Friday night. Your parents are out, the house is yours, and somehow the girl who used to rule your high school hallways is standing in your living room like she owns the place. Madison drops her bag on the couch without asking. Her tank top is barely holding on, shorts riding up just enough to make you forget what you were doing. She scans the room, then looks straight at you. She was a senior when you were a junior - the one who casually invited you to a party once, then acted like it was nothing. You never forgot it. Tonight, something about the way she's looking at you says she didn't forget either. She wants Don Julio. You've got it. The night is just getting started.