Jen looked up from the bottle of rum, lowering it as she focused on Drue, leaning against the railing, one leg crossed in front of the other, his arms across his chest. "What fucking god did I offend?"

"Why, Jen Lindley, whatever do you mean?" He walked over to the deck chair next to hers and settled on it, sitting sideways so he was facing her. "You're looking particularly fucked up today."

"Wow. You're really a fucking charmer, aren't you?"

"And such a conversationalist." He took the rum bottle from her hand and took a shot. "Your parents don't have a problem with you sucking their liquor cabinet dry?"

"I don't know." She stood up, holding on to the back of her chair for support. "Why don't you fucking call them in New York and ask them?"

Drue followed Jen into the pale blue house, watching her with narrowed eyes as she stumbled down the steps to the sunken living room, intent on the bar. "Andie said you were here with your folks."

"Well, Andie would be wrong." Jen sneered in his direction. "Better not mention it to her, it's liable to send her back over the edge."

"You're just a ball of sunshine, aren't you?" Drue sank down on the plush, white leather couch and stretched his legs out in front of him. "What the fuck are you doing here, Lindley?"

"Why, whatever do you mean?" She turned, emptying the contents of the bottle into a glass. "I'm here to spend a bonding summer with my parents in the bosom of the Hamptons, where peace and harmony coexist with Streisand and Spielberg."

"Did anyone tell your parents?"

"You're a riot." Jen took a long pull from her glass, emptying half of it. "Why are you here?"

"My dad's got a place here."

"And the Hamptons have it all over Europe, is that it?"

"No." Drue smiled, refusing to let her vitriolic mood get to him. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink?"

"No."

Drue levered himself off the couch and brushed past her, heading for the bar. He mixed himself a drink then turned around, watching her glare at him. "You can't just believe I wanted to hang out with you?"

"No."

"Would you believe I got really tired of being around Perky McPhee all the time? The girl's like a leech." He smiled and took a sip of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass. "Once she latches on, you pretty much have to flee the country to rid yourself of her."

"I'm surprised she didn't make an honest man of you."

Drue's smile transformed into a smirk. "Nobody makes an honest man of Drue Valentine, Lindley. You of all people should know that." He left the bar and moved back to the couch, sinking down into it. He turned and met her gaze, refusing to look away. "I wanted a change."

"You wanted to get laid."

Drue let the silence hang between them, the corners of his mouth twitching. "You offering?"

Jen smirked and stalked to the opposite couch. "Not on your life."

Drue shrugged and finished off his drink. "You still haven't answered my question."

"I thought I was pretty clear that it'll be a cold day in hell before I fuck you, Drue."

"Wrong question." He grabbed one of the throw pillows, fingering it casually, watching her eyes as they followed his hands. "Why are you here?"

"Going existential, are we?" She shook her head and took another drink, finishing off what was in her glass. "You know, I don't recall inviting you in."

"You hate your parents, Jen. You can't stand them. Your father dicked you around and your mother treats you like you're a pariah. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"What the fuck do you care?" She stood up, her eyes narrowed and glistening with sudden tears. "Go the fuck away, Drue."

His voice dropped, lowered to a soft, intimate tone. "Why'd you let him talk you into this, Jen?"

"There's the door, Drue." Her voice was cold and hard. "Get the fuck out."

Drue looked up at the darkening sky as the outside lights came on, lighting the path that led down to the beach. He got off the edge of the deck and brushed off his jeans, glancing back over his shoulder at the wall of windows.

The inside lights were dimmed, but bright enough for him to see into the living room, Jen's blonde hair spread over the arm of the sofa. Pushing the sliding door open, he walked inside, not caring if he made any noise.

He walked down the hardwood steps and stopped at the edge of the couch, his foot glancing off the bottle that had rolled away from Jen's hand. "Jen?"

She didn't answer and he pushed her hair out of her face. His eyebrows rose and he shook his head, moving around the couch and easing his arms under her. Lifting her, he ignored her soft whimper of protest. "Quit your bitchin'."

She shook her head, curling into him. Her hand curled in his shirt, one finger slipping between the buttons and brushing his warm skin. "Thought I told you to go the fuck away?" Her words were slurred and soft.

"You did, but since when do I listen to you?"

"Why should you?" She pushed away from him, trying to free herself from his hard grip. "Haven't you heard, Drue? I'm the biggest slut in Capeside."

"Okay, Jen? Joey Potter, virgin extraordinaire, is your competition. Mother Teresa is a slut compared to that girl." He set her down at the top of the stairs. "You've got no choice but to be the whore next to her Madonna."

"Fuck you." She pushed him away. "Fucking Joey Potter. How badly did you want into her pants senior year, Valentine? Tell me," she shoved him again, smirking when he winced as the banister dug into his back. "How much did it suck to have to end the year sucking up to your second choice?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Lindley?"

She shook her head, holding on to the wall as she did so. "Go the fuck away, Drue. In fact, why don't you go find Joey Potter? Chase her across the fucking country or sail away with her or what fucking ever. Just get the fuck out of my house."

He watched her stumble down the hallway, not looking back as she pushed her way into one of the rooms. Sighing, he started down the hall, stopping as a soft thud echoed after him. Turning, he entered the room she'd disappeared into and lifted her slumped body off the floor, carrying her to the bed.