* * *

Six hours later I’d successfully put Dean and Vanessa out of my mind, had lost twice and won once at beer pong, had beat three frat guys at downing six shots the fastest, and had eaten half a loaf of warm, fresh garlic bread.

Wait. What the hell?

“Who gave me bread?” I yelled, and looked around at everyone before tearing off another piece of the soft disgustingness and shoving it in my mouth.

Despite not knowing where it came from, I kept the foil-covered loaf firmly in my grip. I was going to gain five pounds off this alone, and I didn’t care at all right now. Someone started moving against me, and I automatically began moving to the music—half loaf and beer still in hand.

A deep chuckle vibrated against my neck. “What’s that you got there, Indy?”

My eyebrows rose, and my eyes opened sluggishly. “Hmm?”

The person behind me tapped my bread, and I snatched it away from him, holding it close to my chest. “It’s my present. It’s delicious and soft and melts in my mouth, and you can’t have any.”

He pressed his body closer to mine, his hands gripping my hips. “You know what else melts in your mouth,” he said suggestively.

“M&M’s?” I asked with false naivety before laughing loudly and turning to look at him. “I don’t know you, either,” I mused, a smile on my face. “But I do know you, don’t I?”

The handsome guy nodded. “We definitely know each other, Indy.” His body was still moving to the music—as was mine—and his head dipped to kiss behind my ear.

I pushed at his chest, and giggled. Why am I giggling? I’m not a giggler. Am I? Garlic bread plus hot guy plus drinking equals the giggles. Oh God, drinking makes me do math problems. “No.” I drew out the word. “I promised Misha I’d be a good girl.”

A grin tugged at his lips. “You weren’t last week.”

“Last week, huh?” I tilted forward as I studied his eyes, and clapped my bread and cup together. “You’re really hot. Go, me.”

He huffed out a laugh, his expression morphing into something other than the heated look he’d been giving me. He looked confused and kind of shocked. I didn’t blame him—I’d already been mauled by the guy from the coffee shop about an hour ago, and now there was this guy in front of me. I was beginning to wonder how many more guys I’d run into tonight who I’d been hooking up with over the past couple of months. Even through the haze of my drunken mind, I was disgusted with myself.

I wasn’t this girl, never had been. I’d lost my virginity to Dean and had planned on being with him forever. Multiple partners weren’t my thing. Drunken hookups weren’t my thing. Actually . . . getting drunk at all wasn’t my thing.

And now I was frowning.

“Uh, am I missing something?” he asked, and I frowned harder as I wished I remembered him. He really was cute.

I could have gotten his name, I could have walked with him back to my room next door . . . but I didn’t want to fuel this side of me he thought he knew.

I held up my beer and half loaf and smiled. “Cheers.” Turning, I walked away from unknown guy number two and stumbled my way to the hall on the first floor to find the bathroom.

It shouldn’t be that hard. This house was built exactly like ours, and I’d spent enough time in this house that I knew it as well as I knew my own. But the walls were spinning sideways and tilting forward, and my bread was starting to smell like bananas, so . . . yeah, difficulty level in finding the bathroom was at an all-time high.

After one miss, I hit a door that was locked and smacked the hand holding the loaf against the door. “Hurry,” I whined, as I kept smacking my hand against the door.

It was official. I turned into a three-year-old when I was drunk. Note to self before I drank again: I’m an annoying drunk.

“Bathroom!” I whined again, and went to take a sip of my beer, but my cup was suddenly empty. “Lame. So much lame in that cup.”

The door swung open, revealing a flushed couple, and I grinned widely at them. “Hope you used protection,” I sang as I stepped into the bathroom and they hurried out. I’m sure tomorrow I would be grossed out that I used a restroom after people just got done doing unmentionables in it.

After leaving the bathroom with more bread in my mouth, I looked to the left and my eyes narrowed on a closed door. On my right, the music was loud, and the people at the party were even louder. But something about that door called to me.

Rolling up the top of the foil again, I went to the door, twisted the handle, and put all my weight into it, expecting it to be locked.

It wasn’t.

I stumbled in, a giggle bubbling up from my chest as I gripped the doorknob and my bread like a lifeline, trying to keep myself vertical.

“Whoa—shit,” I laughed, and straightened.

There was a sigh behind me. “Guess it’s time to go home?”

I whirled around and fell back into the wall from my too-fast movement, the familiar guy lying on the bed darted up like he could save me from over there.

“Definitely time to go home.”

“You scared the shit out of me!” I hissed.

“Really, Indy?” he said on a soft laugh, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up.

My frown was back. “You know me, too?”

He sent me a patient smile. “Not really.”

“But you know my name,” I prompted.

“Yeah, well—yeah. Come on, let’s get you home.”

I pointed at him and gasped. “Casey!”

His face fell. “No.”

“Cain?”

“No.” He reached me then and put one arm behind my back. “Hold on to your bread, Indy.” And that was the only warning I had before I was in his arms and he was walking me out of the room and down the hall.

“But that was your room. You live here, right?”

“Yep.”

“Keith?”

His lips twitched as he stepped out of the house. “No.”

“You’re the quiet one. I don’t ever see you because . . . because I don’t see you. You’re never at the parties, and you don’t talk to anyone.”

“I’m talking to you now.”

I tore some bread off and used it to point at him before shoving it in my mouth. “That you are,” I said around the bread. “Chris?” I guessed when we were in my house.

“No.”

“I’m on the second floor.”

“I know.”

My brow furrowed as I studied him. He wasn’t looking at me, just looking straight ahead. His black hair looked like it had been styled by running his hand through it, and his eyes looked dark from the lack of light in the house—but somehow, I don’t know how, I knew they would look like honey in the light.

By the time we got to my room, I was chewing on more bread, still studying him, and he was trying to keep his breathing steady even though his arms were shaking from having carried me so far.

“Here we are.”

“Hello, room, I’ve missed you!” I called out, and he actually laughed. My head whipped back around to look at him, my voice filled with awe. “I’ve never heard you laugh.”

“There’s a first for everything, isn’t there?”

“I guess. Can you tell me your name?”

His face fell into a serious mask as he laid me down on my bed, kneeling at the side of it. “You know my name. You just don’t want to remember it right now.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I remember it if I knew it?”

“Great question, isn’t it?”

I grabbed for more bread, and he took it out of my hands. I pouted but didn’t comment on that. “You’re confusing.”

“I know,” he said on a sigh. “Get changed. I’ll go—”

Oh no. Guy number three. “Apparently drinking brings out my inner slut, and I’m sorry if we’ve had sex before, but I don’t want to and I promised Misha I wouldn’t.”

“We haven’t, and I’m not trying to have sex with you, Indy,” he whispered, his eyes burning into mine.

Then why was he here? Why did he know where my room was? He wasn’t shy like Misha. He was just quiet . . . like he’d rather not be a part of whatever everyone else was doing, and our conversations never interested him. I couldn’t remember ever speaking to him before tonight.

I inhaled a soft gasp. “You gave me the bread.” It hadn’t been a question, and I didn’t know how I knew. I didn’t even remember receiving the bread. I just remembered having it all of a sudden. But even without his confirmation, I knew without a doubt that this guy gave me the bread.

He looked away for a few seconds before sending me a brief, strained smile. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“That’s not important right now. Just get changed and get some sleep. I’ll leave water and aspirin on your nightstand, okay?”

Before I could respond, he straightened and quickly walked out of my bedroom. I heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor before the sound descended the stairs.

After kicking off my shoes, I tugged off my jeans and threw them over the side of the bed before tearing off my long-sleeved shirt and bra—leaving me in only a camisole and a pair of lacy underwear. I had my makeup on and I felt grimy and gross, but now that I was in bed I couldn’t even think of getting up to turn my light off, let alone to take a shower. I jerked at my comforter until it was covering me, and rolled over on my stomach, wrapping my arms around the pillow I rested my head on.

A minute later I heard footsteps on the stairs again. Before I knew it, the handsome boy from next door was walking into my room. He didn’t say anything as he set down a glass of water and bottle of aspirin, and it was when he straightened and turned to leave that I just knew.

“Kier?” I called before he could switch off my bedroom light.

His body stilled, and he looked over his shoulder at me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, Indy?”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“I swear I’ll remember you tomorrow.”

The smile fell, and a sad look touched his face. “Good night.”

“Night,” I whispered when he shut off the light and walked quietly out of my room and away from me.

I fell asleep trying to commit everything about Kier to memory, and chanting over and over again that in the morning I would go to him and prove I remembered him.

* * *

Kier

“Hey, excuse me?”

I paused midstep and shut my eyes. That voice. That fucking voice that belonged to a girl who refused to remember me, refused to remember parts of her life for reasons I’d probably never understand. The girl who refused to leave my damn mind.

I ground my jaw and turned, already knowing I’d find her looking apologetic for stopping me—and there she was. Hands covering her mouth, eyebrows drawn together as she bounced on the balls of her feet once.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sure you’re busy, and I don’t really know you—I mean, we’re neighbors, but we don’t talk. And anyway, I need your help, or someone’s help,” she rambled. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.” Her cheeks filled with heat, and my lips twitched up.

“You’re not bothering me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, what do you need?”

“Um, my car”—she hooked her thumb over her shoulder, and then turned to look at it—“is dead. I need someone to jump it so I can get to class. I only have one today, but I have an exam that I can’t afford to miss.”

I grimaced. “I don’t have cables.” Lie. “But I’ll give you a ride. I’m heading to campus and will only be there for an hour or so. I’ll drive you back.”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a second. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“You’re not, come on.” Not waiting for her, I turned and walked over to my SUV, and was actually surprised when I’d started it and she was sliding into the passenger seat. I hadn’t expected her to come that easily.

“Kyle, right?” she asked, her face excited as she waited for my answer.

My lips tilted up again. “No.”

“Oh God. I’m sorry.”

My eyes bounced over her face for a few seconds, taking in the redness there from the cold air outside, and her embarrassment. It was adorable on her. She ran a hand through her waist-length red hair, and her green eyes darted back to mine as she pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her fingers.

“Kier,” I offered.

Recognition flashed in her bright eyes. “Right! I know I’ve heard that. You’d think I’d remember an awesome name like that.”

You’d think you’d remember a lot, I thought. I wanted to tell her she’d promised me four days ago that she would remember me, but there was no point. She promised me that almost every Saturday night. So I didn’t respond, just pulled out onto the street and concentrated on driving.