"Oh my God!" the girl yelled, shooting into a sitting position. Her expressive blue eyes were registered somewhere between complete shock and pure anger.

Andy was a little relieved to find she was wearing a dark brown strapless bra and denim short-shorts. Things last night couldn't have gotten far. "My reaction exactly. Don't worry; I don't think we did anything…"

She wasn't paying attention. Instead, she got up out of the bed and started looking around the room for her clothes. "Oh man, what time is it? My parents are going to kill me when I get home…"

"Everyone's parents are going to kill them,' Andy said cautiously, throwing the covers back and getting out of bed. He zipped his jeans up. "And to answer your other question," he glanced down at his watch, which had somehow stayed on his wrist all night, "It's ten after seven."

The girl turned and gave him a look that could kill. There was no doubt that she was pissed off at him and the whole situation. Andy found himself retracting a little at the glare, and at the same time, he couldn't fail to notice how pretty her eyes were. "You," she said, jabbing a finger at Andy's chest, "You better damn well hope nothing happened last night. You probably spiked my drink."

Andy held up his hands. "I didn't. The last thing I remember is the girl at the bar telling me some guys from North Shore spike drinks to be assholes. The next thing I know, we're in here." Seeing her narrow her eyes he added, "Swear on my mother's grave."

She glared at him for a second more, then gave an annoyed sigh and turned around to find her clothes. "You really shouldn't say stuff like that about your parents."

Andy felt a familiar pang of anger and sadness. "Actually," he said, going over to a green couch to find his own clothing, "My mom died when I was little. She had cancer."

In the mirror reflection, he saw her stop. There was a long silence that followed. "I'm sorry." The redhead finally said.

Andy shrugged. "It's okay. I was little, so I don't remember her much. I take it you have both of your parents?"

"Yeah."

"Ah," Normally he hated people giving him the pity treatment for his mom's death, but with everything happening it was the last worry on his mind. He paused for a second to look back at her in the mirror. "I do swear, though."

"I believe you. Something freaky must've happened last night though," she managed to crack a grin as she gestured to the Abercrombie denim, "These aren't my shorts."

Andy choked back a laugh. "Wow," he said, glancing over at a dark brown chair. He noticed a piece of clothing lying on it. "So," held up a pair of white jean shorts splattered with red paint (the same shade as her hair), "I'm assuming these are yours."

"Yeah. Here, I'll trade you." She held out his gray Savage garden t-shirt Andy had gotten in a thrift store.

Silently, the two grabbed their respective articles and got dressed. The girl found her shirt (a long silvery tank with a jagged hem and a red ribbon around the waist), and Andy located both of their shoes and his glasses. Once he had them back on, he gave the girl another once over. She looked familiar; more so than a random stranger he would've woken up in bed with. "So," he said to break the awkward silence, "Do you go to Gardenia High? I haven't seen you around."

"Huh," she seemed to have forgotten Andy's presence. "Oh – yeah, I do. I was in private for middle school and freshman year, but it kind of got…expensive. I got sick a few days ago, so I missed the start of classes."

"Ah, cool. You just looked familiar is all. I guess I was wrong…"

"No, no - you're right. I thought I'd seen you before; your dad works at the fire station, right? Jack Picolli?"

Andy turned back to look at her, silently studying her face. He couldn't believe how clear her skin was, considering Mitzi always had something covering up her breakouts. After a second he realized besides a touch of mascara, the girl had no makeup on whatsoever. And she was…really nice looking.

He quickly shook the thought out of his head as he clicked the pieces in his head. "Oh yeah your…Mike Holloway's daughter, right? Uh…Brystal?"

"Bloom," she corrected. "And you are...Andrew?"

"Just Andy now," he clarified. The girl's image suddenly made sense to him; back when he was little, a bunch of kids with parents at the fire station would always hang out in the breakroom after school. It was part of a program, but it was also a way Andy had made other friends. He hadn't been there since he was nine and started spending his after school hours at guitar practice.

He remembered Bloom though. She was always talking to everyone, trying to make friends and reading fairy stories with the other girls. Besides her nose and hair color, she looked like a totally different person. "Wow, I haven't seen you in years."

"I know. You never come by the station anymore."

"Well do you?" he asked as though the station was as interesting as a Geometry lecture.

There was a pause, and Bloom placed a hand on her hip. "Yeah, I do."

Andy raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Are you grounded or something? Or do your parents just hate you and expect you to be a loser around there for your whole life?" He was trying to be flippant, but his tone had a bit more malice than expected.

Her eyes narrowed. "My Mom runs the flower shop on Akin Avenue, so I go over to the station after school to do homework and help out with the other kids. Is that too lame for you?"

He blushed. "I didn't mean…"

"Of course not," she said coldly. Bloom took one of his shoes and tossed it to him. It was a hard throw, forcing Andy to catch it like a football to decrease the force of the blow. "I remember hearing about you once," she continued, turning to a mirror and trying to put her bangs back in place, "When I was down at the mall some girl was gossiping about you, saying you were nothing but a smooth talker. I wish I would've listened a little more; maybe I wouldn't have come here." With a single movement she spun around and went to the door, throwing it open. Sounds cascaded into the room; post-drunk rambling, calls to parents, and stories from people who actually remembered the night.

Bloom threw Andy another glance. "And just to tell you; my parents didn't want me. I'm adopted." With that, she stalked out the door.

Oh shit. Andy grabbed his other navy blue Converse and jammed it onto his foot. As he went through the doorway, he noticed that one of the candles that was resting on the vanity below the mirror was lit and blazing bright. He raised an eyebrow; he had been over there to retrieve his glasses and he'd sworn the candle had been long since extinguished (and it would've noticed; he was nearsighted after all). He didn't have time to think about it, though, and raced out of the room after Bloom.

Andy stopped for a moment as he rounded the hallway. There were random kids around, sitting against walls and talking, some racing to the bathroom to puke up whatever had been consumed last night. It looked like the hallway of a college dorm room instead of a four million dollar mansion (at least, that's what Mitzi bragged it was worth). He found himself on a balcony overlooking some informal living room. On the left side there were stairs that he assumed led downstairs, along with a desk covered with papers and a computer (which currently had a Wii remote through the screen). The right wall was an entirely made to be a bookshelf; the only other thing in the shelving was a giant T.V. Suede couches and armchairs were in the space, some together in makeshift beds and some torn.

"Morning."

Andy turned around to find Rio coming up behind him, rubbing his right eye, "It's not just me right?"

Andy didn't need an elaboration. "No. I remember up to getting the drinks. You?"

"Heading to the car with Mark, then by the pool hitting on some dark haired girl. I have a feeling she's no longer a virgin…well, that's a hunch. She bitch-slapped me in the hall, so I'm just assuming I did something. And you…the last I saw of you, my friend, you were getting some major lip action with some redhead. Well, more like trying to de-sanitize her neck with your tongue, but the same thing." He paused. "You wouldn't happen to know where my shirt is, would you?"

He rolled his eyes. Rio's actions surprised him and yet we're so within his attitude, Andy wasn't sure whether to be upset or dismiss his actions. He settled for dealing with it later. "Great. You wouldn't have happened to see that redhead, would you?"

"She might have been the one storming off down the hallway. I think she went," he lifted his hand, pointing to the stairs, and before he could finish his sentence, Andy was off down the stairs. "That way," he finished, watching Andy with interest. "All right then…thanks Rio, I appreciate it…no problem Andy, glad to help."

"Hey," a voice behind him said, "If you'd stop talking to yourself, you'd be able to go and see that crazy pink haired girl who's passed out halfway over the balcony."

Rio's eyes widened. "Oh my god, Roxy!"

He turned and raced down the hall.

The stairs led Andy into a gourmet kitchen. Surprisingly, he found a group of teens raiding the fridge, looking for something to snatch up before hitting the road. He also noticed Elle was part of them, but he forgot the second he saw a flash of red disappear through an open archway. "Wait," Andy said, going through the space after her, "Bloom!"

"Can you please leave me alone?" she asked, not turning around, "I think I've had enough 'fun' with you for my lifetime."

The fifteen year old refused to take no for an answer. He reached out and grabbed her wrist in one fluid movement, spinning her around to face him. The action itself seemed much more 'Hollywood' due to the fact that the floor beneath them was polished wood with some fluid spilled over it, so Bloom did a full 180 degree turn and almost crashed into Andy. She had to put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, but dropped it back down to her side the moment she could. Her eyes looked pained. "What, Andy?"

He sighed, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make some comment about your parents. But if you went back about three minutes before that, you'd remember you accidentally took a jab at my parents, too."

She yanked her wrist out of his grasp. "There's a difference Andy. Your mother didn't choose to leave, but my parents did. And yes, maybe they didn't have a choice, maybe they had to do it, but there is no information, there was nothing. I didn't exist before Mike and Vanessa adopted me; no birth records, no cliché 'I'm sorry we can't take care of you' letter, no family heirloom, nothing. No one had heard of me, knew me. All I've got is the knowledge that I might be partially Italian."

"Maybe they didn't have a choice about giving you away. You know the whole thing about having too many kids and you're already poor…"

"But why not keep contact? Why disappear? Why be ashamed of me?"

"If anyone's ashamed of you, they'd have to be complete idiots." The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he said.

Bloom looked just as surprised as him. Her gaze softened a little. "I…well, I mean…thanks."

Andy nodded, still surprised. "Yeah."

She sighed, "Look, it's probably just stress affecting me. I never go on about my birth parents like that. I've got Mike and Vanessa, and that's enough. I wouldn't care if they'd come back for me. In fact, I'm sure I wouldn't want to see them."

He nodded. "That's very…brave of you."

"I guess," she said, still sounding a little cold, "I mean, I'll play out all these dramatic scenarios in my head, but they're just movie plotlines. Too much drama for real life."

"Unless you count the Real Housewives of New Jersey."

"Yeah," as she said this, Andy made a mental note that she didn't find his wisecracks funny. Her eyes were rolling a little, and she was biting her top lip. Everyone he knew cracked up at his jokes; in fact, no one had ever found his Housewives bit unfunny. Bloom was definitely not as dim witted as one of Mitzi's clones. Or as easily charmed. As he debated this, he barely heard her voice; "Well, it was…nice seeing you again Andy, but I really should be going." And without waiting for a reply, she turned and started walking again.

"This girl should count as my cardio in P.E. for a week," Andy muttered to himself before racing to catch up with her again. "Wait!"

"What is it now?" Bloom asked, an irritated quality evident in her voice.

Though he already had doubts about his offer, he spoke; "Do you need a lift home or something? I mean if you're only a freshman you can't possibly have your license…"

To his surprise, he heard her chuckle. Granted, it was kind of a sarcastic laugh, but he'd made her laugh. "Newsflash hotshot, Gardenia isn't that big of a city. And even if it was, I rode with Anna. She lives next door to me."

Anna Ellis, of course. Hadn't Mitzi mentioned a redhead showing up with her last night? Andy assumed now it was Bloom. "So anyway," she continued, "I'd consider lying low for a while, because even if I lie to my parents about what I woke up in – or with, I should say; my Dad will be stalking any guy acquaintance I have; that includes you."

"You think that scares me?"

"No," Bloom replied, turning to face him with a grin, "But you should keep in mind that both of our fathers have been trained to use axes. Now, for the third and final time, goodbye, Andy Picolli. Please never write."

Andy suddenly realized they were standing at the front door. He watched Bloom give him a sarcastic wink, and then disappear out of the mahogany doors. After a few seconds, he walked over and slipped out the doors, just as Bloom headed over to the array of sports cars and SUV's that were parked in the front of the house (several were crushing delicate looking rose bushes). He spotted Mark's car, but his eyes stayed on Bloom as she headed towards Anna, who was out talking with some other people. He saw at that moment that Bloom was different from any other girl he'd seen. In what way he wasn't quite sure, but she was different.

And he liked it.

"Andy? Hello…?"

"Huh," he finally realized a hand was waving in front of his face. He found it was Mark, looking very tired, "Oh hey, how long have you been here?"

"About ten seconds. What's with you? Hangover?"

"Don't remind me," he muttered, suddenly realizing his head was throbbing, "It was just this girl…"

Mark's eyes widened. "Did you knock someone up last night?"

"No."

His friend paused. "Did you want to?"

Andy shook his head; not in a 'no' gesture, but just to express his confusion. "I…"

"Hey, check out that girl on the balcony!" someone shouted from the group of teenagers pushing a car out of a rose bush.

Andy and Mark looked up to see a girl dangling dangerously over the upstairs balcony, halfway clinging to a flagpole, and possibly wearing just short shorts and a black lace bra. Add in the fact that her hair was pink and there was a boy trying to get her down, the odds were incriminating.

"Roxy!" both boys yelled, racing back into the house.

Don't sweat it, forget it; everything is a-ok
Just let it know that it's all to find another face
I make you come just to watch you leave, you walk around with my heart on your sleeve
Don't sweat it, it's over now; our time ran out…

A Party Song (The Walk of Shame) [All Time Low]