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My phone buzzes as I’m pulled toward the kitchen, and I take it out to read Ryann’s response.

Ry:

I just had to sit down to hide what that picture did to me, fucking hell.

You’re gorgeous. Please don’t take anything off before you come home, I want to sit you on my lap and play with you.

Ah, shit. Now, I have to hide what that message did to me. Somehow. Ugh, I should have just worn a hoodie and sweats. Luckily—or unluckily—some Party Bro burps in my face when I pass by, so that takes care of the boner situation.

KC introduces us to some guy pouring shots behind the counter and with the way they’re looking at each other, I’m pretty sure they’ve seen each other naked. Carpenter seems to think so too—his eyes narrow as he watches them flirt, his jaw tightening. His attention snaps to me when another guy standing too close presses a drink into my hand.

“Nope.” Snatching the cup, Carpenter shoves it back into the guy’s chest with a glare before pulling me away. “We don’t take drinks from strangers. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’ve never been to a house party before.”

“Seriously? Well, fuck. Don’t leave my side, then.”

Tina wanders off to find their girlfriend, leaving me to watch Carpenter play beer pong. After mixing me a drink himself—presumably to ensure I don’t get roofied—he demands I blow on his ping-pong balls for luck before each throw. I do it, but it makes no sense. This game is about hand-eye coordination, what does blowing on balls have to do with anything?

Eventually, Tina and their girlfriend pull me onto the dance floor, sandwiching me between them. I try to have fun, but I’ve never really danced before, and I’m hyperaware of how awkward I am. The pounding music combined with whatever drink Carpenter made earlier has my head spinning, and I feel more out of place than ever.

To make matters worse, KC and the guy he introduced us to have vanished, which has clearly set Carpenter on edge. His glare keeps darting toward the kitchen like he’s expecting KC to reappear any second. Plus, there’s no cake. Not a single slice.

What kind of birthday party has no damn cake?

Extracting myself from Tina’s arms, I slip away in search of a bathroom, desperate for a break from the crush of body heat. After some wandering, I finally spot one down a dark hallway, but as I pass a group of guys huddled together smoking, one of them grabs my arm.

“What the fuck is this?” he snaps, yanking me back before I can even reach the door. The force makes me stumble, a startled yelp escaping my lips. “I don’t wanna see this shit. Get the fuck out of here, fag.”

My stomach plummets, cheeks burning hot at the word he just used.

“Did you hear me?” The stench of alcohol rolls off his breath, spittle landing on my face when he snarls. “Get your disgusting ass out of my sight.”

Instantly, I start trembling, frozen as tears sting my eyes. Laughter erupts from his friends, spewing more words that rip open old wounds. When he takes a step toward me, I instinctively back away.

Right into a solid chest.

“There you are,” Carpenter grumbles, grabbing my shoulders, and I sag against him in pure relief. “I told you not to leave my side, where’d you go?”

Drunk Asshole sneers, glancing between us. “You his boyfriend?”

Carpenter stiffens behind me, his grip tightening. “So what if I am?”

“We don’t want no cocksuckers around here.”

“No one wants to suck your tiny dick anyway,” Carpenter scoffs, spinning us around. “Come on, Shilo.”

“The fuck did you just say?”

Before I can react, my body jerks forward as Carpenter gets shoved from behind. He spins around, shoving the guy right back. “Keep your hands off me, fuckass!”

And then everything descends into chaos.

Asshole’s cronies jump in, one of them landing a punch to Carpenter’s cheek with a sickening crack that echoes through the hall. My screech rips through the air as another guy rears back for a second hit.

Without thinking, I lunge forward, pulling Carpenter out of harm’s way. Pain explodes in my skull as someone’s knuckles slam into my nose, sending me stumbling into the wall. My head smacks against it with a dull thud, and I slide to the floor as three other bodies join the fight.

Through tear-blurred eyes, I catch flashes of movement: Tina grabbing the asshole in a headlock, their girlfriend delivering a sharp kick to one of his friends’ nuts. KC is on another guy’s back, slapping him wildly like a feral cat. The sight would probably be really funny if I weren’t bleeding all over my shirt—