I’m attempting to tuck the girls back inside my bra when I hear the sound of heels clacking outside the door.

Oh, God. Please don’t let that be Casey and her clan of bitches.

My first week at RHA, Britney—Casey’s predecessor—along with Casey and a few other cheerleaders, stole my clothes from the locker room while I showered. I had no choice but to roam the halls in a towel so I could find a teacher while everyone laughed and mooed at me.

Of course, Britney also posted a picture of the event on Instagram. It was horrible and hurt like hell, but it taught me a valuable lesson. A few of them actually.

Don’t put yourself in a compromising position—because students at RHA love starting rumors and thrive on gossip.

Never let your guard down around bitches.

Make sure you have spare clothes in your car and backpack.

My heart sinks. I’ve already broken rule number one tonight.

“Get up,” I hiss as I frantically button up my sweater.

Cole doesn’t budge and he’s too heavy to push off, but it doesn’t matter…the doorknob is already turning.

We’re both so screwed.

Serves me right. This is what I get for hooking up with another girl’s boyfriend.

Even though Cole is convinced Casey’s cheating on him. Two wrongs don’t make a right.

No matter how good the wrongs feel together.

“Get off me,” I growl in a last-ditch effort before the door opens and the lights flick on.

“What the hell?” Bianca’s brown eyes are wide as saucers. “Are you okay?”

For a moment I think she’s talking to her brother, but her gaze is trained on me.

The girl—who’s usually so cool and composed—looks like her entire world is crumbling.

That’s when it occurs to me what it might look like from her perspective. Crap.

“I’m fine,” I assure her, searching my brain for something that won’t expose our little tryst, but can still account for why he’s on top of me. “Cole was...” I hold up the inhaler in my hand, as though it explains everything. “Helping me breathe.”

Bianca lifts an eyebrow. “What?”

What is right because my next sentence is a steaming pile of horseshit, but the hole’s already been dug and it’s the best I can do.

Plus, my pride refuses to let me tell her the embarrassing truth.

I make a mental note to call Dylan when I get home, because at least she won’t make fun of me when she hears about Cole passing out mid-hookup.

“I was having an asthma attack when he stumbled in here drunk.” I clarify, mixing two elements of the truth together. “I told him I couldn’t breathe and he…started performing CPR.”

Yup, because that makes so much sense.

Understandably, she looks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “Why would he perform CPR if you have an inhaler in your hand, and you were still able to breathe well enough to tell him you couldn’t?” She crosses her arms. “Not to mention, how could he possibly do all that while he’s sleeping?”

Those are very good questions. Who knew Bianca was so astute?

“Right? To tell you the truth, I was wondering the same thing…but you know how Cole is when he drinks. He’s not exactly the most—”

“Did you find him?” Oakley calls out, barreling into the room behind her.

I’m not sure what to make of the look on his face when his eyes land on Cole who’s still snoozing…on top of me.

“Cole was giving her CPR,” Bianca offers with a coy smile.

Baffled and tipsy himself, Oakley scratches his head. “Well either he screwed up, or Sawyer got greedy and stole all his air until he passed out.” Eyes narrowed; he wags a finger at me. “You better fix him.”

Yeah, I really have to start tutoring him ASAP, because that is not how it works.

“Can one of you please close the door?”

I’m much better off containing this little fire between the three—make that four—of us.

Bianca starts to close it but pauses. “Fine, but only if you agree to do something for us.”

I don’t like the sound of this one bit, but I don’t really have a choice. “What?”

She looks at Oakley who’s lighting a joint. “Oakley drove us here, but he’s too trashed to drive now. And given Cole’s still in his” —she makes air quotes— “CPR coma and I don’t have a license, we’re gonna need a ride home.”

“Deal.” I glare at both of them. If Bianca can play the manipulation game, so can I. “As long as you two keep your mouth shut about this. Not that anything happened, I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

Especially when I haven’t had a chance to wrap my head around what happened myself.

Not that I’m expecting Cole to break up with Casey and start dating me, but I do think we need to have a conversation about what transpired between us tonight. When he’s sober.

Oakley takes a drag off his joint. “Shit, I can barely remember what happened five minutes ago.”

“Five minutes ago, your tongue was still down Morgan’s throat,” Bianca mutters under her breath as she closes the door and walks over to the bed.

We both attempt to move her brother, but fail. Not only is Cole a lot heavier than he looks, apparently he’s also the type who could sleep through a bomb going off.

She snaps her fingers at Oakley, who’s still happily toking away. “A little help here.”

After tossing the roach out the window, he joins us.

“Shouldn’t have slammed all that whiskey before, man,” Oak says as he stands up a wobbly, and still out of it, Cole. “I told you, beer before liquor—”

Oakley doesn’t get a chance to finish that sentence because Cole retches…right before he proceeds to puke all over the bed.

I’m grateful I had the good sense to get off it when I did. I’m also feeling much better about him passing out on top of me…because it could have been so much worse.

I shudder as I recall Dylan telling me about Jace vomiting pineapple pizza all over Britney Caldwell in the middle of a party last year.

Her reputation was destroyed after that. Although it had less to do with the pizza, and more to do with him proclaiming how she’s not exactly fresh down there.

Either way, it was karma.

“Never been sicker,” Oakley finishes before turning his attention to a visibly disgusted Bianca. “I’m gonna take him to the bathroom.”

Bianca nods. “Good idea.”

“I’m gonna search for a bucket or bowl,” I state as Oakley hauls him away.

I once gave a guy from my youth group a ride home after he got sick at church. It took over a month for the putrid smell to fully disappear, and I really don’t want to relive the experience of cleaning puke from my van again.

I head for the door, but Bianca halts me.

“Sawyer?”

“Yeah?”

Lips quirking, she gestures to my cardigan. “You missed a few buttons.”

SAWYER

Nerves flutter in my belly as I exit my van and head for the school entrance.

It’s Monday morning, which sucks already, but sucks a whole lot more when you’ve been waiting for someone to call or text you all weekend.