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"Do I get a prize if we win?" I ask sarcastically, realizing too late that he could easily misinterpret that question.

Joey laughs, revealing the deep dimple with his beautiful smile. "If we win, I'll make sure you go home with a prize," he promises, "even if I have to buy you a stuffed monkey."

I grin, grateful that he didn't turn the comment into an invitation to get in my shorts. "I'd prefer a zebra."

This makes him laugh again.

"Ready?" the guy at the other end calls to us impatiently.

"Let's win me a zebra," I say, earning strange looks from the spectators who heard me.

And we do win. It may have helped that the other team just played three games and were kinda drunk. Or it could have had something to do with the fact that I'm pretty damn good at this stupid game. Not bragging or anything, but I'm impressive, sinking the ping-pong ball in cup after cup, earning cheers and high fives from the onlookers. And a bear squeeze of a hug from Joey when I nailed the winning shot, which made it difficult to breathe for more than one reason. Wow, he's built.

Who knew that the best way to fit in at a party was to kill them at their own game?

"Who's up next?" one of the losers asks. They have names, but I don't remember them.

"We've gotta go." Joey's announcement is met with groans.

That's when I notice the same bitchy girl from earlier glaring at me from across the room. When he takes ahold of my hand, like we're meant to be together, I can't help but smirk at her, which only makes her angrier. So, of course, I laugh.

"What?" Joey asks, looking in their direction. He must catch on before I say anything because he pulls me closer, settling his hand on the small of my back as he guides me away.

I check my phone while we climb the stairs and find a text from Tori from two minutes ago. Nina's out front. Waiting.

"They're out front," I tell Joey, abandoning my empty beer cup next to some expensive-looking sculptures on a table in the hallway.

As soon as we step outside, I remember, "Oh. My bag."

"Where'd you leave it?" Joey asks.

"I'll be right back," I tell him, releasing his grasp to rush along the side of the house. I duck down in the shadows and reach under the deck for my bag.

When I stand, there's someone behind me.

"Got it," I say, assuming it's Joey.

Except this guy's much bigger.

"Knew you'd show up to find me," he says, hovering a little too close.

"You're delusional," I tell him, moving to walk past him.

He grabs my arm, whipping me around to face him. "Where do you think you're going?"

I stare up at the same annoying guy from earlier today at school. The guy who obviously won't take no for an answer. I search for his name but can't bring it to the surface. God, I really suck with names.

"Don't touch me." I slip my free hand into my jacket pocket.

"You think you're too good for me?"

"Yes," I say, realizing too late that the answer should've remained in my head. "But don't take it personally. I'm too good for most guys."

That didn't help. His grip on my arm tightens as his cockiness turns bitter.

"You're such a fucking bitch."

"I should really have that tattooed somewhere," I say, removing my hand from my pocket and pressing the button. "Now let go of me or I'm going to tattoo my name on your balls."

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