“We ended up at a party. Some guy Devon knew,” Renee explained, looking at me out of the corner of her eye, most likely watching for a sign of my well-known disapproval of Devon. But I kept my face blank.

“Oh, yeah? How was it?” I asked, walking out onto the sidewalk and waiting for Renee to catch up. The air was cold and had been hinting at snow for weeks now, though I had yet to see a flake. The sky was a flat, slate gray, and I for one didn’t miss the sun. I loved the cold.

I remembered the way Jayme and I would wait impatiently for snow. Even if it was futile, given the lack of frozen precipitation we experienced during the winter. She would follow the local weather constantly, hoping for a day off from school. We had developed a strange ritual of doing a dance in the yard as though that would encourage the weather we wanted.

When we were younger, we spent so much of our time together. Jayme had been only two years younger than me, but from an early age, I had felt very protective of her. She had always been shy and insecure, having struggled with body image since she was old enough to worry about that sort of thing.

She just hadn’t understood how truly beautiful she was. She had always gone out of her way to make people like her, even if they were the wrong type of people.

Renee stopped walking and turned to me. “We don’t have to talk about Devon. I know you don’t like him. And actually, I understand why. He hasn’t been very nice to you,” she stated, and I couldn’t help the snort that escaped.

“Or you,” I added hesitantly, not sure if I should keep my opinions quiet but finding it hard to stifle how I felt.

Renee thinned her lips, and I waited for the argument. It never came. And I was glad I had voiced how I felt without censoring myself.

“Why don’t we just go get some dinner,” Renee responded shortly, and I knew I had overstepped. It was very clear that she was extending the olive branch only so far, and that I should just take what she was offering and back off.

What was it about an impending train wreck that made it impossible to look away? That’s what Renee’s life looked like—a big messy train ride to doom. But as much as I wanted to jump on the tracks and stop it, I knew my intervention would not be appreciated. Being Renee’s friend of late meant perfecting the art of tongue biting. And I had damn near bitten my tongue in half.

We walked the two blocks to campus in relative silence. It was uncomfortable and forced, and I was wishing I had decided to heat up a pack of ramen noodles instead.

Renee cleared her throat. “So what did you think of Compulsion? Not really your scene, huh?” she asked in an attempt at teasing.

I tried not to jump to the defensive, to stick my tongue out and stamp my foot in a fit of immaturity while shouting, It is so my scene. What do you know about it?

But Renee was right. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that a place like Compulsion was typically the last place you’d find straitlaced, in-bed-by-ten-o’clock Aubrey Duncan on a Saturday night.

There was something really annoying about that.

“I was thinking about going back next weekend,” I said belligerently, just to see what Renee would say to that.

See, I can be as wild and crazy as the next chick.

But it was the truth. I wanted to go back.

I had strangely enjoyed myself. Attempted drugging and possible death by mosh pit aside, it was something I wanted to experience again.

From the look on Renee’s face, I might as well have told her I was planning on shaving my head and starting an all-girl pop group. “You’re going back? Really? Why?” she asked incredulously.

My thoughts drifted to the man in the baseball cap. He had been insistent that I didn’t belong there, that I was the proverbial fish out of water. And now it was obvious that my roommate felt the same way. It made me oppositional and more than a little defiant. Because I was struck by the insane drive to prove them wrong.

And something else had become clear to me: being at the club, dancing in the constricting darkness, I felt like I was able to be a person that I couldn’t be anywhere else. Someone who was a lot more interesting than watching paint dry. Someone who got a thrill out of more than organizing her sock drawer. An Aubrey who was spontaneous and slightly out of control. An Aubrey who was wild.

That Aubrey was fun.

That Aubrey was free.

I gritted my teeth and forced a smile paired with an indifferent shrug. “Why not?” I asked flippantly.

Renee shook her head and followed me into the commons. We got in line for the salad bar, but I had lost my appetite. “You need to be careful in places like that, Aubrey. Sure, they look fun on the surface, but crazy stuff happens there. It’s not exactly like going to the mall or something,” she responded in that worldly way of hers that never failed to make me feel like an idiot.

I gave her a cheesy grin. “Hey, I remember when the Peach Pit was turned into a nightclub. I’ve seen what happens when those crazy Beverly Hills kids get their drink and drugs on. I’m so prepared.”

Renee laughed.

“Watching 90210 is like a manual for life!” I added. Even though I joked about it, I was slightly annoyed at her insistence that I didn’t know what to expect by going to a club like Compulsion. Where had she gotten the idea that I was some silly little shut-in who would be scared of the big bad world?

I knew Renee was just trying to be a good friend. But I didn’t appreciate anyone, whether it was a mysterious stranger who made my insides flutter or the girl who up until six months ago had been my very best friend, treating me as though I was incapable of making sound and reasonable decisions.

“That makes me feel so much better,” Renee responded dryly. She turned to the salad bar and started dumping lettuce onto her plate. I watched in mock horror at the food she was putting on her tray. I had never understood the concept of eating salad for a meal. It was a starter, not a main course. It just seemed all sorts of wrong, this coming from the girl who consumed coffee and snack cakes like they were major food groups.

If this was how Renee was eating, it was no wonder she was skin and bones. I had a sneaking suspicion that her newfound minimal eating habits had to do with a particular douchy boyfriend and his insistence that she stay skinny. Devon really needed a one-on-one with a baseball bat.

I reached past her and grabbed a slice of chocolate cake and put it on her tray. “Do yourself a favor and ingest some calories,” I said before she could argue. I grabbed myself a bottle of water and waited for Renee to swipe her student ID card to pay for her meal.

While I stood there, my eyes drifted around the commons. It was pretty crowded, and there weren’t many seats left. If we were stuck sitting with frat guys again, I was going to walk home. A girl could listen to their engrossing discussions about boobs and beer only so many times.

And then I saw him. Standing by the back wall, just to the side of the fire exit, was Maxx Demelo. I hadn’t seen him after our run-in on campus. He had missed the last support group meeting but had called Kristie to say he had come down with the flu. His absence in the group had been noticeable, and not just by me. It was like he had left a vacuum in his place. It was hard to believe that one person could influence the entire vibe of a group like that.

Meet Maxx Demelo, future cult leader extraordinaire.

After we had dismissed group for the evening ten minutes early due to zero participation, Kristie had mentioned that members were allowed to miss only a certain number of sessions. I hadn’t realized that they were held accountable for their attendance to such a degree.

Having already missed one meeting, Maxx would be able to miss only one more before Kristie would have to report his attendance record to his probation officer. That would come with some hefty consequences, given that his jail time was suspended contingent on his group and counseling participation.

“Are you coming?” Renee asked, nudging my arm with her tray. Startled, I took my eyes from Maxx to follow my roommate to a newly empty table. Thank god, no smelly frat guys.

I sipped on my water while Renee started eating her salad. I watched her as she cut up the lettuce into tiny pieces before putting them in her mouth.

“Does that make it taste any better?” I asked, eyeing her food skeptically. Renee gave me a look that said Shut up and let me eat.

In the lull of silence that followed, my eyes flitted across the room again. Maxx continued to stand beside the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He was leaning against the wall and looking relaxed. But even from here I could see the fine tension in his neck and shoulders. His jaw was rigid, and his eyes darted around the room, always moving, always looking.

His blond curls stuck out on top of his head as though he had been running his fingers through his hair. He wore a tattered and worn pair of jeans and a faded blue T-shirt. Without trying, he was still the best-looking person in the room. I hated how some individuals were born with the innate gift of looking awesome without putting forth any effort. It wasn’t fair for the rest of us average-looking folks.

He surreptitiously checked the time on his watch and then went back to leaning, ever so casually, against the wall. He kept his head down, purposefully not making eye contact, and it was for that reason alone that I knew he was up to something.

“You sure you don’t want anything to eat? You know you’ll be hungry as soon as we get back to the apartment,” Renee said, interrupting my stalkerish staring.

“I’ll be fine,” I responded dismissively. Renee’s lips pinched together.

I gave her a smile, albeit a forced one. “If I get hungry I’ll just raid your stash,” I joked, hoping tonight had allowed me to resume my attempts at teasing her.

Renee’s lips relaxed, and she smiled back. “I may have gotten you some of those buttered crackers you like. You know, just so you stop eating mine,” she added, and I tried not to look shocked. But damn, I hadn’t been expecting that.

They may seem like just crackers to you, but for Renee, that was a huge step. And it showed me, more than anything else, that she was trying to repair our broken friendship.

Who knew crackers could fill me with the warm fuzzies?

“Thanks,” I told her honestly, and this time my smile was easy and natural and bordering on ecstatic. I didn’t quite know what to do with all these olive branches she was tossing my way.

“I’m gonna go grab an apple,” she announced, getting to her feet. I leaned back in my chair and chugged the rest of my water. My eyes wandered back over to Maxx, and this time he was standing in front of the exit. He looked around and then quickly opened the door.

What the heck was he up to?

A young boy, probably no more than fifteen, slipped into the commons. Maxx put his hand on his shoulder and leaned down to speak to him. Maxx glanced around the room again before quickly depositing the boy at a table near the back, hidden in a dark corner.

I watched Maxx as he hurried to the dinner line and grabbed two trays, loading them up with food. Not knowing what possessed me, I got to my feet and followed him. I slipped into the line behind him, grabbing a tray, though not putting anything on it.

I really was taking this stalker thing to an extreme this evening.

When Maxx reached the front of the line, he scanned his card. Then he scanned it again. I watched as his mouth formed a thin line and his face flushed red as he swiped his ID card over and over again.

I peeked over his shoulder and read the machine. Insufficient funds. Maxx looked back toward the corner table, where he had left the boy. He picked up the trays and started to walk away with them.

The woman working behind the cash register called after him. “You can’t take that! You haven’t paid for it!” she yelled. Maxx stopped and looked around, realizing he suddenly had the attention of most of the people in the commons.

The smirking look of confidence that he typically wore was replaced by embarrassment and something that looked a lot like panic.

Before the woman could approach him, I stepped in front of her and held out my student ID card. “I’ll pay for it,” I said shortly, giving her my version of the stink eye. Hey, I could pull off intimidating when I wanted to.