There was a house party in the neighborhood tonight, surprisingly not run by the Santos for once. Cesar said they would be too busy with their own matters to care about someone other than them running it. Ruby and his friends begged me a few days ago, asking if I could come because my aunt, Ruby's mom, said they couldn't unless they had a chaperone. I'd only been in Freeridge for all of 3 days before this was brought up to me. What sounded more appealing was staying home and watching my list of shows on a Saturday night but here I was washing dishes, still putting up with Ruby.

"Please, Sylvia," Ruby had begged, using his puppy dog eyes to win me over. "Everyone from school is going to come, and how else can I impress the ladies outside of the classroom?"

"Why would I want to go waste my time at a house party watching a bunch of high schoolers?" I had grumbled, washing the dishes. Now that I was done with college, I had moved back to Freeridge to give back to my community. I wanted to work with troubled juveniles to get them on the right track in life. I didn't want them to end up in a gang, homeless, or on drugs. I had seen enough of that growing up here. Had lost too many to that way of life. So here I was, trying to fix it and make a difference. Never thought I'd end up back here again, but figured it was a start.

"Because," he drawled out. "There won't only be high schoolers there. It's a house party for all ages. Plus, there will be alcohol and boys you can talk to, and friends you can make."

"You say that like I don't have any."

Shrugging, Ruby goes, "If the shoe fits…"

I splash dishwater at him that he skillfully dodges. Later that afternoon, he had invited Jamal, Monse, and Cesar over to further convince me into going.

"It'll be fun," Cesar smiled at me. Oscar's younger but now not-so-little brother. Thinking of Oscar brings back some bad memories of when we had dated in high school, before he got locked up. Cesar was so young that I wonder exactly how much he remembered of Oscar getting into some trouble. The nights he disappeared while I stuck around to babysit. I shake my head.

"You guys can't all seriously be wanting to go, can you?" I look toward Monse, the one who usually has my back on decisions like this. Unfortunately, while I was away, Monse had been getting acquainted with Cesar. His arm was wrapped around her shoulder as they both leaned back on the loveseat. My chances of not going have dropped significantly.

Monse shrugged apologetically. "I think it'll be more fun than a Santos party, definitely."

"I second that," Jamal piped in. "We've been so busy with homework that there hasn't been any time for fun. Well… Unless you count that time when we-"

"Anyway!" Ruby slapped a hand on Jamal's mouth. "Sylvia, this house party will be like nothing we've ever been to before. First, it'll be safe, considering there won't be any Santos or gang members. Second, it won't be in a nice, rich neighborhood where cultural appropriation and blatant disrespect to our heritage would occur. Third, it IS a house party for anyone of all ages to come to which means nothing too crazy could happen, and things won't get out of hand. Fourth-"

"Okay, enough already!" I had yelled, annoyed by Ruby's mouth running. Rubbing my temples, I told them, "We'll go tonight, but no trying to hook me up with bum ass Freeridge boys." I glared at each one of them. They smiled at me sweetly, satisfied at having won me over.

Later that night, we were all dressed up, ready to go. I had helped Monse with her hair and outfit, due to the fact she didn't have many female friends. My long, black hair was curled in soft waves and my tight, black dress was a little too short, just reaching the middle of my thighs. I wore an oversized jacket to cover up some skin, remembering this was a party of all ages. I'd be damned if some high schooler started hitting on me.

The party was active when we showed up, the group immediately leaving me behind to entertain myself. Ruby was right though, there were people my age here as well as teenagers from their high school. No sign of any Santos or Prophets here. The lights were dimmed in whoever's house this was and people flooded from inside the house to outside into the yard. I sat by myself at the dining table, sipping on coke and rum.

"Hey girrrrl," an obnoxious high schooler wrapped her arm around me. I almost spilled my drink on the table, setting it down abruptly.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"The name's Jasmine. I'm going to be your future cousin-in-law." She introduced herself with a flamboyant wave, and I cracked a slight smile at her dramatics. "And you're Sylvia Martinez, Ruby's older cousin who went to college to major in Criminal Justice. Dated a Santos back in your younger days, and is now living a lonely life, waiting for one of these boys to talk to you."

"How did you…?"

"Drink up!" She placed three shots of tequila down in front of me. "Because sitting here by your lonesome getting buzzed is NOT going to get your hoo-hah dipped in, you feel?"

"I don't think I want that to happen," I stated, eyeing the shots. I knew better than to question how a 15 year old girl got a hold of all that alcohol. I just hope they're not all for me.

"Please, you know how hard it took for me to yank this bottle away from one of these alcoholics?" She holds up the rest of the bottle of tequila. "I'm doing you a favor, homegirl."

"Definitely not your homegirl," I shook my head. But I mean, she had a point. Not about the boys, but about sitting here by myself, not talking to anybody. "Here goes nothing," I said, as I tipped my head back for the first shot.

Three shots and a bottle of tequila in hand later, I was dancing drunk in a group of people, vision blurry, jacket nowhere to be found, when a commotion started at the door.

"The Santos are here!" somebody yelled, a few frightened heads turning to look. Most of the high schoolers bolted, leaving those of us who were either too intoxicated to care, or old enough to not actually fear anything. There was still a good amount of people and we continued to dance, unphased.

Someone grabbed my arm. "Hey Sylvia, maybe we should go." It was Jamal. I'd recognize that worried expression from anywhere. "It doesn't seem to be safe anymore, you were right."

"What?" I shouted over the music. "The night's only just begun!" I smile a little too sloppily and open.

"You have been dancing for the past hour already! And what is this?" Jamal reaches for the bottle in my hand, but I pull away playfully, holding it possessively against my chest. "Aren't you supposed to be our chaperone?"

I giggle and turn away as if I didn't hear him. Suddenly, I face against someone's broad chest wearing a gray t-shirt.

"You drunk, mamí?" His deep voice rumbled against my skin, and I felt goosebumps rise, memories resurfacing from my high school days. It's been four years since we've seen each other, since our breakup, but it feels like I never left Freeridge. I look up into his deep, brown eyes. He doesn't have hair anymore, having chosen to shave it off. His lips are still full, and not much has changed about his image except he's taller, and maybe more muscular now. It feels like my heart is going to fall out of my chest.

"Eep," I heard Jamal squeak out. "We were just about to leave, we didn't mean to replace your Santos fiestas, feel free to take over…!"

He looked over at Jamal, with a brow raised. "I wasn't talking to you."

"You're right," Jamal let out a nervous laugh. "Sylvia, I'll see you back at home, yeah?" With that, he scurries away like a mouse.

"Oscar," I slur.

"It's Spooky now."

He wraps his arms around my waist to pull me in, swiftly taking the bottle out of my hand. Smooth. "Hey, that was mine."

"It's mine now," he says. Looking intensely at me with his dark, smoldering eyes, he takes a giant swig straight from the bottle and hands it off to someone else.

"You're a dick," I mutter, as if no time at all has passed between us. He chuckles, only holding me tighter against him so that we're both swaying to the music together. His hands move so that they're resting just above the curve of my ass. I resist the urge to shiver. My hands are around his neck. I'm not quite sure what I'm doing, but I know it shouldn't be this.

"Still as fine as ever," he mutters, looking me up and down. I roll my eyes.

"Do you remember me, or have you slept with too many hynas to remember me, Spooky?" I ask sarcastically, but still curious. I hope I asked that confidently, and not like a drunk mess. Most likely the latter.

"Damn," he chuckles. "That's the first thing you want to ask me?"

I'm still waiting for an answer when he swoops down to gently suck on the left side of my neck, at a specifically sensitive spot. I arch my back against him instinctively and he pulls away, no doubt leaving a slight mark behind.

"That answer your question?"

I nod, my face flushing red at how bold he is and how much I liked it.

"Come on," he whispers into my ear. "Let's go somewhere quiet."

Pulling my hand, he leads us upstairs to the bedrooms. We pass by Monse and Cesar who look a little too ruffled up and disheveled.

"Oscar?" Cesar asks, wide eyed. "What are you doing here?"

Monse and Cesar are holding hands and they both look at me in my drunken state.

"Finished business early tonight," Oscar simply replies, raising a brow at Cesar.

"Is she okay?" Monse asks, referring to me. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Enough," I reply. I blink rapidly, the tequila hitting harder than expected. I want to fall asleep right now, but I'm also insanely turned on from the move Oscar pulled earlier. A small voice in the back of my head wonders why he would do that, but the alcohol suppresses logic. My emotions were running high tonight.

"It's getting late. We were just about to get you, so we could head out," Cesar says. "We just need to find Ruby and Jamal downstairs."

I wave a hand at them. "Go on home without me."

Cesar looks at me incredulously, exchanging looks with Monse. "Uh, I don't know about that. Ruby's mom kindof expected you to be with us."

"Lie," I mumble, the alcohol numbing my common sense. "Get Ruby and Jamal and spend the night at Monse's place. Have a little sleepover, and we can all go home tomorrow morning together."

Monse is hesitant. "Will you be okay getting to my house?"

"I'll drop her off," Oscar states. "She'll be safe with me."

Monse and Cesar exchange another look but don't question him. They turn away and head downstairs.

Oscar finds an empty bedroom which looks like a guest room and locks the door behind us. Almost immediately, he has me against the wall, hands all over my body, thighs, hips, and mouth against mine. He moves against me hungrily, and I reciprocate. As drunk as I am, I still remember the feel of him, his scent, how natural our bodies mesh together. Something about the way he touches me has me craving more, like a toxic addiction. We hadn't been in contact for 4 years, and I heard from the block that he just got out about 9 months ago. He could have called me, the thought nagged.

"I've missed you, mamí," he breathes against my neck, and the thought disappears for now. I sigh against him, feeling his shoulders and chest.

"You ain't ever call me when you got out, so I thought you forgot about me," I gasp, feeling his lips graze against my collarbone. His hands are travelling up my thighs, squeezing them.

"I couldn't forget about you; you were mi primer amor."

The truth is, I'm still bitter from our breakup. We were steady for two years before he called it quits. All that effort, time, and empty promises just thrown away like it was nothing. We were more than a high school relationship. I felt it, he had felt it too. All the long nights talking about putting a ring on me, and doing things right, and starting a family. The hell were we doing now? As much pleasure as he's giving me, I haven't forgotten our history. "Am I just a quick fuck for you now?"

Oscar stops mid-kiss to say, "You can be more, if you want, princesa." His tone has me almost convinced it can happen.

Feeling the tears well up in my eyes at why we broke up, I pull his face towards mine, and we continue to kiss passionately. His full lips move against mine, and I push down the feeling of heartache, allowing desire to take over. I just want to wash away the hurt he gave me, but I highly doubt this is the way to do it. The only person who can take away the feeling of pain is the one who inflicts it, right? Oscar's hands find my lower regions and he whistles low at how turned on I am.

"Fuck, I just wanna be inside you already."

He moves his face down to the area between my legs when he feels the first teardrop fall on his forehead.

I turn my face away, and bite my lip trying to hold back the tears. I don't want to just be a hit it and quit it tonight. I had wanted more with Oscar. This is our first time meeting since we broke up. This isn't how I'd imagined it. I imagined it as a sweeter reunion, not us about to fuck in some random person's house. But then again, it IS Oscar. What did I expect? A deeper thought nags at me.

"Sylvia."

I don't face him, but I know he's standing up now. It's the first time he's said my name all night.

"Look at me."

When I don't, he takes his hand to cup my chin and turns me toward him. My tears are falling freely now, and he wipes it away with his thumb.

"We don't gotta do anything tonight. We can go downstairs, relax, chill out. I don't want you feeling pressured." Almost as an afterthought, he says, "We can take things slow. How long you been back for?"

My breath hitches. "T-That's not it, Oscar."

His brow furrows, confused. "Then what are you crying for?"

I take a deep breath in. There were a lot of things that were overwhelming me, but this, at least, I had to get out there;

"I actually have a boyfriend."