When a slow song finally came on, he grabbed my hips and pulled me close. I wrapped my arms around his neck and saw Sebastian staring at me while he danced with a girl from BA. I forgot my earlier irritation and gave him a cocky grin, waiting on his leer, but he didn’t tease back. He looked at me hard, like he was mad, and then twirled his partner around until his back was to me.

What the hell? Did both of the Tate boys need meds for their mercurial moods?

“Sebastian says you’re in a band with him? Girls in bands are hot,” Matt said in my ear, steering me away from the dance floor and over to a grove of trees near the side of the house. I tried to lead him back to the dance floor, but he stumbled and crushed my toes. I gave in and let him lead.

“Um, I’m not actually in the band. There’s a friend in the band I’m helping learn some new music. That’s all,” I told him absently, looking around the deserted yard, pissed at myself for letting him maneuver me out here. “Hey, don’t you think we should go back to the patio. I can barely hear the music out here.”

He grinned. “I’ll sing for you,” he said and started moaning the words to Marvin Gaye’s song “Let’s Get It On” in my ear. Seriously. Matt was lame.

I rolled my eyes and said the first thing that came to mind. “Aren’t you mad at me for ratting on you about April?”

“No,” he murmured, leaning down to lick a spot near my ear. I stiffened and shifted, trying to avoid him.

The song ended, and I was almost twitching with the need to get away from him. Not only was he coming on too strong, but he reeked of beer.

“Let’s stay here,” he demanded, pushing me up against a tree, making me feel claustrophobic.

“I need another drink first,” I squeaked out, jerking back from him and breathing heavily. A prickle of fear rippled over my body.

He captured my arm and pulled me back, pinning me tighter against the tree. He rocked his hips into mine and leaned down to kiss my neck as I struggled to slide away, but he’d locked his arms, holding me hostage.

“Let me go,” I wheezed, fighting against his restraint, but I wasn’t strong enough. I’d never been strong enough. I twisted in his arms, the effort making me pant. Dark and vicious memories filtered into my head, reminding me how I’d given in before. How no one would ever love me if they knew.

I would die before I let new memories in.

He grinned, ignoring me. “Chill out. I know your type. All nice and quiet, but freaky underneath that up-tight exterior.” He tried to kiss me on the lips, but I spun my face away, and he laughed. “You wanna play hard to get?” he murmured, his hand reaching up to hold my face still.

I spat in his face and glared at him, welcoming the fury that now coursed through my body, overtaking the fear and refusing to let this happen to me.

He blinked and reached up to wipe away the spit, giving me just enough room to raise my leg and knee him hard in the crotch. He yelped out and collapsed to the ground with his legs bent up around his waist.

“What the hell, Nora?” he gasped out. “I wasn’t gonna do anything! I was just playing around!”

My entire body shook. My hands, my arms, my legs, and even my face felt like it was vibrating. I wanted to jump on his prone body and tear him to bits; I wanted to take my fists and slam them down over and over against his face; I wanted to make him hurt like I’d been hurt so many times. Instead, I bent over, closed my eyes and dragged in deep gulps of air.

He moaned and sat up, peering up at me with rage. I didn’t care. My rage was bigger than his. “If you ever come near me again, I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me? I’m not afraid of you,” I bit out.

I’d faced worse evil than quarterback Matt Dawson.

I left him there and ran for the patio, anxious to leave this house that reminded me too much of my own. I found Mila by the pool, surrounded by friends. I tried to explain why I was ready to go without saying too much when she announced, “Trouble at two o’clock. Evil bitch and copycat cohort arriving in three, two, one . . . annnd . . .they’re here.”

Emma and April planted themselves in front of me. Shit. When would this night be over?

Getting straight to it, Emma pointed her finger in my face. “Did you think I wouldn’t see you dancing with my boyfriend?”

I laughed at the absurdity of it all. “No one wants your boyfriend but you. Oh, and April here,” I smirked.

“You broke us up, skank! You lied about him and April. Matt and I have been together for years, and no freak-of-nature brainiac is going to take him away from me,” she snapped.

I shook my head in disgust. I never wanted to be near Matt Dawson again. I just wanted to leave this fucked-up party and never come back to this house.

“What? Nothing to say to me, Nora?” Emma said and nudged April, “Look, the bee girl is out of words.”

Something about Emma truly frightened me. Always had. Maybe that was part of the reason I’d always let her push me around. And as I stared at her, I realized why. She reminded me of Mother with her skillful sarcasm and scathing cut-downs. Both of them were snakes, cold-blooded and masters at spotting weaknesses in opponents, which they’d use to plan nasty attacks.

Suddenly Mila jumped in front of me, bless her heart. “Leave us alone, Emma,” she told the viper. “Matt asked her to dance.”

Emma chortled. “Is sweet Miss Priss taking up for the geek?” she sneered, pushing her fingers into Mila’s chest until Mila staggered back and fell into a chair. Emma tossed her full cup of beer into Mila’s face and turned back to me, her eyes like death rays. “Boyfriend-stealing sluts are not allowed at my party, so leave.”

My adrenaline from my skirmish with Matt rose back up to the surface. I’d had enough. Enough of guys putting me second, enough of people pushing me around and telling me what to do, and enough of trying to please them all. None of them knew the real me, the one that carried a six-inch knife.

Plus, she’d just poured beer all over the sweetest person I knew.

“Emma, do you know what your problem is?”

Emma twisted her lips. “I don’t care what you think, bitch.”

“You’re a mean person, and these people here aren’t really your friends,” I said. “Oh, they’ll kiss up to you because they want to be popular, but behind your back, they talk about that mole on your cheek that looks like a zit or how big your ass is in that mini skirt.”