Stefan's POV
The drive home was a blur—colors from the neon lights blending together, the beat from Marcus’s questionable speakers pounding in my head. I’d lost track after the eighth drink, something spicy and hot that left my throat sore and my thoughts all over the place. Every girl at that party felt like a bad copy of the one I really wanted. Faces were smiling and eyes were bright, girls grinding on me, hands everywhere, but none of them compared to her. None of them had that striking jawline or those f**k-me eyes that haunted me like a curse.
I turned off the car engine in the driveway, resting my forehead against the steering wheel for a minute. The house was dark except for some light coming from the kitchen. It was 3:17 a.m. Dad was flying somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. Ali
