I lumbered out of the bedroom in a daze. I was too drunk to be depressed, but sober enough to know I wasn't going to get laid – and that was fairly depressing. My head hung low as I started down the stairs to find my buddies. Considering the circumstances, I'd have to get moving if I was going to find a ride home before my parents caught me.

"Hey, you okay?"

I looked up and realized I was halfway down the stairs and face-to-face with Ms. Red Plaid Skirt. Oh shit. Nice.

"Uh, yeah, just…um…" I couldn't think of anything else to say. My girlfriend just dumped me? Nah. Even alcohol couldn't blind me from seeing that was a bad way to start the conversation.

"I just saw, um, your girlfriend, I think? Emma? She left with Soren. Were you looking for her?"

I sighed. "No. I'm pretty she left without me on purpose." I shut my eyes and rubbed my forehead with my fingers.

"Oh. Sorry."

Suddenly I was irritated. This girl had hardly spoken two words to me since my apology; why the fuck was she suddenly being all Little House on the Prairie?

"Do you need something? Because in case you didn't work this out on your own, I have to find a ride."

She scoffed. "Excuse me, I was just trying to be nice."

"Really. So your bitchy side just suddenly took a hike? Get out of my way, I have to find my friends."

She faltered as I shoved my way past her and down the stairs.

"I'm sorry," she called after me.

I stopped in my tracks, turned, and gazed up at her in confusion.

"I'm sorry I was jerk before. I didn't mean to, I just…it's a long story." I recalled how she had flinched when I grabbed her arm at school the week before. I remembered having the distinct impression that she had been grabbed like that before – in far less ideal circumstances.

I paused to consider her apology. This shitty night was already down the toilet, giving her a break certainly wasn't going to make it any worse. "It's okay," I relented, "It's not like I gave you any reason to be nice to me…"

She smiled. I'd never seen her smile before. It was really nice. And kinda…hot.

"It was an accident. It happens."

Is it her drunkenness making her so nice to me all of a sudden, I wondered? No, she looked stone sober to me. I turned to continue my quest for a ride home but she stopped me once again.

"Wait, you said you need a ride?"

I couldn't believe what was happening. This girl – this ridiculously hot and, frankly, exasperating girl – who wouldn't give me the time of day just a few days ago was offering me a ride home. Was I going to say no?

Fuck no.

"Yeah…" I waited. She didn't respond. My shoulders fell. Maybe I'd read her wrong. Strike two for the evening.

"I can give you a ride," my eyes lit up again, "I just have to make sure my friend has another way to get home. I'll go find her, just meet me by the front door."

I watched closely as she sashayed away, that black skirt hugging her ass in just the right way. Yep, this was the kind of girl I wanted to be taking home. I sauntered over to the front door, my spirits lifted and all thoughts of Emma dissipated. Perhaps it was good luck that she ran off on me. With Soren, I thought. That dickhead. I'll have to be sure to accidentally hit him in the nuts with the basketball in gym class next week.

A few minutes later, Ms. Red Plaid Skirt returned, that sexy grin gently painted on her face once again. I couldn't stop staring at her. She was a fucking model that night.

"Okay, I'm good. Let's get you home before you ralf all over the place."

I laughed. "Yes, ma'am".

I followed her out to her car – an old red Honda Wagovan. How fitting. Hanging from the rearview mirror was a set of red plaid dice. I hopped in the passenger side and gave them a flick.

"What's with all the red plaid?"

"I'm surprised you noticed," she began. I flushed. I hoped she'd think it was just the beer. "I've always liked plaid since I was a little girl. I had to go to Catholic school for a few years – that sucked big-time. But after we finally moved and I got to switch to public school, I kind missed those skirts. They're cute."

Hell yes, they are. "Catholic school, eh? You hardly seem the type."

She giggled. Oh. My. God. How I loved that sound. "You got that right. If we hadn't moved I'm quite sure I would've burned down the entire school."

"Quite sure?" I couldn't help my incredulity (yes, that's a very big word for me; my English teacher, Ms. Burwyn, should get an award), "What are you suddenly a Brit or something?"

"My parents are." Oh, oops. "There are some words that slipped into my vocabulary, I guess."

Well this girl was something else. Exotic. Different. Intriguing (score another one for Ms. Burwyn).

I drilled her all the way to my house – her family, her background, her hobbies, her future plans… I wanted to know it all. And despite my slurred language, she actually answered my questions. Her parents moved to the U.S. after they got married for a job her father found; he worked in business development. So she was born here, moved around a bit, but was last in Boston. They moved here just a few years ago – she switched to my high school this year because she wanted to be on the track team and our school had won the past few state competitions. She was a pole vaulter.

There's pole vaulting in high school?

I was so caught up in our conversation that I completely forgot about the fact that I had snuck out earlier and would potentially be returning home to a huge pile of Angry Dad. She pulled up in front of my house.

"I'm such an idiot," I said, "I still don't even know what your name is. Wait, it's British, right? Let me guess…" I feigned deep thought. "Greta? Beatrix?"

She giggled again. I had to get more of that giggle. "Let's see…Clementine? Gwendolyn?" I had her rolling in all-out laughter now. I loved the way her little nose crinkled when she tried to stifle giggles.

"No! Just stop, okay! My parents aren't that cruel." She paused to pull herself together. "It's Saffron." She extended her hand. I looked at her in disbelief. Really? What a terrible name!

"Well, that's a much nicer name," I lied.

She smirked. "I was kidding. Do you seriously thing that's a nice name? I think it's awful."

She had me. I hung my head in shame. "I hate it too. Damn, these manners get me every time." I turned back to her. "Seriously, though, what's your real name?"

"Athena. Athena Devine."

Athena Devine (pronounced duh-veen for you who haven't been lucky enough to have Ms. Burwyn). God, even her name is perfect.

"I'm Teddy Grey."

"I know."

I stared for a moment, letting myself get lost in her. I felt myself leaning forward. Fuck, what was I doing? But I couldn't stop it. I just wanted one small taste of those lips...

A flash of light startled me and I covered my eyes from the glare. We looked out the back window to see a black Audi pulling into the driveway.

Shit. Mom and Dad are home.