Zoe's POV
Must there always be something shocking waiting every time I set foot into Jason's house?
This wasn't a party, not a simple hangout. Not even close.
It was a slow-motion disaster — a gathering of spoiled teenagers who looked like they had nothing left to lose. Laughter too loud, music too low, the air thick with cigarette smoke that burned my lungs with every breath. A dozen half-empty bottles lay scattered across the glossy floor tiles like broken promises.
My pace slowed. I didn't know whether to move forward or turn back. This wasn't the hangout I'd imagined. It wasn't even my kind of crowd.
Did Jason's parents really not care about what happened in this mansion? Or maybe they just weren't home — like always.
The drink in my hand was fine, but the smell of smoke clawed at my throat. My stomach twisted.
And then — my jaw nearly dropped.
Guz.
What in the world?
