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OPAL'S POV

"Hey, Opal," Ethan grins, leaning against my door. "Can I come in?"

"Uh—why?" I ask, keeping the door mostly shut. "Don't you have a party you should be at?"

I really, really wish they didn't know we were neighbors. "To talk. It'll be like, five minutes."

Signing, I open the door and move aside for him to come in. "Uh, Opal, what's he doing here?" Celia says, getting up from her seat. "Dolan, get out."

"It's fine, Lia," I murmur, turning toward him. "What did you want to talk about?"

"How do I convince you to come to this party?" He asks, crossing his arms.

"Why do you care, Ethan?" It's just a party, and it's not like I've ever been close with these two, or any of their friends.

Ethan shrugs his shoulders, and Celia rolls her eyes. "You must be way too drunk if you think either of us would ever come to one of your parties."

"Hey, I'm trying to be nice. Gray and I don't even drink," he huffs. "I might've been a little rude to you on the first day of school, Opal. And I figured it would be fun if you actually came, break out of your shell a little, y'know?"

He was inviting me to... ease his guilt because he felt bad about the first day of school? What he said wasn't even a huge problem—I was more upset about Grayson's jokes.

Plus, his insistence of breaking me out of my shell? Why? I was content being quiet.

"Julie is there," Ethan hums, glancing at Celia. She gapes, going to protest, "you stare at her every day in history. Anyone with eyes can see you've got it bad."

"Well, that's—okay, Opal, what if we just went for 30 minutes?" With a sigh, I nod. "I owe you."

I could do 30 minutes. People probably wouldn't even notice me if I hung by the side. The things I do for Celia...

Ethan grins, taking a seat and waiting for us to change. The second we're dressed, he's dragging us out my front door and toward his home.

"You're gonna get hot wearing a hoodie, Opal," he laughs, Celia ditching us the moment we're inside. "Let's get you a drink."

"But I—"

"One drink? It'll help you loosen up so you're not so nervous," he persuades, dragging me toward the kitchen. My heart was hammering, maybe a little buzz wasn't a bad idea. "And yes, it's obvious you're nervous." I watch carefully as he pours a few different things into a red solo up. "I'm not gonna roofie you, Opal. You don't have to watch my every move so closely. But you are gonna want to down this, because it's gonna taste nasty."

"If it's gross why do I have to drink it?" I sigh, peering into the cup. Scrunching up my nose, and ignoring my brain telling me not to, toss it back. "That was the worst thing I've ever tasted."

"You'll be feeling that in a few minutes," he laughs, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "C'mon, come with me."

"You don't have to babysit me," I mumble, watching as he reaches into his pocket for a set of keys. We head upstairs, and I start to get nervous again. "Why are we—"

"Just for you to leave your hoodie up here. It'll be safe in my room, and then I'll let you loose," Ethan promises. "If you need anything, come find me."

Originally I didn't want to take off my hoodie, but it was pretty warm. So I put it on his bed, followed him downstairs again, and was left to my own devices. Feeling uncomfortable, I slink away to a quiet corner.

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