"Ah, shit. Shit, shit, shit. He's gonna kill me."

It's the first thing I heard upon waking. My eyes cracked open and immediately snapped shut. Bright sunlight beamed through an open window, casting a painful ray across my face. My head throbbed, and it felt like a Mac truck had plowed straight over me, threw it in reverse, and hit me again for good measure. "Unf," I groaned, rolling face down into the pillows.

The pillows smelled like…like Febreze and something subtler, more…musty. My nose wrinkled as the realization set in…I wasn't in my bed.

"Fuck," I moaned, sitting straight up. My eyes focused through the brightness of the morning and on the stressed out looking man at the foot of the bed who stood, stark naked and confused.

Behind him, draped across the corner of his dresser, was a crumpled black tee-shirt. Choppy memories danced around in my head. Dancing in the crowd, being spun around by strangers, jumping around with Maya. A table riddled with mostly empty bottles and plastic cups.

This was the guy from the stage. The Raging…Dogs? Canines?

For the briefest moments, the entire situation felt hilarious. Me going home with some stranger. This was up Maya's alley. The wild child, the nymph letting the wind carry her, making decisions on the fly.

I was calm. More like the current, cutting down a predetermined path until something got in my way. Passive. In the background. Background…

The Canine Guy, realizing he was exposed, grabbed the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around his body.

Dread set in my stomach. There was only one rule in our house and that was to always come home. It didn't matter what happened or what kind of trouble, you always came home. Mr. Pelletier was going to kill me. I felt it.

"Oh no." I threw the covers off, scrambling to find my cell phone. "Oh no, oh no. I'm dead."

As if on cue, my cell phone blared. I recoiled at the harshness of the sound, smacking the screen until it fell quiet. 10 missed calls. 8 text messages.

The phone rang again.

"Ingrid! Do you know how long I've been trying to reach you? Where are you?"

The truth? I hadn't the slightest clue where I was or who I was with. I had no idea where Maya was, or Caleb, or…my clothes, I realized, looking down at the sheet that kept me from giving Canine Guy one hell of a show.

"Ingrid?"

Right. "Maya's!" Lies. "I'm over at Maya's. We left late last night and her house was closer so we just…I'm sorry, Dad."

He exhaled audibly in the phone. "Dammit, girl! You nearly gave me a heart attack. You know the rules. What if something happened to you? What would your moth-"

"-I'm fine. Everything's fine. I'll be home in a little while."

He cleared his throat. "Be sure you are. I'll stop by after work."

Tossing the phone to the side, I stood andgrabbed the pile of clothes next to the bed that resembled what I'd worn last night. "Could you…?" I wagged my hand toward him, signaling that he should turn around.

He nodded and turned sharply on his heel to face the door. "I'm, uh, I'm Seth by the way. Seth Clearwater. I don't think you ever asked last night."

Horrified and what that might mean, I shimmied back into my clothes and he turned around. This was the first time, that I could remember, that I got a good look at him.

Up close, he looked a lot younger in the face. My age, maybe 20 or 21. He was still cute in an innocent kind of way. Much different than the powerful man that I remembered from the show.

"Ingrid. Did we…?"

"No!" he shouted. "I mean, no, we didn't. We were definitely fully clothed when we fell asleep. Not that you're not attractive. I just mean—I, well, you were drunk and I don't drink and it just wouldn't have—"

I put my hand up to stop him. "My friend wouldn't happen to be here, would she?"

"Who? Oh, the curly haired one? She's in the kitchen with the others."

"Maya!" I grabbed my phone and darted out of his bedroom as if I knew exactly where I was. I just followed the sounds of laughter and clanking dishes through the hall until I got to an open door way. If this were any other day or situation, I might have been shocked at how many people were crammed into the tiny eat-in kitchen. It felt like it was spilling over with very athletic-looking men and women, ready to burst at the seams.

Spotting Maya next to an empty bar stool, I straightened my back and tried to act like I was sure of myself. "Hey, Maya, can I talk to you for a sec?" Grabbing her arm, I pulled her closer to the door and leaned in. "Can we go home now? I don't know how, but I woke up naked next to your little friend."

She giggled, her cheeks dimpling. "Sweetie, my car's not here."

I didn't get the joke.

"What do you mean 'not here,' then how did we get…here?" I tried to whisper, suddenly aware that it was much quieter now. I felt hot, like everyone's eyes were on me.

"Well, I don't know."

Good lord. Was she still drunk?

The woman nearest the stove cleared her throat. "Hi, you must be Ingrid. Maya said you'd be a little…out of sorts when you woke up." She grinned and walked from behind the counter with a full plate in her hands. She smiled and I realized that a pink scar ran along the side of her face from temple to chin. Her long, black hair was pulled into a neat braid over her shoulder. "I'm Emily."

My stomach growled obnoxiously as I looked at the spread on the plate—bacon, pancakes, fresh fruit. When was the last time I'd eaten? I blushed as my stomach growled again. "Well, waking up in a stranger's bed will do it to you."

"Tell me about it," the other woman said, snorting. Her dark brown hair was cut into a shaggy bob. She felt like fire to me, like there was a wicked streak that would give even Maya a run for her money. I liked her.

Maya elbowed me in the ribcage, smiling. "That's Leah. Her brother's the one you, er, you knowed."

Everyone it the room dissolved into snickers. "Did not!"

"Gross," Leah said, curling her lip back. "Can we not?"

I nodded and took the plate, thanking Emily, and sat down at the table. "At the risk of making this more awkward, where are we exactly?"

Emily smiled, patient. "You're on the reservation, Ingrid. La Push, actually."

I choked on the pancakes and Maya proceeded to smack me across the back. "R-reservation? Like, on the coast reservation? Like three hours from Seattle reservation?"

The guys in the room struggled to keep their laughter in, but lost all control when Seth stepped into the kitchen. "Ooooo! Hey, Seth! Did you have fun last night?"

Seth rolled his eyes. "Chill. She knows nothing happened. Whoever decided it'd be a good idea is getting their butts kicked."

I seconded that. What kind of prank was that? A drunken one, obviously.

There were so many people in the room that it started to feel claustrophobic. I wanted to go home and face the music, crawl in bed, and not get up for the next 30 years. I wanted to not be surrounded by strangers—not matter how much they fed me—while dressed in last night's clothes. I swallowed my bite of pancakes and looked to Emily. "Could I use your restroom?"

She nodded and showed me where to go. As quickly and casually, as I could, I rushed into the restroom and shut the door behind me. Unlocking my phone, I dialed Caleb's number and prayed to every god that was listening.

"Hello?"

Thank God. "Caleb! Can you come get me and Maya? We're somewhere called La Push?"

"Oh wow. Yeah, no problem." He coughed, trying to mask his amusement. "So, uh, how are you going to repay me?"

"Kiss my ass." I hung up the phone and grabbed the doorknob. Caleb was as unreliable as they came. It was beyond me why Maya and I still felt attached to him. "All right. This happens to everyone. Just act normal, get Maya, and find a way to get home."

Easy.

The door flew open without warning and cracked against my forehead, knocking me flat on my backside. I hissed, gripping my head and curling into the fetal position. Undoubtedly, this was a sign from the gods that today was not my day.

Resigned to my fate, I uncurled my body and sprawled out on the bathroom floor, shading my eyes with my hands. It was disgusting, I felt disgusting, but nothing in me could give a damn in that moment.

"Oh, shit, you okay?" The voice was even more unfamiliar than the cacophony of voices that streamed up the hall from the kitchen. How many people are in this house?

I moved my hands to see who the latest addition to the Brady Bunch was and, suddenly, life got a whole lot worse. I was even more aware that I looked like a hot mess and that this beautiful, shirtless man that stood before me probably thought I was in his way.

Do none of them own clothes? I wanted to ask but his warm brown eyes locked with mine and I was immobilized. He seemed to be just as frozen, unsure of what to say or do next. He shook his head and reached down to hoist me to my feet.

His hands were warm against the bare skin of arms, his grip firm but also restrained, like he could snap me in half if he wanted.

"Sorry," he whispered. "The door wasn't locked so I just—I should've knocked first."

I shook my head, dusting myself off and fighting off a sudden wave of dizziness. "You're fine—I mean, it's fine. Just a mild concussion, that's all." I chuckled uncomfortably, feeling very small under the weight of his gaze.

He carefully touched my forehead, where the door connected with my face and grimaced. The warmth seemed to ease the throbbing in my head, if only a little bit.

Before I realized it, I'd leaned into his hand. Into him.

"Uhm…" He laughed. "I'm Paul. I'm assuming you were with them at Seth's show last night?"

"Mhm," I murmured, eyes drifting closed. "Sorry. I think I'm in recovery mode. Did you go? I don't remember seeing you. Everything after '…formerly known as the Rezolutes' is a little hazy."

Paul cleared his throat. "We should probably get back…"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah." I knelt to grab my cell phone off the floor and headed back to the kitchen. Paul trailed behind me. "Didn't you have to use the restroom?"

"Huh?" He asked. "Oh. Yeah." Paul immediately turned on his heel and went back down the hall.

Odd. This whole morning was odd and I still wasn't sure how Maya and I were getting home but I felt a little better. Like Mr. Pelletier wouldn't lock me up and throw away the key. Like I wasn't in what had to be the most awkward predicament known to man.

Maybe it was the food, or the possible concussion, but I felt…good. Happy. Happier than I'd been in a long time.