Ivy’s POV
If I had known how the night would end, I would’ve stayed home in my pajamas, binge-watching bad reality TV and eating Nutella from the jar.
But no. Instead, I let myself get dragged to some high school reunion house party hosted by my best friend Maddie—complete with too much alcohol, too many hormones, and, apparently, no boundaries.
“Come on, Ivy, lighten up. It’s just a party,” Maddie sang as she handed me a red solo cup filled with something that tasted like soda spiked with regret. I took a cautious sip and scanned the living room, already full of bodies grinding against each other and the loud thump of music rattling the floorboards.
And then I saw him.
Leaning against the kitchen doorway like he owned the d*mn place. A beer bottle in hand. Black shirt stretched acros
