“I’m merely introducing myself,” Jason informs Eli smoothly. “Are you Chelsea’s boyfriend?”

Eli pauses.

“No,” I say to Jason.

Jason smirks. “Then why are you so annoyed?” he asks Eli.

“You’re slobbering all over her hand,” Eli says. “It’s disgusting.”

 Jason chuckles and lets go of my hand. “Chelsea, it looks like your friend isn’t too happy. I’ll call you later. See you.” Jason waves and strolls away.

“What did he mean, he’ll call you?” Eli asks me when Jason's left us.

“We’re just going to meet up to talk,” I tell him. Eli’s expression darkens.

“Talk, huh?” Eli laughs humorlessly. “I think he wants to do more than talk."

“What? No!” I exclaim. “Eli… just forget about that. It wasn’t even that big of a deal anyway. I just overreacted to that...kiss.”

“Don’t just let guys get all over you like that,” Eli tells me.

I feel a twinge of annoyance. “Well, what about you?” I ask. “You let all those random girls flirt with you all the time.”

“That’s different.” he says. 

“How?" I yell at him frustratedly. "You’re such a hypocrite. Even if I tell you not to mess around with all those girls, you never listen to me. Why should I listen to you?” 

Eli stares at me for a long, long time.

I feel a sinking sensation inside my stomach.

Finally he hisses, “You’re impossible,” and storms away, out the door.

Leaving me standing alone in the middle of the party. 

I sprint outside, trying to find Eli so I can apologize to him, to try and tell him that I didn't mean what I said. 

But as soon as I come out the door of Belluve Mansion, a tall man holding a camera dashes up to me. “Miss Kingsley! Was that your boyfriend who left the party?”

Oh crap. Did this reporter just see Eli leave in a rage?

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I laugh, trying to back away. “We just had a disagreement.”

“Did you two have a fight? Who is that man? How long have you been seeing each other?” The reporter shoots me questions faster than bullets from an M16 rifle.

“No comment,” I tell the reporter, and after quickly removing my heels, I run down the sidewalk until I find a cab.  “800 East Mario Street, please,” I tell the driver.

“Sure thing,” the driver says, and starts for my house.

I glumly stare out the window as we drive down the streets of downtown L.A.

I didn’t mean to start a fight with Eli. But now… he’s completely furious with me.

I sigh. How am I going to make up with him?