"Don't make promises you can't keep."
---
Noah Reed is lost. Fed up with his constant attitude and need for self-destruction, his mother sends him to live out the rest of the year with his father in hop...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I'd almost forgotten how obnoxious parties can be.
Once upon a time, I knew how to throw a pretty decent rager. A few months before I moved here, I'd be sneaking out every other night to attend a party like the one I'm standing in the middle of now, finding myself in all sorts of trouble. There were the nights I'd get so stoned, I'd wake up with no recollection of how I'd ended up where I was. Then there were the nights that involved way too much alcohol, random girls, and blaring music.
Looking back on these memories, it's hard to believe I'd ever been that guy. The realization that I'm not quite that guy anymore hits me harder than I'd like to admit. Before moving to this sleepy town, I'd no doubt be enjoying this party, trying my hardest to wreck havoc. However, now that I'm here, I find myself glancing at my phone, wondering when a good time to go home would be.
Is it possible for a person to change without even realizing it? Is it possible that has happened to me? And for the better?
Regardless, it's clear I have changed, whether I'd been aware of the change or oblivious to it. I can tell I'm different because I'm acting different. I make no move to get my hands on any alcohol. There's a pack of cigarettes in my pocket I bought yesterday, yet still haven't bothered to open. I'm at a party, and I find myself wanting to leave. It's all so unlike me.
Trying to think of something else, my thoughts wander to Blake. I wonder if she's still planning to show up tonight, or if she's changed her mind. I contemplate calling her to make sure I didn't show up to this party for nothing, though that would mean I only came for Blake. However, I'm not sure I came for any other reason.
I decide to see if I can find Blake and Jess, making my out of the crowded living room and wandering into the kitchen. I don't spot Blake's familiar blond head or Jess's dark curls, so I exit the room and walk into the hallway.
The front door stays closed for a few seconds before bursting open again, a new wave of people entering the house, ready to down drinks and dance to lame pop music. When the door finally closes, I push off the wall I'd been leaning against. Reaching the entryway of another room, some girl stumbles into me. Her back hits me square in the front as she wobbles on her heels. Without thinking much of it, I extend an arm to steady her before she can fall flat on her face.
"Thank you!" the girl exclaims once she's regained her composure, glancing at me. "I'm so sorry, I—" The girl stops short, eyes wide as her expression turns to one of shock.
It isn't until I look into her warm brown eyes that realization sets in, and I find myself feeling just as shocked as the girl looks.
"Blake?" I question in disbelief, studying her closely. If it weren't for those eyes of hers, I'd never recognize the girl in front of me now as the girl I haven't been able to stop thinking about for days.
Tonight Blake's dirty blond hair is straight as a wire, which makes it appear longer. She wears more makeup than usual, and it doesn't look bad or anything—just different. I find myself absentmindedly thinking that Blake is beautiful, with makeup or not.
