. It only took about ten minutes for my hair to dry—well, it was damp. I slipped on a fresh pair of boxers, followed with jeans, socks and a black pair of Vans. Next, I slipped on my white shirt. I buttoned it… I stopped, leaving the first two undone. That looked… hum… better.

It was almost seven thirty. I told Valerie I'd swing by her house around eight, also told her not to leave me hanging, so I should get there on time. If I were the one showing up late there would be hell to pay.

I grabbed my denim jacket off a hanger, putting it on. Grabbed my wallet, phone and keys and was out the door… April was off the couch before I could make it three inches towards the loft's door. Her hands lunged for my shirt.

I jerked.

"What are you…?" she popped two more buttons.

"I'm making sure you actually look sexy. It's a date, Finn. Not a trip to church, show some skin." Okay. This was wrong on so many levels. I hoped when she went out with friends there was no skin-showing. "Girls like confidence, you know?"

"Please stop talking…" I murmured, mortified. Soon enough, she'd be having the 'talk' with me. "It's not a date. I'm just picking her up—how do you even know about this?"

"Easy," she declared, taking a step back after straightening out my shirt. "You called Thomas asking for Valerie's number. I heard it." I was going to stop making phone calls inside my own living room. "By the way, I don't think he bought the 'I'm just giving her a ride to the bar' excuse, either."

"Ah," I sighed, tossing waves out of my eyes. "Who cares? I'm out of here, don't wait up."

"And you say it's not a date—" I shut the apartment door cutting off my little sister's annoying teasing.

In three minutes I was inside my car, leaving for Valerie's house on Manhattan. I'd texted earlier so she'd send me the address since I'd only been there once—with her giving me directions. Following my phone's GPS, I made it under twenty minutes. Just on time. I sent a quick text letting her know she could come down.

I leaned back, drumming my fingers along the steering wheel. I wasn't nervous, I thought as I spied a glance at her building's entrance. Nope, there wasn't a nervous bone in my body. Why would there be? We didn't even like each other. I combed fingers through my hair making sure it stayed off my forehead. I dove for the radio next. I kept searching for a good station, but there was nothing I liked. I glanced at the door again, seeing it opening out of an eye corner.

I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting Valerie to be dressed like for a date that wasn't an actual date… I might have been expecting her to come out wearing an expensive dress. But definitely not a checkered shirt. It was wide open and underneath, was a white t-shirt exposing a thin slice of her stomach. It ended just above her bellybutton. Skinny jeans hugged her hips tightly. Valerie walked down the stairs spotting my car immediately. It wasn't hard, it was a red Chevy.

I pinned my eyes on Valerie's face. It was better than ogling her hips, swaying deliciously side-to-side. Her lips were red, blood red. Same color as my car. Her ebony hair cascaded to the middle of her back in untamed waves.

Valerie wrenched the passenger's door open, dropping a brown bag and jacket inside before hopping in.

"Just on time, Matthews. What a nice surprise." She was shifting her things into the backseat and grabbing the seatbelt. She hadn't really looked at me yet—once she was buckled in, she turned, facing me. Her lips pursed for a second, her gaze falling on the expanse of chest April had made sure to expose. A mad blush started at her neck, climbing all the way to her cheeks. Valerie lifted those twinkly eyes to my face. "You look… nice."

"Thanks," I said quickly. "You look beautiful." My eyes widened a little when I heard what I said—but it was too late to take back, and damn, it was effing true. Clearing my throat I motioned towards her shirt, "Red looks good on you."

Valerie settled into her seat, looking ahead with pinched lips. Until she just smiled—a tiny smile—if I didn't know her any better, I'd call it a shy smile. Her eyes locked with mine. Again.

"Thank you," I waited for a string of insults. None came. Not a one. Okay… "So where's this bar we're going to?"

Snapping out of my day-dream I reached for the key, turning it. My baby purred like a Panther in its prime. Loved this car.

"It's a bar near Central Park called Paradox." I began maneuvering us out.

"I don't think I've ever been there. Not that I've been to many bars, actually. I usually go to house parties… Which do you like better?" my shoulders stiffened at 'house parties'. I hadn't thrown or gone to one since the whole fiasco three years ago. Valerie mistook my silence for inexperience. "Don't tell me you were never invited to a house party?"

"Of course I was," I rolled my eyes feeling some anxiety melting away. "I like bars, though. Parties usually end up with someone puking all over the carpet, or with broken stuff and you have to worry about cops showing up because the music's too loud…" I shrugged meekly, doing a left with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the door.

The next couple of minutes were filled with heavy silence. Not the kind I'd call comfortable. When I glanced over at Valerie, she had her hands clasped between her knees. Her entire posture reminded me of a strung wire.

I licked my lips picking around my brain for something to say. Something that wouldn't turn into a full-fledged argument between us. Asking her why she'd been avoiding me like a leper for the last week was a no-no. Bringing up our date but not-date… Yeah, better hold off on that, too.

"You can change the station if you want. I don't know what you're into, so…"

Valerie took my advice, reaching forward, glad to have something to do. I felt a little proud of myself. Good on you, Finn, I thought. I wasn't sure why I cared if she had a good time—I didn't care what Valerie Monet thought about my dating skills. Right? I was surprised when she stopped on a station playing songs from the old days, sixties and seventies.

"You're a fan of the classics?"

She stretched her legs as far as possible, crossing them at the ankles.

"Yeah. It's because of my Mom. She loved The Beatles, David Bowie, The Who—you catch my drift. I guess it grew on me, too."

"Your Mother has good taste."

A churning emotion flashed in her bronze eyes. Valerie looked away, out the window. Shit, what did I say?

"She had good taste," she said quietly. "My Mom passed away… I was nine, so… it was a long time ago."

Shit. I'd thought… back at graduation…

"I thought that lady today—I thought…"

"I know. It's okay, no one told you who she was. She's my step-mom—Maria. She's really nice, I definitely hit the jackpot with her. Dad and her got married about five months back." She combed hair behind an ear, side-glancing me. A soft look lingered on her face, it threw me back days ago. The day her painting was destroyed. She'd looked vulnerable, like someone you wanted to cuddle—like a fluffy rabbit. "What sort of music do you like?"

Bewildered with Valerie's hidden softness and my incredibly strange reaction to it, I racked my brain for the answer. Something so simple suddenly felt like the worst math problem on Earth. What was this girl doing to me? Whatever it was, I wasn't liking the side effects.

"Rock, alternative and sometimes—because I'm forced to listen—pop."

Her dark eyebrows perked elegantly.

"You're forced?"

"April—my little sister—has the worst taste in music."

"How bad are talking?"

"Justin Bieber bad," Valerie burst into laughter. Her eyes were laughing as she covered her mouth, shaking her head. "Do you feel my pain? She was completely obsessed with that 'Baby' song and made me listen to it—scratch that, she made everyone at our house listen. She'd turn the stereo in the living room all the way up. It drove Mom insane. Don't even get me started on Dad… I think he forbid her from playing that song when he was home." I shook my head pretending to shiver. "Those were dark times at the Matthews household."

"I believe you. I was never into JB. But hey, taste isn't accounted for, right?"

"Guess not," I snickered wondering how April would feel about Valerie now. "You just earned some brownie points with me."

She looked at me doubtfully.

"Really? Because I don't like annoying pop songs?"

"Pretty much."

"Wow, you're easy to please, Finn." My heart skipped a beat. A small one. But I felt it—like it jumped in my chest or something equally impossible. I liked how my name rolled off her tongue. "You know, you're supposed to buy flowers on a first date."

Oh, here we go, I thought starkly.

"Who the hell made up such a stupid rule? Secondly, I thought you said this wasn't a date."

"It's not a stupid rule. It's what gentleman's do, they buy flowers or chocolates. And I thought you wanted this to be a date?" her voice wasn't soft now. It was demanding. Hello, Queen. "You were the one who walked away saying you'd pick me up at eight. I was going to call it off."

"Oh, really?" Valerie lifted her shoulders in a cold, wordless gesture. "Why didn't you just cancel when I called asking for directions? Plenty of opportunities to call this off, Valerie."

"Because it's rude to cancel things, ass."

I sputtered a chuckle. She was going in circles.

"Did you just call me an ass?"

"Do you need me to spell it out for you? I thought you had a big know-it-all brain."

"I'm just really aces at math." I threw out there. Just because. "Can you stop denying you wanted a date?" her face was red—getting redder than her lipstick. I could stop poking at her, but riling her up was giving me some sick satisfaction.

She slapped her knees in a fed up gesture.

"Stop the car. Now."

"Are you serious? I thought you were an Ice Queen, not a Drama Queen."

"I'm very versatile, Finn." I'd say. "Stop the car so I can get out."

"Don't you want to try and jump out? Maybe roll down the window and pull yourself out?"

Her hand fell on the door handle flaring my spidey-sense. I hit the safety lock on the doors. Valerie's eyes swung into mine like a wrecking ball.

"What? I don't know how sane you are. For all I know you might actually jump just to win this temper tantrum."

She leaned back with a oomph. It became obvious I was getting the silent treatment, I reached out cranking up the volume. The next thirty something minutes were sluggish, we caught dozens of red lights, not to mention a huge traffic jam. It was Friday night, everyone wanted to party. I had to park my car in an underground parking lot. Valerie slammed the door earning a disapproving glare.

"It's just a car." She stated dryly. She got her stuff from the back, putting on her jacket and slinging her bag's strap over a shoulder.

"It's not just a car. It's been in my family for a long time. It was my Dad's, my brother's and now it's mine."

"Fine," she gave me a cheeky smile. "It's a really old car."

A vein popped on my forehead.

"I was going to say: it has sentimental value." I locked up my sweet ride, then went around it to face Valerie head-on. "I don't expect you to understand what that means. When you have money things lose their value, they stop being special because you don't have to work for them."

"Oh my... That is so racist."

"Racist? I'm not—"

"Yes! You're saying everyone who has money is the same. That's such a pigheaded view on people. I mean... Is that what you think of Thomas?"

I frowned, "No, he's different..."

"Why? Because he's your friend?" She interjected, crossing her arms giving me a pointed look.

"Well... yeah. Trip got a job even though he could just use his trust fund or ask his Dad for cash."

"He's different because you know him, Finn." My jaw muscles flexed as I kept my pie-hole shut. She was making valid arguments now. Flustered, Valerie shifted her weight lifting her hands in annoyance. "Whatever, let's get going."

I made the wise choice of shutting the hell up. We walked up the stairs and found ourselves walking down a crowded street. All sorts of people walked on by, including a couple. I got hung up on their hand-holding. I glanced at my right hand, swaying freely as I walked. Valerie's left hand was curled on her bag's strap.

No hand holding for us. I nearly tripped myself. Since when did I want to hold her hand? To make sure my hand didn't come alive and snatch Queen Bee's hand, I stuffed both of them in my jean's pockets. There, crisis averted.

Paradox was across Central Park's West entrance. I'd been here the first time for Trip's B-day. Sometimes he invited me and another friend of his—Gabriel—to hang out. I only came on Fridays. Saturday nights were taken off the calendar thanks to anger management meetings. Yippie.

A bright neon sign in blue and green called out attention. The bar wasn't swanky, definitely not something Valerie would waltz into, I think. Because like she'd pointed out moments earlier, not everyone was the same. Thomas' family was loaded and he wasn't some spoiled brat who thought he could do anything and everything because of it. Unlike Christian Freight. I pushed open the bar's door, holding it for my not-date. She pretended I hadn't done her the generosity...

My eyes narrowed. Valerie walked in front of me looking okay with the whole scenario. I couldn't focus on her feelings for long, not when her jeans were hugging her butt like a second skin.

I scolded my face into a blank canvas. Heat was rushing everywhere—a intimate part of me twitched. Make that my entire body was hot.

We found Trip and Ava together—shocker. They were sitting in a lounge couch. Trip's arm was thrown over the backseat, his eyes branded on Ava's face as she chatted away, smiling. They weren't alone, Thomas' friend Gabriel was sitting on a chair across from them, a glass of whisky sitting in front of him.

"Hey, guys." I murmured over the loud talk, edging toward a free chair next to Gabriel.

Trip's friend side-glanced me before giving me a nod.

"'Sup," was Gabriel's cool greeting packed with a lazy grin. His baby-blues landed on the girl standing next to me. His lips curled as he let out a thick whistle. "Looking good, Valerie."

Valerie tossed her hair over her shoulder, slipping around me to go sit next to Ava.

"I make a habit of that." She answered promptly, grinning slyly.

Trip arched a brow my way, taking a swig of beer. I rolled my eyes knowing what he was implying.

"So..." Gabriel started before throwing back his head, downing the rest of the amber liquid, slapping the glass on the table. "Who's up for a round of shots?"

"I'm game for some tequila." Trip said, kicking back. Ava sent him a short glare, he smirked. "Come on, babe, it's a special day. How many times do you graduate?"

She shrugged, smiling just a little.

"I'm down for some tequila."

"Wait, hey—" I said, but Gabriel was up and heading for the bar. "Your Dad said no drinking."

"No, my Dad said you couldn't drink. You're driving. I'm not." I wanted to point out I could more than handle my drinking, but Ava slid away from Trip's clutches and grabbed Valerie's arm, leaning down when she frowned, whispering. The Ice Queen nodded.

Ava and Valerie merged with a small crowd, pushing towards the back of the bar, before dropping from view. From what I remembered, the bathrooms were back there. I would never understand why girls went to the bathroom in pairs. Was it some sort of rule out of the Girl Code?

Trip scooted to Ava's previous spot, snapping his fingers in front of me. I jerked back startled.

"Are you dating Valerie?"

I blinked. Slowly. My mouth opened but my lips didn't work out the words. I blinked again and it was like my brain finally caught up.

"What? No! This isn't a date. I told before-on the phone-she asked me for a ride."

"Why?"

"It's… She cornered me when her Dad came up to us…" A grin stretched on his face. "It's not like that. Just… It's not a date." I repeated through gritted teeth. What could I say? Not even I could explain why or how I'd gotten roped into this not-a-date soirée.

Trip kicked back in his seat already going off on how I could've turned her down if I didn't want to bring her—sometimes I wished he had a switch-off button. This was karma from before, when I'd teased Valerie about wanting a date with me and not having the guts to ask me.

It sucked.

"Whatever. You could've said no. you told Christian to go fuck himself, I'm sure giving Valerie the bird would've been easier. Unless you're afraid she'd kick your ass, too."

I was getting fed up with everyone implying I was wimpy. I wasn't. There'd been times I'd pictured Christian's face as a target while playing darts. If Mom could read minds she'd have a mild seizure at my so called "violent thoughts".

"Whatever. Valerie and I aren't an item. You know we can't stand each other."

Gabriel shifted in his seat, snorting.

"You have to forgive Trip's romantic view on those around him. He's whipped," Gabe said dryly. Thomas shot him a look. "But he has a point. If you're here with her it means something—if you don't want to date her, you want to tap that ass. No one blames you for that, she's hot."

Trip delivered a knowing wink. Good to know I had their approval. There was no way I could lie and say Valerie wasn't smoking hot, or that she didn't make R-rated fantasies pop up from time-to-time. With those skin-tight jeans… God. But she was also everything I hated about the Upper East side. Bossy, shallow, cold, self-centered and… I sat there scolding at the tequila shot meant for her. And this wasn't a date, she wasn't the boss of me, so, I was grabbing a beer.

Trip broke off with Gabe when I pushed back, getting up.

"Where are you going?"

"Going to get a beer,"

Gabriel chuckled, twisting around, grinning.

"I don't think your plus-one will like that." I was already marching away when he half-yelled it.

"I don't care—" I whispered under a breath. "It's my graduation party, too."

I had to bump my way to the front of the bar, then wait a couple more minutes before a bartender caught my order and slapped a cold beer for the taking. Paying up, I went back to table. The girls were back and the shot glasses were empty.

My beer got a dirty glare from Valerie. I smiled tightly before taking a long swig. They were talking about Colleges. Thomas was sure he'd gotten into Columbia; Ava was a nervous wreck over it. she wanted Columbia, too, saying NYU would be too awkward because her Dad taught there. Gabriel wasn't that worried, something about his Father being a legacy at Columbia. Lucky him. I was pretty laid back when it came to most Ivy league colleges, it wasn't like I was a genius or anything. But after spending two years of my life pretty much holed up, diverting all my attention to books and math problems, my GPA was something I trusted.

Then there was MIT… I took another sip, eying nothing in particular as I thought about the letter that just wouldn't come. Would I open it when it did? I wanted it bad. I wanted to get away from New York, I wanted a new start. Free of ghosts. Free of group meetings. Somewhere I could find out who I was without having to worry about my past. About to take another swig, I paused, bottle half-way to my lips.

Valerie was gone.

I lowered the bottle, looking around our table. Nothing.

"Hey," I called out their attention. Trip and Ava were the ones who looked up, Gabriel was punching away on his phone. "Where's Valerie?"

"She went to get a drink." Ava mumbled, not really happy with her friend's choice.

I was itching to turn around, trying to pin-point her at the bar. I was fighting the strange instinct with all that I had. It took something massive for me to just lean back, nod, and take another swig of beer. I was cool with her drinking, I wasn't her boss, either.

"She's got the right idea," Gabriel murmured, setting down his phone, proving he'd been paying attention. "We should play a game—" Ava's eyes got all big and curious. "A drinking game!"

"What? Ugh, not again…" she sighed, dismayed.

"Oh come on, our drinking game was fun." Trip threw an arm around her, squeezing her against his side. Ava did her best to shrug, rolling her eyes. "What do you say, Finn? Think you can drink and get Miss Valerie home safe?"

"Screw you, man." I bit, miffed. They laughed—it was my time to eye-roll.

Valerie came into view suddenly, plopping next to Ava holding a cocktail that looked awfully familiar. I squinted—right! She'd gotten the same one at Prom. I felt the tips of my cheeks burn. Their laughter was gone, replaced by giant smirks. Valerie knew just when to drop in, catching every embarrassing moment.

"We're playing a drinking game. You in?" Gabriel asked her. She nodded a little too eagerly, smiling. I frowned, maybe this wasn't… "Okay. I'm getting a beer. You?" he pointed at Thomas.

This time, it was Trip who got up and left Ava alone.

"I'll go with you. What do you want, babe?"

Ava looked more resigned than anything else.

"Can't I just sip yours?" Trip totally caved at the doe-eyed gaze.

"Yeah, okay. I'm getting Vodka with juice." He warned—she seemed to like it, though. He patted me on the shoulder, "Another beer?"

I shook it. It was inches away from being empty. I nodded. It was fine, I wasn't even buzzed. I didn't comment on how Valerie looked carefree talking to Ava, they were both talking about some show. I was honestly more concerned with how her lips opened and closed, how they tilted into a small smile—it came and went so fast… Like her smile was playing hide and seek. Ava was still laughing when she pulled out her phone. In that split moment, Valerie's eyes shifted. Her gaze ran along to mine. I felt my breath hitching in my throat.

I was a deer caught in headlights.

Valerie's bronze eyes slit, then, she smiled. It lasted longer than any smile she'd ever given me—sweeter, too. I knew the guys were back without seeing them, it was the second her eyes scampered away and her smile melted. Melted like sweet, sweet sugar…

"So what game are we playing?" Valerie asked, scooting forward. Both hands were nursing her drink.

"How about… Never have I ever?" Trip groaned. Gabe sent him a winning smile, "Don't be a wimp. It's easy to play and fun." Trip looked like he wanted to shove Gabriel into a locker. "Anyone here not familiar with the rules?"

I tightened my hold on the bottle. I'd played this game once—three years ago. About an hour later, my sister… I swallowed, shutting my eyes against the images jumping at me. I did everything in my power to listen to the booming bar music and voices, ignoring the screams from that night.

I flinched when a hand grabbed my wrist. It was Valerie. She was frowning, but beneath annoyance I thought I saw a flicker of… worry?

"Did you hear Gabriel?" What? No, I hadn't. Mussing my hair, I shook my head. "He asked if you knew the rules?"

I tore myself out of my stupor, glancing between everyone. Their brows were all puckered in some degree of curiosity. Trip was the only one who looked like he saw through me—like he knew I'd been stuck somewhere else, reliving something. He said nothing, though.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know the rules." I pulled away from Valerie's touch, lifting the beer and drinking. Nice and cold—I sighed. Much better. "Let's play."

Gabriel volunteered to go first. Volunteered was a strong word, no one wanted to.

"Never have I never… lied to my parents."

Gabriel was the first to drink, next was Thomas and then Ava. I drunk, too. When you had siblings you needed to lie for them, not just for yourself.

"Seriously?" Valerie scoffed, picking up the multi-colored drink. A Paradise—yeah, that was the drink's name. "I didn't think you'd be this unimaginative. Lucky for you it's easy to top, Matthews." She took a long swig, throwing me a challenging glare over the glass's rim.

I spun the bottle slowly, 'round and 'round, thinking.

"Never have I ever…" I paused. A smirk playing on my lips, "Never have I ever been in a three-way."

Gabriel sniggered, lifting his beer in some sort of toast before drinking. Well, that answered how boring Gabe really was. Valerie and Ava shared a look me and Johnny were all too familiar with, April gave it to us every time we did something she deemed 'boy-like'. Trip looked at his mixed Vodka with disdain, a second later he grabbed it and sipped. He swished it before swallowing. Ava didn't say a thing. She didn't even look surprised. I guess they'd had the awkward ex's conversation.

"O-kay," Valerie held up a hand, smirking. "My turn!" she sounded way too energetic. She tipped her head back, lips puckered in concentration. "Never have I ever had sex… while my parents were home."

Gabriel drank. My brother would drink, too, if he were here. Thomas drank, too. Ava didn't and neither did Valerie. Obviously, I didn't drink. I was still… Let's just say the further I'd gotten was second base with a girl back in Florida.

We kept playing for a few more rounds. When I reached the end of my second beer, I was done. I knew I could drink more, but why would I gamble with someone's life? I'd done it before—by throwing a stupid party that got too out of hand. Ava was getting sleepy, her head kept drooping onto Trip's shoulder ever three seconds. Gabriel looked like he was in a back and forth texting match. Valerie… I twisted in my seat, knowing everyone at our table wasn't paying attention to me. Valerie was at the bar.

Again.

After her first Paradise, she'd gotten a second. After we called it quits, she'd waltzed over to the bar. I'd snuck a peak from time to time, just making sure she hadn't run off with some loser. The last thing I needed was to explain that to her Father. The guy made it clear I was responsible for taking her home—without a scratch.

Someone tapped me twice on the back. I turned to see Thomas and Ava standing—she looked like she ready to sleep for ten years straight. Apparently alcohol made her sleepy.

"Are you guys bailing?"

"Yeah, she's beat. And I could use the sleep—I'm working at your Dad's garage tomorrow morning." Trip sniffed, craning his neck to get rid of a kink. "Gabe's leaving, too. He's hitting another party if you want to go with, I'm sure he'll be cool with it."

"Huh, thanks, but no. I better get that one home before she drinks the whole bar."

Ava giggled silently.

"She's not that bad."

"Huh…" I mumbled. Unlike Ava, who got tired after a few sips, Valerie became the poster child for hyperactivity. "Sure. I'm going to check on her. Get home safe, guys." Trip patted me on the shoulder again and Ava gave a tired smile along with a wave.

Trip and Ava left for the exit and I marched for the bar. The movement had died down, there were less people perched at the counter, getting to Valerie wasn't so tough. She was doing shots with six other people, whooping when she was the first to smack the shot glass on the counter. She didn't even notice me coming up behind her. She jumped five-feet high when I grabbed her hips. Valerie's body straightened, the muscles on her back went tense for a minute. Once she glanced over her left shoulder and her hazy eyes registered who I was, she loosened up.

Valerie broke into a smile.

"Did you see that? I won!" she pumped her fists in the air eagerly, twirling. Putting us face to face. My hands fell limp at my sides. "I want to do it again… It's fun! You should come—" Valerie grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the bar. I pulled back.

"I have to drive you home, remember? No more drinking for me." I studied her shiny eyes, the giggling fit she was trying to suppress. "Good grief, you're hammered."

She couldn't hold it any longer. She giggled. Once she began, she wouldn't stop. Valerie covered her mouth for the first minute, muffling the careless laughs from winning too much attention. Hers was strange, though. Not in a bad way. It sounded genuine and carefree. The kind of laugh you'd hear from a child being tickled to death. Overall… it was contagious. I was smiling—because she looked and sounded so darn happy.

I couldn't wipe it off.

Guiding her outside, I reasoned why she couldn't keep drinking. Her only counter argument was 'why?' like any respectable five-year-old.

"Because it's bad for your liver? You can get cirrhosis, you know." I said absently, focused on getting her across the street. It was hard. She kept stumbling, either into me or away from me. Neither were good. "Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?"

Valerie tipped her body back. I reached out quickly, throwing an arm around her waist so she wouldn't fall flat on the side walk. Her purse dangled inches above dark pavement. People were staring. I could feel their gazes as they walked by, detouring around us. It was strange getting this much attention, just like at Prom. The reasons why were way different, but both times included a common denominator. Valerie.

Pulling us upright, I kept her pressed to my side. Valerie's eyes were shifting everywhere, she didn't look the tinniest bit concerned that she'd been seconds away from falling ass-first on the sidewalk.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked, gaze stopping on mine.

"I'm taking you home." I made myself sound more exasperated than I was.

She giggled, "That's funny!"

Deciding to humor her, I asked, "And why's that?"

"Because… I'm drunk." She got out slowly, as if I were the drunken idiot. I lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. "You can't… Can't take me home—I'm drunk!" Okay. My earing might be a little impaired because of the loud bar music, but I thought I heard her say I couldn't take her home. "You can't… Dad's home… Most times he's not, but tonight he is. 'Cause its date night! So… Maria is home, too… Hmm, nope. Can't go home!" She broke into another fit of giggles. Non-stop. Dragging her off the street, I retraced our steps to the underground parking lot. She was slurring. Jumping. Twirling. Pointing. Seriously, it was like babysitting a kid with a bad sugar rush. Standing beside my Chevrolet, I dug out the keys—Valerie planted her palms on my chest, pushing me into the car.

"Valerie…?"

"Yes…?" she mimicked my slowness, tittering.

"What are you doing?" She just stood there looking at me. Half a minute ticked by. Parts of me began to heat up at our closeness. Finally, she offered a measly shrug. "Come on, I got to get you home. I'm sure you can sneak into your room without them—"

Another batch of laughter burst out of her. Sweet baby Jesus. If I dropped her home she was a goner. I didn't think she could push the right elevator button, much less not get caught drunk.

"Where am I supposed to take you?" I muttered, hoping she'd calm down and her buzz would be waved away miraculously. She began rocking back and forth on her heels. God must hate me. "Don't you know your drinking limit? Jesus, Valerie. Where am I going to take you now? Your Dad's going to kill me, isn't he? He's probably going to think I got you drunk—that I was drinking and driving and…" I stopped.

She was nodding along at every word. Eyes closed, hands behind her back. She looked like a school teacher listening to a student reading some paragraph. Only the serious expression wasn't present, she was grinning madly.

"Valerie! Seriously! Listen, I…"

She snapped forward, grabbing my shoulders. Still wearing a big white smile.

"I can stay at Ava's!" She yelled for all the parking lot to hear. Then, like she realized something was amiss, she looked around us. "Finn… I think we lost them. I don't see 'em anywhere…" she was eating words now. Glorious.

"That's because they left the bar before we did." I wanted to yell. The exasperation was real this time around. "They left because Ava was falling asleep. Why couldn't you be like that…?" I grumbled fishing out my cell. Praying to God and every saint in history for them to take her in. No one picked up at first try. I dialed again. Valerie was busying herself with trying to snatch my phone, I held it out of reach, doing some stupid dance around her. She got tired after I dialed Trip for the fifth time. "They're not answering. Damn."

Valerie's arms snuck around me. She hugged me like a freaking grizzly bear. I gasped a breath. This girl was housing some strange muscle power.

"They're busy making babies." My jaw dropped right there. She giggled clutching harder, my air supply was running out. "I bet they'll have adorable blue-eyed babies! Aw, wouldn't that be cute? Babies are sooo cute. Aren't they, Finn? Don't you want a baby?"

"Okay." I claimed her hips, completely flushed. "I declare you officially drunk."

She pouted—more adorably than a baby, I might say. Her swaying body stilled, her hands flew up. My shoulders jumped at the hair pulling. What the hell? I glared weirdly down at her.

"I've never noticed before…" she looked at it in a daze. "Your hair makes you look like a Muppet." Her eyes blinked twice. A laugh echoed out at the same time I sighed looking up, in a stupid attempt to see my unruly hair. "My favorite was the Cookie Monster…"

"He was from Sesame Street." Her lips puckered forming an O shape. "Oh," I copied, whispering with a tentative smile. "It's impressive how you're ass-backwards drunk and still manage to insult me."

"It's a gift,"

I sucked in a breath. Valerie laid her chin against my shirt, brushing the exposed skin—thank you, April—I shuddered. Her fingers were still in my hair, not pulling, just sinking in. Valerie's bronze eyes were shinning underneath the parking lot light overhead and I couldn't resist or renounce the fire sparking to life inside me. She was beautiful—she was drop-dead gorgeous. Standing here, pressed so close together, it was almost impossible not to lean down and kiss her. Her breaths caressed my skin, causing hairs to stand up. It was almost too tentative to pass up—almost. Because Valerie might be drunk, but I wasn't. Whatever happy haze I'd felt from my two beers was long gone.

Valerie was a girl to die for, body-wise. But when it came to personality? It was rotten. As I thought it, my brain supplied me with images—images of me grabbing her out of the way of Christian's car, of us dancing at Prom, of her telling Christian off and of her running out with rim-red eyes because her painting got destroyed. Maybe it was from all those peace-and-love thoughts Mom insisted on while we were growing up, or because Mr. Fitz kept saying that everyone deserved a chance to show their best qualities, sometimes all they needed was trust.

"I'm going to regret this…" I hissed throwing back my head to tell myself off completely—I wasn't going to kiss this girl just because she was hot. Nope. I wasn't like her, I wasn't shallow. "Let's go, get in."

"Huh?"

I pushed forward, prying Valerie away maneuvering her to the side. I opened the door for her, afraid she wasn't strong enough. Who knew? Her legs looked shaky. Valerie put her hand on the door, squinting at me.

"I told you… I can't go home."

"Yeah, I got that. We're not going to your house," I nodded her inside. Making a puffy face, she slid in, plopping on the seat. Very un-Queen like. "We're going to mine."