I woke up, sun streaming in my eyes. I looked around, feverish from last night at the party. We all got wasted (even the dorks) and three couples did it, twelve couples got so close to butt-naked but did wet shirts, seven couples made out with clothes on, and everybody else kissed and messed around.

I jerked up; head pulsing. I looked around my ocean-view room. I had a freakishly long room with a canopy bed in the middle with the walls fitting the shape of it and two nightstands. My bed was right across my big two patio doors, showing off the sun and the beach. My closet area, my make-up area, and my bathroom area on my right, and my cozy "chillin' out" area with a flat screen TV and beanie bags and games on my left. Then, I heard breathing.

Not woman breathing (thank God!) but a deeper, rougher one that reminded me of a guy. An arm suddenly flailed onto my lap, and hoarse laughter erupted the little area. "Good morning, Miss Beach Babe," a familiar voice cooed.

Omigod. Could it be…..?

"DARREN?" I squealed. Oh. My. Flipping. God. I just cheated on my boyfriend with Darren Saemuel! A hot, athletic, and rich Darren Saemuel and quarter back of the football team?

"Hey, don't talk so loud; you might wake your parents or someone," he grinned.

"Holy shit, Darren! You're not supposed to be here! I'm-I'm-I'm with Scott, not you! How'd you even GET here?"

"First off, shit's not holy. Second, we made out and did wet t-shirts and got so high – with Scott – and you told me to go home with you, which, obviously, the drugs got ahead of you."

"Not funny."

"Who's laughing?" He laughed at his own stupid joke.

"Oh God. This is bad, and I mean, SO INCREDIBLY BAD. Did Scott know about you sleeping with me?"

"Um, maybe? I don't know, he was passed out in the back with us in the limo, remember? Right after Mr. Romley told us to shut the fuck up or he's calling the police, then he did call the police and we were gone before anyone else?"

"Omigod – that happened?"

"Hell yeah, and it was awesome!"

"Ohhhhh God. Can you leave? I'm sorry, I'm heading down to the beach in a couple of minutes and my mom will crap her pants if she saw me with you."

"That's fine. Just to let you know, nice rack."

I looked down; embarrassed. I was wearing a see through tank top and short-shorts. I covered myself up, but realized the fact that I'm probably never gonna see him again (gladly) and he'll eventually forget about it all with me. Right?

Once he snuck out, I changed into my baby blue two piece bikini and put a sundress over it and flip-flops. I washed my face, redid my make-up, and fluffed my hair and clomped downstairs; no baking aroma's or no yelling. I got into the kitchen quickly, embarrassed, still, about my little mishap with Darren. I made a promised note in my head and was going to fill its missionaries: make sure Scott does NOT KNOW and is NOT MAD at me. Then, we can live peacefully!

My mom was in the kitchen, reading the mail at the island, and my little brother, Gabe, was playing the PS3 in the game room underneath the staircase, obviously in a very victorious mood. She looked up, surprised to see me, and dashed her angry eyes down. Then she looked back up at my baffled expression, and fixed it to a shy smile.

"Good morning, Amanda." She said.

I shuffled around the kitchen for an English muffin but came up empty-handed and went for an s'mores pop-tart instead. I uncomfortably ducked as if to pick something up, while Mom kept flipping through the mail and stopping every so often to see if I came up.

Mom suddenly got up and went over to the coffee pot, and stared at me like I was an idiot for silently sitting on the floor, eating my breakfast scared as hell that she knew everything that happened last night. She stopped mid-pour and sighed.

"What's the matter with you Amanda? You came stumbling in last night laughing and falling down the steps couple hundred times and in the early morning someone was watching TV on the sixty inch in the family room. I could only guess it was you but you don't watch football unless a guy you like plays in it at school. What's up?" she spat.

"Um…what? 'I' did what? Amber went to a party last night, too!" I said defensively towards myself. My older sister by a year and a half went to a college party last night and hell knows what time she came back, so it could've been her.

"Uh, no. We'll talk about this later. Right now, you need to head out to the beach and practice because tomorrow at three they want to get some shots of you pulling off a new move in the water for your weekly headline journal for Sports Illustrated and California Beach Pro Surf."

"Whatever. Hey, is it that one gay guy, Illmonui Van Tre who's photographing for Pro Surf?"

"He's not gay, Amanda! Illmonui is a great, talented, and professionally active photographer and is a millionaire! Just because he's oddly an Australian and has long hair and is skinny and says he needs to talk to his boyfriend's doesn't give him a chance and credit to be GAY!" She huffed.

"Whatever," I grinned, sprinting out heading for my surfboard. "Later, gator!"

Once I got to the beach, I texted Scott. I searched for him, yet I couldn't see crap from my heavy partying from last night. But I did have my designer Gucci sunglasses on, which BTW was the hottest headwear place this month. Except for Hollister and Aeropostale, don't mind that.

Scottie, babe – im the beach & cant find u! Plz meet me the dock in 5! Luv u!

When I didn't get a reply in about ten minutes while I was waxing my board, I got super nervous because Darren was here and heading in my direction. I wanted to hide, but it was too flipping late because the S.O.B. won't leave me alone!

"Hey, Amanda!" I yawned and pretended to look at my phone busily.

I nodded glumly. "Have you seen Scott or Tiffany?"

"Uh, Scott, no, but Tiffany just got here but is changing in the girl's bathroom. She looked pretty bummed about something, too."

"Humph." I looked out on the beach, and spotted a guy ripping some waves and doing a deep "coral shell" as the beach called it.

When Tiffany emerged into my view, I about had a heart attack. Her hair was longer in layers, she added chestnut-red highlights to it, and she had huge circles under her eyes. She was also drifting when she walked.

"Holy shit!" Darren said. "What the fuck did Ronnie do to her?"

"Omigod, Tiffany! What happened?" I shrieked, retrieving my friend.

"Um, can….he leave?" she stammer-whispered.

YES!

"See you around, Amanda," he said, smirking. "Tiffany, good luck."

He left, leaving a small track of wet sand with him flying behind him.

"Okay, spill." I urged.

"Um, well, Ronnie and I had a few sodas, then two monsters, and then started doing shots. We did the wet t-shirt and….mine was um, too wet, and so were my pants and remember, our bras were showing but I was stupid enough to let Ronnie take pictures of me, then he led me off to make-out and take nude pics and we….had a lot of sex. Like, heavy one-night-stand and I'm-so-wild plus the I'm-never-gonna-see-you-again sex. His friend, someone I didn't know, took videos of us doing it. And then I led him to my house, and we got really wet and wild. I mean, in my pool. Then up in my room, and at about six this morning is when I finally got to sleep. But when I woke up, Ronnie was gone and I was butt-ass naked. He left me a note, already had printed the pictures, and I had a copy and so did he," she broke off, crying. "And he already posted the videos and pictures on the web and texted guys them. I had the worst pain in my life when I woke up. I couldn't find my clothes from last night and my phone was gone. I got up, and threw up for an hour, and then my awesome always-partying mom came in and said I should get a pregnancy test. And….it was…."

She burst out crying. Some people stared at us, and I glared them off. "It's okay."

"No, it's not! I let my crush get a hold of me and he got me pregnant! I'm SO STUPID! He practically raped me!" she gushed.

We spent a while just sitting there, doing nothing. Then, finally, she stopped crying, got up, and went to go over to buy a smoothie. I let it all sink in. Tiffany, a beautiful, professional surfer and model, like me, was pregnant. She got wasted. Her nudity is all over the internet. She lost her virginity. She was a promised educated graduate who made the biggest mistake EVER in less than 24 hours.

I, myself, got up to run over to the water with my surfboard while Tiff waited in the extremely long line for the smoothies. I paddled with my sore arms, and I saw a wave come up. I took a long breath and dove under the water, ready for the wave. When I came up, I gasped for air, and crouched and lifted my legs; balancing the board and myself and doing a 360. I collected speed, and, when I least expected it; Scott came tumbling out of a wave in a mad rush of anger and embarrassment. I went back down in a crouched position and eased on the back of the board, and controlled my stop. I plunked my legs in the cool water and sat on my board near the shore.

"HEY, SCOTT!" I yelled.

He didn't turn, but it was obvious he heard me. He wiped off his face with his hand, unhooked the board's loop on his ankle, and chucked the board at the sandy beach. Camara Daniels, Whitni Parker, and Jenny Fairfield gasped in utter amazement at his anger. Camara giggled and they gawked at his tone muscles.

I rolled my eyes and paddled over to him. I unhooked my board loop, and picked up my surfboard and jogged down the beach; my hair soaked.

"Scott, what's up?" He looked at me, and turned back to the ground.

"I suck shit at surfing." He muttered. "I'm not going to the tournament this weekend."

"Um, why not? Just because some flimsy wave just got a hold of you, and you suddenly hate surfing? How would you like to be Bethani Hamilton and lose your left arm yet kick butt at surfing?" I snapped my mouth shut before I could babble on about how he was overreacting.

"Well, it'd suck. Kinda like I do, and kinda like how you now have a thing for Darren. I know you hung out at the party a lot but that's all I know," he eyed me warily. "Unless there's another thing…?"

I gulped. He possibly knew something too much. "What? NO! Darren is an annoying idiot and is still crushing on me and my sister…" Fuck. I just said my name which would include I would've hung out with him a lot to get those kind of facts, right?

"If that's the case, why the hell did he crawl out of your house this morning suspicious and when he talked to me he mentioned your name at least a hundred times?"

"Um, he must've slept with my sister and because he's a creeper?" Why the heck did Darren mention me to Scott?

"Fine. But if I catch that son of a bitch at your house again or with you; we're done." He warned. He stopped walking, and looked at me. "I know you, Amanda, and you're rich, sneaky, popular, famous, and hot. Any person would do this and you'd cover it. But just don't show it for God sake's."

I squinted in the sunlight and pulled up my bikini top. My blonde hair was becoming really frizzy and was becoming floppy. I set down my board and wrapped my arms around his neck, and we made out for a while until Tiffany called me over.

"What's up?" I asked, embarrassed. I grinned sheepishly over at Scott, while we were walking over holding hands and him carrying a surf board and while I was carrying a surfboard.

I saw Darren lying down in the sand with some chick, but he was looking at me. We locked eyes for a while. She was kissing him at the attempt of looking at me. I struggled to push the thought away, because I didn't want to mess up with Scott. I loved Scott. He was amazing, awesome and sincere. He was my boyfriend and I only liked and cared about him. Not any other sleaze bag.

Didn't I?