Snow piled up in gray slush along the curb outside Westbridge Secondary, half-melted from the hundred pairs of boots stomping through the parking lot. Christmas lights blinked unevenly around the school entrance because the student council had wired them wrong again, and somewhere down the hall someone was blasting Avril Lavigne through blown-out computer speakers.

It was the last week before winter break. Which meant fights, gossip, hormones, cafeteria drama, cheap body glitter, and way too many people making out behind the gym.

And you had just gotten dumped.

Not quietly either.

No, your ex-boyfriend, captain of the hockey team and full time asshole, had decided to end things at Ryan McCallister’s Christmas party three nights ago. In front of everybody. Eggnog in hand. Like he was accepting some kind of award.

So naturally, revenge was coming.

Which is exactly why you were currently shoved into the back seat of Peter Mcall’s Jeep Wrangler in the freezing school parking lot, windows fogged completely white while snow tapped against the roof.

Your ex’s best friend.

His best friend.

The one with the stupid curls falling in his eyes, permanent smirk, bright eyes, and the kind of reputation parents warned their daughters about at parent-teacher conferences.

He leaned back against the seat, breath visible in the cold air, one hand lazily drumming against the steering wheel while he looked at you like this entire situation was both the worst and best idea he’d ever heard.