As always, huuuuuge thank you to SeriousAliysa, e-wilson22, and the-stuttering-kiwi for reviewing. Y'all are the bomb. *kissy face emoji*

This chapter (and the next) are big for Shea and Rodrick. Strap in and get ready!

Chapter Ten: Liar (Takes One to Know One)

On the day before his big New Year's party—the one Shea and Rodrick had been looking forward to since he mentioned it earlier that month—Ben called Rodrick and delivered the worst possible news.

"He said his brother's claimed the house," Rodrick grumbled, rotating his phone in his hand. "This sucks. It's too late to make new plans now."

"Maybe we can find a concert to go to?" Shea suggested.

"Yeah, but how many will be 21 and over?"

"Good point." She bit her lip, suddenly longing for her fake ID.

Shea looked around the living room as if she would see something that inspired her. It was a quiet day at the Heffley house: Susan was doting on Manny upstairs, Frank was assembling new Civil War figurines in the basement, and Greg and Rowley were playing the new Twisted Wizard that Rowley had gotten for Christmas. Rodrick and Shea had dedicated a good portion of the day to watching the boys play the game (while providing snarky comments in the background). Rodrick would never admit it out loud, but he enjoyed spending time with his brother, even if it was in small doses like this.

Shea wondered, "What are your parents doing for New Year's?"

Rodrick shrugged. "I dunno. Probably nothing. Why?"

Shea was struck by an idea so brilliant she couldn't believe she thought of it. She nearly burst, "What if we have a party here?"

Rodrick, though, didn't think it was quite as genius as she did. "Really?"

"Well, it won't be a big party. But we could have Ben and Chris and Sam over. And Greg and Rowley could have their friends come too."

Rodrick scrunched his face in disgust. "What?"

Greg paused the game, hearing his name. "Yeah, what?"

"No one's going to want to come to a party when my parents are home," Rodrick said matter-of-factly. "Mom would have us under her thumb the whole time."

"It could be fun," Rowley said encouragingly.

Shea shot the boy a grateful smile. "Thank you, Rowley. And of course your parents won't be here. We'll ask to have the house to ourselves."

"My parents would never let me throw a party," Rodrick snorted. "I did last year and they caught me. I was grounded forever."

"You also did at the end of the summer and they didn't catch you." Shea countered, "Besides, asking permission shows you're being responsible and respectful of your parents' rules."

"Okay, do you know who I am?" Greg snorted at his brother's words.

She rolled her eyes and lolled her head back so her voice echoed through the house, "Susan!"

Rodrick smacked her leg. Shea narrowed her eyes at him, and Rodrick gave her a clear "what the hell are you doing?" look.

Susan thundered down the stairs into the living room. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were stretched like she had just woken up from a nap.

"Is everything okay?" she asked frantically, adjusting her glasses.

"Were you sleeping?" Greg asked.

Susan said defensively, "Moms take naps too. What's wrong?"

Rodrick looked pointedly at Shea, who defiantly ignored her boyfriend's daggered stare. "What are your thoughts on Rodrick and I throwing a New Year's party tomorrow night for a few close friends? We were thinking Greg and Rowley could invite a few people, too."

Susan smiled. "Oh! We're not doing anything tomorrow, so we'd be happy to disappear upstairs and—"

Rodrick shot Shea a look that said, "I told you so." She cleared her throat and persisted, "Well, we were thinking we could have the house to ourselves. At least until after the ball drops."

Susan's lips made a thin, straight line. "Ooh, I don't know about that."

"Please?" she pleaded. Thinking of Rodrick, she said, "I doubt our friends will want to come to a party with parents around."

Susan sighed, "Well, I'll talk to your father about this." She clapped a hand on Rodrick's shoulder, making him jump. "Okay?"

"Okay," she and Rodrick choired.

Susan ran her hand through her hair and then disappeared downstairs. The basement must have been extra insulated, because neither Shea nor Rodrick could hear anything his parents were saying.

"I think they'll say yes," Shea said if only to annoy her boyfriend.

Rodrick rolled his eyes. "Maybe in another universe."

After about 20 minutes, both Susan and Frank reemerged, looking grim. Rodrick looked darkly pleasant.

"Greg, can you please pause your game?" Susan asked. Once Greg had done so, she took a deep breath. "Okay, here's the deal. Yes, we'll let you guys have the house tomorrow."

Rodrick nearly leapt out of his seat. "What?!"

"But," Frank said sternly, looking directly at his oldest son, "Absolutely no drinking, and not a lot of people. This should be a small get together, not a party, okay?"

"Okay," the group choired.

"We'll come home after the ball drops. So sometime around one, maybe two." To Shea and Rodrick, Susan said, "We trust you two, okay?"

Frank added, again, directly to Rodrick, "The only reason we're letting you do this is because Shea's put you on your best behavior. Don't make us regret it."

"Yeah, no problem," Rodrick said coolly, frantically texting on his phone.

"Great," Susan forced a smile. "This will be fun, right?"

The boys murmured in agreement, and Shea smiled at her boyfriend's mother. Rodrick pointedly ignored Susan's stare. Shea could already see something diabolical brewing in his mind. Even though she wanted to relax and enjoy the party, she couldn't help but worry what sort of trouble they would encounter.

Susan and Frank left around seven in the evening on New Year's Eve, giving Shea and Rodrick about an hour to hang up decorations (Christmas lights from Rodrick's bedroom), hide valuable knick-knacks and personal photos, and unearth a variety of snacks for munching on from the pantry. Even Greg and Rowley helped with the preparations, as they were adorably excited about having their own mini party ("Upstairs, away from us," Rodrick continually clarified). Their excitement was infectious, and Shea found herself unusually pleased with how nice the living room looked, and how well dressed they were (a dark green jacket, Guns n Roses shirt, and jeans for Rodrick; a short leather jacket, orange tank top, and skinny jeans for Shea).

Ben and Chris were the first to arrive, bearing a small flat screen for TV (for Greg and his friends to play video games on… upstairs, away from us) as well as a box of booze. Rowley's eyes widened with anxiety when he saw what was in the box.

"Didn't Mr. Heffley say no drinking?" Rowley asked Shea timidly.

Shea didn't know how to justify their intentional rule-breaking to a naïve boy like Rowley. She had to admit that she too was a little nervous about openly defying Susan and Frank, but on the other hand, they wouldn't be home for a few hours, so what was the harm if they sobered up and Ben took the evidence home with him?

Before she could open her mouth, Rodrick hissed, "You didn't see anything, got it?"

Rowley shrunk in Rodrick's presence. "Okay," he quivered.

Shea pinched Rodrick's arm. "Ow!"

"Be nice," she warned.

He rolled his eyes and handed Shea a cup full of rum and coke. "I'd rather not."

Holly and another blonde girl (Shea thought she heard Holly call her Angie) arrived next, and the four kids disappeared upstairs to Greg's room. Shea, Rodrick, Ben, and Chris moved into the living room, all properly liquored, and turned on the TV while they talked about—what else?—which song to submit for their audition for the Battle of the Bands competition.

"Every time you mention the audition, you drink," Shea teased. The boys shrugged, and then drank.

Luckily, Sam arrived next. To her surprise, Lindsay and Nicole were in tow, looking excited for a night out. Her shock must have etched onto her face, because Sam quickly apologized once they'd gotten inside.

"I hope you don't mind," Sam clasped his hands together as if he was begging. "Lindsay said she didn't have anything to do, and of course she can't go anywhere without Nicole…"

Shea watched as Rodrick hugged Lindsay, and directed her into the kitchen for drinks. The extra guests made Shea nervous; the last thing she wanted to do was get in trouble with Rodrick's parents. But hey, they were friends. It wasn't like Sam had invited the whole school.

"Yeah, sure," Shea smiled, effectively squashing the small, nagging voice in her gut that said this was a bad idea.

Sam kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you, beautiful! Now where's the booze?"

"Kitchen. We've got real liquor this time."

"Liquor?! Shots!" Sam shouted, and the rest of the room hollered in agreement.

Five shots and a drink each later, Shea and Rodrick's mini New Year's Eve party was in full swing. Chris had turned on a playlist of fast punk songs ("Maybe we'll hear something that we should play for the audition," he said, while Shea demanded, "Drink!"); Lindsay had nominated herself official party photographer, and was getting all sorts of candid shots, including a cute one of Rodrick and Shea cheesing; and Ben broke out the playing cards for Kings. Kings was one of Shea's favorite drinking games because it was fast and a surefire way to get drunk quickly.

Of course, playing with a lot of people who had already ingested enough alcohol to produce a pleasant buzz meant they were hard to focus. Someone would draw a card, and the group would do what the card instructed… which would then remind Ben of a story that took five minutes to tell. Either that or a song would come on the radio that would make Rodrick eagerly ask, "This one?" while Ben and Chris shook their heads; Sam, who caught on to Shea's annoyance, yelled, "Drink!"

Ben drew an 8, which meant it was time for Never Have I Ever. Each person raised three fingers and waited for Ben to start.

"Never have I ever…" Ben thought. "Never have I ever done hard drugs."

Chris put down a finger. Shea demanded, "Define hard."

The group chuckled at her defiance, but Sam shook his head. "Just put down your finger, sweetheart."

"No, I mean, if you're talking about weed too, I wanna take all of you down with me," she grinned devilishly.

"No I'm not counting weed," Ben said. "Anything other than weed. There."

Shea put her finger down. "I hate you."

Next up was Nicole. "Never have I ever, uh, blacked out drunk."

Chris, Ben, Sam, and Shea all put down their fingers.

"Really?" Sam asked skeptically. "I feel like I do that on the weekly."

Nicole shrugged. "Yeah. I guess I never drink enough."

"We can change that tonight," Ben suggested.

"Maybe another time," Nicole said nervously.

Lindsay came next. "Okay, hmm. Never have I ever…" she tapped her fingers on her chin. "Ah! Looked at porn."

Everyone else in the group put down a finger, but it was Shea and Chris who lost the round and would be drinking. Still, the alcohol lightened Shea's brain and made her much louder than she intended to be.

She burst, "Seriously? Nothing at all?"

Lindsay smirked. "Nah, sorry."

"Oh man, do I have a story about that." Ben clapped Rodrick on the back. "Shea, has he told you about this?"

Rodrick's face reddened. "Oh my god, please don't."

Lindsay pointed at her ex. "If this is the story I think it is…"

Ben smirked. "It is."

She laughed gleefully. "This is a good one. Go on, go on."

Rodrick buried his face in his hands. Ben said, "So it's our sophomore year, right? We're having band practice out in the garage when all of a sudden Rodrick's mom comes out and she's holding this magazine." Chris and Lindsay both started sniggering, but Ben continued, "And there's this girl on a motorcycle wearing a bikini that barely covers her huge tits front and center. And his mom's like, his mom's like." Ben started laughing so hard he doubled over.

Luckily, Chris came to the rescue. "And his mom's like, what's this magazine? Does owning it make you a better person? What do you have to say to women for owning this kind of magazine?"

Ben said, his face red from laughing, "And Rodrick goes… I'm sorry, women."

The group burst out laughing—all except for Rodrick, who was still hiding his face in his hands. Shea laughed so loud and hard her sides hurt and she started to cry, which Sam didn't miss.

"Are you crying?" he shrieked.

Shea nodded. "I just…" she took a breath. "Who buys porn anymore?"

Rodrick uncovered his face. "I didn't have a computer then! What, was I gonna do—borrow my mom's laptop and say, hey, can I have this? I need to jack off."

Shea argued, still swallowing fits of laughter, "You delete the browser history, you moron!"

Rodrick's face fell, which made the group laugh harder.

"Oh my god. I'm gonna pee," Sam cried.

The group's laughter subsided into giggles. They were all catching their breath, ready to move back to game play, when Lindsay said, "I'm sorry, women."

And they all lost it again. Moments like this were why Shea loved her friends: they could ball up her anxiety and throw it away. (Also, the rum and coke didn't hurt.)

Thankfully, the group managed to get through the rest of the round without another major distraction (although "I'm sorry, women" was quickly becoming their collective catchphrase). As Chris was dealing the next round, Shea felt her phone vibrate in her jacket pocket. When she pulled it out, she saw that she was receiving a Skype call from Priya.

"Hello!" Shea exclaimed. "Good morning! How's the new year treating you?"

Priya still had bed head—and looked a little hungover—but she smiled. "Alright. My cousins won't let me sleep in. How are you? What are you doing?"

"We're having a party. Everyone say hi!" Shea turned her phone around, and everyone said hello and waved.

"Hey," Priya said, her voice sounding a little flat. "Sorry, I'll let you go. Looks like you guys are having fun!"

"No, no!" Shea shakily climbed onto her feet. "I'll go upstairs and we can talk."

"Boo! Don't go!" Ben called after her.

Shea ignored him and ascended the stairs. "So what's up? How are you?"

Just as she thought she was in the clear, Sam thundered behind her. "Wait! Wait for me!"

Shea and Sam spent what felt like five minutes—but was really almost an hour, long enough to make her buzz vanish—catching up with Priya. Sure, Shea had spent over an hour on a Skype call with her on Christmas morning, but it felt like forever since they last talked. Shea told her friend about her genius New Year's party plan and how everything was going so smoothly. Naturally, Sam had to warn, "Don't tempt fate."

Shea didn't think much of his statement right away. But when they came back into the living room, she found an actual party.

Her heart stopped beating. The party had swelled, with a dozen or so new faces laughing and drinking loudly and sloppily all over the living room. This was not what she and Rodrick had planned. And yeah, it was only ten something, but what if more people came? What if they made a mess, and didn't leave when they needed to? The anxious monster in her chest roared back to life, and the feeling made her nauseous.

Shea found Rodrick in the kitchen, talking animatedly with a stout guy with a thick unibrow. When she approached, Rodrick gestured wildly at her.

"Ah, Ward, this is Shea. Shea, Ward," he said.

Shea quickly squeezed Ward's hand, which was warm and a little bit sweaty. To Rodrick, she teased, "You're drunk already?"

"You're not drunk enough. Here." He handed her a full cup. "I made you a drink."

"Thanks," she said reluctantly. A quick whiff indicated that it was another rum and coke. "Hey, can we talk?"

"Anything for you, babe," he said, grinning widely. Shea scrunched her nose in disapproval at being called babe, but the expression went unnoticed by her boyfriend. "See you later, man."

Once Ward was gone, Shea asked, failing to keep her voice calm, "Where did all these people come from?"

"We invited some people," Rodrick said simply. "This party is killer. You were right. This was a great idea."

"How are we going to get all of these people out before your parents come home?" she asked nervously. "And what if it gets loud like last time, and someone calls the cops and—"

Rodrick cut her off. "Relax. Have your drink. Everything will be fine."

"But—" Shea liked having control better than she liked theory. Of course, drunk Rodrick didn't agree.

"Come on. I think they're playing Kings again. Let's go have fun." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and forced her into the living room.

Shea hated Westmore High parties. More specifically, she hated the people that came to these kinds of parties: loud, drunk punk rock students with absolutely no regard for Shea's personal space or the fact that she wanted a small quiet shindig with her friends.

Playing Kings in a room full of strangers was definitely not as fun as Rodrick promised. She had no problem divulging details about her sex life or embarrassing mistakes when it was her friends, but she didn't feel right putting down a finger when Ward admitted, "Never have I ever had sex in a car."

And Rodrick asked, "Does the van count?"

And the group said, "Yup."

So Shea, her face burning at the idea of strangers imagining her straddling Rodrick in the back seat of his van, joined Sam, Lindsay, and Nicole on the other side of the living room for less invasive conversation.

Shea tried to bury her anxiety. She really did. She knew that, in the grand scheme of things, the night was still young and there would be plenty of time to clean up and make the house look normal again. But it seemed like every few minutes another person came strolling in the front door to an obnoxiously loud greeting; or another person splashed their drink on the carpet; or the volume on the radio (audition song still undecided) crept higher. Shea nursed her drink, but the alcohol made her feel more stressed than anything.

"This is out of control," she sighed, nervously running her fingers through her hair.

Her friends frowned sympathetically. "There are a lot more people than Sam said there'd be," Nicole agreed.

"It'll be alright, boo," Sam said soothingly. "And if not, we can always leave. Rodrick's clearly having a great time without you."

Shea knew that Sam didn't mean for his observation to sting, but her loneliness was potent that night. He wasn't wrong, though; Rodrick was completely consumed by his friends and what a "killer" party they were throwing. She wondered if she slipped outside now if he would even notice.

Just then, Greg came bounding down the stairs and made a beeline for the kitchen. Before he made it, though, he was stopped by one of the many spiky haired punk boys still playing Kings. Shea's heart raced. She didn't want Greg or any of his friends to get pulled into this mess.

"Nah, man, don't make a new one. Take mine. I don't want it anymore," he offered Greg his drink, his arm shaking.

Greg nervously took the red cup and smelled. His eyes widened with disgust. "What is this?"

"Vodka and Sprite. Go on, give it a sip," the guy egged.

Greg looked to Rodrick for confirmation, but his brother was too involved in conversation with Ben and Chris to notice. Greg tentatively brought the cup to his lips and was about to take a sip when Shea exploded.

"Don't!" she charged Greg, who looked shell-shocked at her volume. The crowd beside her was seizing with laughter, even when she turned on them. "What the hell were you thinking? That's not funny!"

"Aw, relax, I wasn't gonna let him have all of it," the guy slurred.

Shea was so angry, especially at being repeatedly told to relax, that she thought she could scream. She noticed Rodrick was avoiding her pointed stare, so she fought for herself. "He shouldn't have any of it. He's still a kid, you piece of shit."

The boys on the floor ooh'ed like children do when a classmate gets called to the principal's office.

Greg shifted nervously in his spot next to Shea. "I just want a soda," he muttered.

"They're in the fridge," Shea said, her voice thin. Greg looked relieved for the chance to escape.

"Booze is on the counter!" the guy shouted after Greg.

"You're not funny," Shea said acidly.

Rodrick finally met her glance; if he hadn't, she was sure she was going to burn a hole through his skull.

"Yeah, man, leave him alone," he said unconvincingly.

Another guy made a whip cracking sound with his mouth. The rest of the boys, minus Ben and Chris, lost it.

Shea's anger had reached peak levels. And whenever that happened, for some stupid reason, she cried. She could feel her eyes getting hot, so she stormed out through the kitchen and into the backyard. The freezing December air literally took her breath away, but it was a welcome change from the thick tension in the living room.

Sobs racked through her body so hard it hurt her lungs and throat, but it felt just as good as screaming. She must have stood outside for at least ten minutes trying to cool down—figuratively more than literally. She wasn't entirely sure why she was so angry, but the feeling seemed to be choking her. She couldn't believe those guys would try to give Greg a drink. In her mind's eye, Shea saw herself at Greg's age, halfway through a bottle of tequila and falling into the arms of any guy who said she was pretty. That was not a life she wished on anyone. Realistically, of course, that would never happen to Greg, but what if he liked the drink? Her stomach burned. All she wanted was a small party, not this shit show.

Shea took a few deep breaths and focused on calming down. She wished more than anything that Priya was in America so she could call her, but she knew that by now Priya would be covered in her cute Indian cousins. Once she felt a little less like murdering everyone inside, Shea checked the time; it was almost eleven.

Inside, she could hear the bass from the radio thumping, which meant someone turned up the music to maximum volume. The sound made her grit her teeth. Fine, she thought angrily. If Rodrick wasn't going to stick to their plan, then she was going to bail this fast-sinking ship. She would just need to find a way to get him alone.

It was like he had sensed she was thinking about him. Rodrick slipped out the back door, carrying two drinks. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Shea hastily wiped the remaining tears off of her face. She took a deep breath, steadying her voice. "I think I'm gonna go home."

He pouted. "How come? Everyone's having a great time."

"No, dude, this isn't what I wanted tonight. I wanted it to be us and our friends and a few drinks. This—" She pointed inside. "This is out of control. Someone's gonna call the cops. And even if they don't, your friends are a bunch of dicks, and I'd rather freeze my ass out here all night rather than hang out with them."

"They're not that bad." Rodrick joked, "Better with a few drinks in you."

Shea gave him a wild look. "Really?"

"I dunno, Shea. Here." She took a cup from him just so he wouldn't spill it all over himself. "Stay for a little bit. You'll have fun."

"I tried that already and it didn't happen. I'm going home."

"Why are you so uptight tonight?"

Shea knew Rodrick would never say that to her when he was sober. She also had a feeling one of his shitty friends probably called her that soon after she stormed out of the room and the word wriggled into his brain, so she decided to let it slide.

She persisted, "I'm upset, okay? Have fun tonight, but remember your parents are coming home around one."

"Shea," he pleaded, "Stay, please. Have a drink."

"Why do you want me to drink so badly?"

"You'll relax," he insisted.

"Alcohol doesn't solve every problem."

Rodrick said, his tone playful, "You used to think so five years ago."

Shea reacted so quickly she didn't have time to think about what she was doing. She threw her drink into Rodrick's face, hurled the empty cup at his chest, and then stormed inside, past the guys in the kitchen, past the crowd still sitting on the living room floor, and up to Sam, who was still talking with Lindsay and Nicole.

"Are you okay to drive?" she asked, her voice shaking.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm alright. Are you okay?"

"I need to go," she said urgently. The last thing she wanted was for Rodrick to walk into the living room and make a scene about what she had just done. "Now."

Sam sprung into action. "Okay, come on."

Lindsay and Nicole wordlessly followed them out into the front yard and piled into Sam's back seat. After Shea buckled herself in, she concentrated on steadying her shaking limbs.

She asked again, "Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

"Yeah. I only had those drinks at the beginning," he said, starting the engine. "I've already pissed them out."

"Hey, can you drop us off at my house?" Lindsay asked.

"Yeah, sure," Sam said, pulling onto the street. "So what happened?"

Shea's anger couldn't be properly channeled into words just yet. "I am so fucking mad."

"Well, yeah. But why?" Lindsay prompted.

And even though she thought she had control, her anger turned to tears again. "I just wanted this to be a small party with people I liked," she sobbed, "and Rodrick wasn't listening at all when I told him I didn't think having all these people over was a good idea. So he comes outside and tries to get me a drink because it will help me chill out or whatever."

"That's dumb," Nicole said.

"It gets worse," Shea said. She took a deep breath, steadying the stream of tears, and continued, "So I tell him alcohol doesn't solve every problem, right? I just want to go home. And he says…"

"What?" Lindsay asked.

The words made her want to throw up. "You used to think that five years ago."

The car collectively groaned, "Ew!"

"That is so shitty," Sam muttered.

"He's super drunk, so I'm sure he just wasn't thinking, but—" Shea said.

Lindsay cut her off. "No excuses. You don't say that to someone who had an addiction problem."

Shea's blood turned to ice. "Yeah, you're right."

The car quieted down. Sam didn't have his radio on, so it was only the sound of her thoughts and the tires against the road. Shea wasn't ready to listen to her chattering mind, so she pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket with the intention of messaging Priya and saw a new text message from Rodrick. She was surprised that he was reaching out to her so quickly—every other time they argued, she usually didn't hear from him until the next day or two. But he was drunk… and she did leave rather dramatically. There were exceptions to every rule.

"What'd he say?" Sam asked when he noticed the glow of her screen.

Shea read, "Did you leave?"

Nicole laughed lowly. "Seriously?"

"Ignore it." Lindsay said acidly, "Did you leave? God…"

Her friends didn't have to tell her twice. She flipped her phone upside down and tried to focus on Lindsay and Nicole, who were now thoroughly abusing one of Nicole's needy exes who pulled a similar stunt. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart, when her phone rang.

"He's calling," Shea reported.

"Nope," Sam said.

Shea hit ignore. Rodrick's sudden persistence in needing to speak with her made her feel a little bad about being so cold… that is, until she remembered what an awful thing he said to her and how out of control the night got. Her heart tightened and burned with anger. She resigned to talk to him when she calmed down. If she calmed down.

No more than a minute later, he texted again.

"This is getting pathetic," Sam sighed. "What's it say?"

Shea squinted at the screen, trying to distinguish exactly what some of his misspellings meant. "Sorry, he's a little hard to read when he's drunk. I think it's… Please pick up next time I need to talk to you."

As she finished reading, her phone rang again. Her minor guilt suddenly swelled, and she wondered aloud, "Jesus. Should I just see what he wants?"

"He's drunk. He's not going to have anything real to say," Lindsay said matter-of-factly. "Trust me on this. He'll beg you to come back over and when you do nothing will change."

Shea did trust her friend's judgment—after all, she had dated Rodrick once too. Still, she felt like she needed to say something to him.

"I'm gonna text him and tell him to leave me alone," she announced.

Nicole made a noise of disapproval, but Sam resigned, "Eh, yeah, otherwise he might keep blowing up your phone."

"Be direct," Lindsay advised. To Sam, who was slowly pulling up to the curb in front of her house, she said, "Here's good, Sam. Thanks."

So Shea quickly typed and read, "I really don't want to talk to you right now."

"Sounds good," Lindsay said. She squeezed Shea's shoulder as she and Nicole stepped out of the car. "Text me if he doesn't get the hint, okay?"

Shea wondered how annoying Rodrick planned on being. The thought made her sad heart nervous. "Okay."

Sam flipped on the radio for the rest of the drive home; Shea turned her phone on silent and put it back in her coat pocket. Even though it'd barely been 15 minutes, it felt like eternities since the party—especially the beginning, when she was having fun. She couldn't believe that threw a drink in Rodrick's face. God, did she actually do that? She was bold, for sure, but that was a move she only saw in the movies. Still, it felt kind of therapeutic. And he deserved it. Asshole.

Shea's apartment was pitch black, save for the light from the stove, which her dad always forgot to turn off. Sam fell onto the couch and fumbled for the remote, talking excitedly about watching Ryan Seacrest count in the New Year with tons of overhyped celebrities.

"Yeah, sure, sounds like fun," Shea said, forcing a smile.

Sam was channel surfing when Shea disappeared into her bedroom to change into pajama pants. She threw her phone on her bed with every intention of not looking at it. She knew it would only hurt—or worse, make her angrier. But once she'd changed, she couldn't help herself. Seeing Rodrick's name flash across her screen made her heart race the same way it did when they first started talking. Only this time, her anxiousness was from frustration, not a crush.

Rodrick had sent a few messages while Sam and Shea were driving home: "they lfffft" "plsz com bck" "i love you"

Shea had a hard time believing that he managed to kick out all of those drunk guys. More than that, she wasn't sure if it was fate or bad irony that the only text he managed to spell right was "I love you." But some of her anger evaporated with those words. She hadn't been this angry for this long in a while and her body was already exhausted from it.

"Oh my god, Shea, this interview is so awkward!" Sam laughed from the living room. "You gotta come here."

Shea jumped like she had been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to, even though Sam hadn't seen her. She held her phone close and yelled back, "Just a sec!"

Her brain wasn't sure what the right thing to say to Rodrick was, so she listened to her gut. "I love you too dude. but i'm not coming back out tonight."

Shea wasn't sure it captured her pure emotional energy, but she also didn't want to start a fight. She shut off the light in her bedroom, darkening the wall of posters and photos of friends and Rodrick. Sam was completely stretched out on the couch, so Shea perched on the armchair next to the window. She tried to watch as Ryan Seacrest stumbled awkwardly through an interview with some huge pop singer Shea had never heard of (she had a feeling Rowley would know), but her mind wouldn't stop nagging her to check her phone.

"y?" was all Rodrick said.

Really? Did he forget already? Shea bit her lip, careful not to look too obvious next to Sam, and replied, "i dont like u very much right now"

Rodrick replied quickly, which made her wonder if maybe he had gotten rid of the others. "i shud b the ine who doesnt lik u"

Shea recoiled and burst, "What?"

"I know!" Sam cackled. "This lady does not wanna be talking to… oh, you're not watching."

Shea didn't even care that she got caught red handed. She tossed her phone to her friend. "Read this."

Sam quickly scrolled through the latest texts and rolled his eyes. "God, just ignore him."

Shea knew that was the right thing to do, but something inside her sparked. She needed to respond, to defend herself.

When she got her phone back, she typed, "ur kidding right?"

Rodrick said, "u wipped me nd mad me different"

"yeah i held u against ur will in this relationship… right…"

"ur to uptite"

"u better shut up before u dig ur grave any deeper"

He replied, "wutever"

Whatever was right. Shea rolled her eyes and flipped her phone upside down. A few minutes later, she couldn't help but see if he sent anything else.

Rodrick said, "im an idiot"

So she confirmed, "yes."

Rodrick didn't reply to that. The adrenaline from the conversation made Shea felt like if she didn't move, she was going to burst. She paced the halls in her small apartment until Sam said her circles were making him anxious. The crowd on the TV was roaring, and the noise burrowed into Shea's mind until it became a soundtrack for her sudden misery. Rodrick was an asshole; he was such a jerk; how could he be so insensitive?

She checked her phone fifteen minutes later: nothing. The adrenaline in her veins vanished, leaving Shea feeling numb.

The clock struck midnight, and Sam cheered. Even Shea managed a smile and a hug with her friend. 2012 had barely begun, but she already couldn't wait for the year to be over.