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I've arrived at the conclusion that when a large group of hormonal teenagers are shoved into a confined space and given prodigious amounts of alcohol, bad things start to happen. 

As I pushed my way through the crowd towards the small circle that was forming around Blake and Ethan, things were starting to seem like they couldn't possibly get any worse than they already were.

But, of course, the universe doesn't seem to like me very much.

I'm not sure who threw the first punch. In fact, I don't even care who started it all. But someone in the crowd thought that right now would be a good time to take out their anger on some poor drunk kid standing next to him. And once the first punch was thrown, the shouting started. And right behind the shouting came more punching.

Soon enough, everyone in Ethan's living room was fighting.

"We need to get out of here," Lena said.

"Can you carry Isabel?" I asked. "My arms are going numb."

Lena's eyes briefly went wide with panic.

"I'm not great with kids, Waverly, I—"

"Here's Aunt Lena!" I announced, shoving Isabel into her arms.

"Ass-oles!" Isabel cried, demonstrating her new favorite word.

"Alright, she's kinda cool, I guess," Lena said, holding Isabel as stiffly as one might hold a bag of rotting lemons. "Let's get out of here."

We hurried down the stairs.

I was just about to step out of the living room when something came flying at my face.

In retrospect, I totally deserved an elbow to the cheek. I really did.

Not only had I let Blake Hamilton convince me that coming to his arch nemesis' party was a good idea, but I had also stolen my aunt's car and essentially kidnapped a two-year-old.

I'd been an idiot all day, and since karma has a habit of coming back and biting me in the ass, I should've seen it coming.

And I did, for a moment.

But then it hit me.

I don't remember what the impact felt like, because the next thing I knew, I was sprawled not-so-elegantly across the floor of Ethan's living room and blinking up at Lena, who looked almost as surprised as I felt, and Isabel, who had the nerve to laugh.

"Oh my God! Waverly! Are you alright?" Lena cried.

I wasn't exactly sure if I was. I could still wiggle my toes, which was always a good sign, but there was a dull throbbing in the back of my head that didn't feel right. Lena reached down, grabbed one of my hands, and pulled me up to my feet.

The throbbing in my head became worse.

"Waverly?" she asked, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

"I'm okay!" I argued.

Lena pursed her lips and held up her hand.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" she demanded.

"Tree!" Isabel supplied.

"Three," I repeated.

"You cheated," Lena huffed.

"I don't have time for this," I snapped. "We need to find Blake and Jesse. We need to—we gotta go."

Lena narrowed her eyes for a moment, and I could only assume that she was mentally debating whether she should perform a proper medical exam on me or give up and help me find her brother and his friend.

"Par-tee over," Isabel said.

"Fine," Lena finally sighed. "Party over. Let's go."

We turned and had taken no more than a couple steps before I spotted a mop of golden curls hovering above the crowd. I grabbed Lena's shoulder to get her attention and pointed over at the mop of curls that looked so much like her own. Lena hiked Isabel up on her hip and we started towards the other end of the room.

As we got closer, the guy with the curls turned around.

I was glad to see that it was, indeed, Jesse Fletcher.

But why did he look like he was clueless?

I mean, he was clueless. But usually, he just had a big idiotic grin on his face. Now, he was frowning and there was a little crease between his dark blonde eyebrows. His eyes scanned the crowd nervously, searching for someone. When Lena and I finally broke through the crowd, we realized why he looked so distressed.

He had a girl in his arms.

It was Alissa Hastings, passed out and wearing a little neon orange bikini.

"Where'd you get the baby?" Jesse asked his sister, frowning.

"Where'd you get the idiot?" Lena retorted, nodding at the girl in his arms.

"She just passed out, I guess," Jesse said, his voice a couple octaves higher than usual and his cheeks turning bright red as Alissa's head rolled to the side and landed against the crook of his neck. "Blake and I found her with Ethan. And, you know, Blake got pretty pissed off. I decided I'd try to get Lissa out of here, but then..." Jesse trailed off and, at a loss for words, settled for motioning his head towards the chaos in Ethan's living room.

"Right," Lena said, "let's get her out to the front porch."

The three of us (four if you count Isabel and five if you count Alissa, but I don't) made our way through the crowd of clumsy, alcohol-fueled fights. 

I saw someone punch Jesse in the arm, but he seemed more worried about not dropping Alissa Hastings than turning around and retaliating. Lena, however, was on the lookout. Anyone who got within three feet of her and the baby received a very intimidating glare. Anyone who got within two feet of her got a verbal warning.

Anyone who got within a foot of her didn't stand a chance.

By the time we finally stepped out onto Ethan's front porch, we all looked like we had just walked through the eye of a tornado. Jesse's shirt was askew and his curls had deflated a bit on one side of his head. Lena's bun had little frizzy curls poking out of it in every direction, and her knuckles had turned a little purple from all the punching she had done back there. Alissa was still completely unconscious, but even her slick black hair had been mussed up on the side that wasn't resting against Jesse's shoulder.

Isabel was pink-cheeked and grinning like she'd just had the best night of her young life.

"Did you bring the car?" Lena asked her twin.

"Yeah," he replied, "I parked just around the corner."

Lena pressed her fingers to her lips for a moment in thought.

"Okay, go ahead and drive Waverly back to Blake's, and then drive Alissa home," she told Jesse, already turning to me to hand over Isabel.

"Wave-ree," she said in greeting.

"Hey, kiddo," I sighed.

"What about you?" Jesse frowned at his sister.

"You can come pick me up in a half hour or so," she explained.

"Lena," Jesse sighed, "I really don't want you joining the fight."

"I'm not going to!" she argued. "I'm first-aid certified, Jesse. It's my duty to go back in there and help those drunk, injured morons. Besides, we're still missing someone."

Jesse's eyebrows drew together.

"Who?" he asked, glancing around the porch.

"Blake!" Lena cried. "Who else do you think, you—"

"Baby listening," I interjected.

"—cucumber!" she finished, flustered.

Jesse cocked an eyebrow.

Lena looked ready to fight him.

"Why don't you go back in there and play Mother Theresa?" I suggested, tapping her shoulder.

Lena sighed and spun around. After shooting one final glare at Jesse over her shoulder, she slipped back into the chaos that had encompassed Ethan's living room. 

I turned back around to face Jesse, ready to ask him where exactly he had parked his car.

But what I saw before me made the words catch in the back of my throat.

Jesse had shifted his weight so he could hold Alissa, who really looked quite small compared to Jesse's tall frame, in one arm. He had brought his free hand up to push the tangled mess of long, black hair from Alissa's eyes, and was gazing down at her like she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life. When he realized I was watching him, Jesse froze, his fingers still hovering over Alissa's cheek. 

We blinked at each other for a moment, me with my mouth hanging open and him with eyes as wide as golf balls and a faint pink blush spreading across his entire face. His ears turned bright red.

"Waverly, it's not—" Jesse began, his voice cracking.

And at that moment, I realized something. Back when I had first met Jesse, in the ice-cream parlor, he'd seemed so ticked off by how upset Alissa was about being dumped by Blake. He'd wanted her to just get over him already. I thought he just couldn't stand her wailing about the break-up because it was annoying.

But now, it was clear.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed. "You're in love with her!"

Jesse lunged forward and clapped his hand over my mouth.

Isabel cackled.

"Keep it down!" he hissed. "I don't want anyone to know!"

I gasped into Jesse's palm. "So it's true?"

Jesse narrowed his eyes at me in the least intimidating glare I'd ever seen. I raised my eyebrow at him, and he sighed and gave up. Even Jesse, as stupid as he was, had to know that in comparison to his sister, he was about as threatening as a puppy.

"Can we talk about this in the car or something?" he asked sheepishly.

"Fine," I said, slapping his hand away from my mouth.

Jesse turned and started down the porch steps.

I followed after him, and together we walked in silence down the street. Jesse went a couple steps ahead of me, but occasionally he stopped to shift Alissa in his arms so she wouldn't go tumbling onto the sidewalk. We turned at the corner of the street and kept walking, the distant thump of the music blasting back at Ethan's house growing softer.

Eventually, we arrived at Jesse's car.

It was a beat-up Jeep with a dented rear bumper and faded forest green paint that was starting to chip around the door handles. I guessed that between Lena's road-rage and Jesse's general obliviousness to everything around him, the poor car had been through a lot. The image of the two of them bickering in the front seat, with golden curls and freckled limbs flying everywhere, popped into my head. I couldn't help but snort with laughter.

Jesse lay Alissa across the bench in the back seat, then hopped into the driver's seat.

"Are you getting in?" he asked when he noticed I was still on the sidewalk.

"I don't have her carseat," I said, nodding at Isabel. "It's in my aunt's car. Which Blake has the keys to."

"I can drive really slow," Jesse offered. "It's like a mile back to Blake's place, and there's no traffic this time of night. I know it's not, like, legal. Or safe. But I've gotta get you home."

And I had to get there before Blake's parents did. I couldn't imagine how worried they'd be if they came home to find Isabel missing.

I slid into the passenger's seat apprehensively and placed her on my lap. She bounced her feet against my knees as I buckled in.

"Super slow, okay," I insisted. "Seriously. Grandma slow."

Jesse nodded and pulled away from the curb delicately, settling on a pace slow enough that I could've gotten out of the car and walked next to it. The low rumble of the road beneath our tires lulled Isabel to sleep within thirty seconds.

When we were a couple streets away from Ethan's house, I turned to him.

"So," I prompted.

In the faint glow of the Jeep's dashboard, I saw Jesse flush red.

"What?" he asked.

"So, how long have you been in love with her?" I asked, smirking slightly.

"Could you not use that word, please," Jesse mumbled, sinking down into his seat a little.

"What word?" I frowned.

Jesse turned a shade redder.

"Love," he said, wincing as if it were painful to say.

I rolled my eyes at him.

"Fine. How long have you been in like with her?"

Jesse sighed heavily.

"Three years, seven months, and eight days," he told me, sounding dejected.

I blinked.

Really, it was all I could do. Jesse didn't just have a little crush on Alissa Hastings. No, he was seriously and uncontrollably in love with her. When a guy counts the days he's been head over heels for a girl, you know it's serious. But I had been expecting Jesse to say something in the time frame of a couple weeks. Not three and a half years.

"Wait a second," I said. "When did she and Blake start dating?"

"The start of last year."

He was hunching over the steering wheel now, but he kept shooting glances at the rearview mirror so he could check on Alissa. I wasn't sure if he was worried that she'd wake up and hear our conversation, or that she'd puke all over the interior of his car.

Or, maybe he just liked to look at her.

"But didn't you ever tell Blake that you liked her?" I asked him, "Why would he go after her if he knew that you were in love with—"

"He didn't know," Jesse interrupted.

"So... you never told him?"

"No," Jesse said on a groan. "He always said he thought Alissa was a stuck-up. You know, he'd call her names and make fun of her for being all crazy. I couldn't tell him I liked her. He would've made fun of me, too."

I pursed my lips and tapped my finger against my chin.

If he thought she was crazy, then why had Blake started dating her?

"So, why did Blake change his mind?" I asked.

Jesse glanced over at me, then returned his gaze to the road ahead.

"I don't know," he sighed, "he never told me."

Well, that didn't help. I folded my arms across my chest and let out a long sigh. Now I had a million more questions, and it looked like Jesse couldn't answer any of them. I felt my stomach start to twist as I imagined several different scenarios, all in which Blake and Alissa first fell in love. Maybe they had bonded over their love of the ocean; I pictured them swimming together, smiling and laughing and splashing each other.

"How far is Blake's house?" I asked.

My voice sounded strange, like I was choking.

"A couple blocks," Jesse replied.

I could feel his eyes linger on me, and for a moment I was worried that Jesse knew what I was thinking. Could he tell that I felt like I was about to cry? Could he tell that I had a massive, embarrassing crush on his best friend?

"Eyes on the road, moron," I snapped.

"Okay, okay!" Jesse said, facing forward again before mumbling to himself. "God, it's like having another Lena."

I would've laughed if I hadn't been so miserable.

When Rachel's sunset orange house rolled into view, I felt only slight relief at the sight of the empty driveway. The Hamilton's driveway, too, was empty, and the only lights on inside the pale green house were in the living room. It was only once Jesse pulled his Jeep up against the sidewalk in front of the house that I realized I didn't have a set of keys to the Hamilton's house. 

I turned towards Jesse.

"Hey, do you by chance have a—"

I stopped halfway through my question when I noticed the silver key Jesse was holding out to me, a slight smile on his face. I held my hand out and he dropped the key into my palm.

"Thanks, Jesse," I told him. "You're a lifesaver."

"No problem," Jesse replied, then reached up a lanky hand to scratch the curls at the back of his neck. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure. Anything," I said as I unbuckled my seatbelt and started to open the door.

"Could you, um, not tell Lena about... you know." Jesse tilted his head towards the back seat, where Alissa had begun to snore audibly. With each exhale, the black hair that had fallen over her face flew in every which direction. She was definitely a picture of elegance, passed out in the back seat of Jesse's Jeep wearing that stupid skimpy little neon orange bikini with her tan limbs bent at odd angles. 

"I pinky swear I won't say a word," I told him.

"Thanks," Jesse said, releasing a breath I hadn't known he was holding.

I slid out of the car as gently as I could, with Isabel in my arms. Luckily she didn't so much as open her eyes.

"Good luck with your sleeping beauty," I said, jabbing my thumb towards the back seat.

Jesse flushed again.

"Have fun babysitting," he told me, smiling slightly.

I smiled back and shook my hand in a half-wave, then turned and marched across the Hamilton's recently watered front lawn. 

Just as I put my foot on the first step, a car honked gently behind me. 

I clapped my hand over Isabel's ear (although she was still sleeping like a rock) and spun around, scared shitless that I was going to see George and Chloe Hamilton pull into the driveway in their silver sedan. But it was just Jesse, who had leaned across the passenger's seat to poke his head out through the window.

"By the way," he called, "he likes you, too."

"What?"

"Blake likes you, too."

And with that, he leaned back into the driver's seat and pulled away from the curb. I watched his beat-up Jeep jolt and bounce down the street until it disappeared around the corner. 

Then I was alone, standing at the base of the Hamiltons' front steps, unsure what to make of what had just happened. It was a quiet night in Holden, Florida; the pavement was still radiating heat from a long day under the scorching sunshine, but there was a cool breeze that carried over from the Atlantic Ocean. After a few moments, I shifted Isabel in my arms and climbed the porch steps.

Jesse was an idiot.

But as much as I wanted to write off what he had said as Jesse being his stupid self, I couldn't ignore the glint of hope that bubbled up in my stomach.

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