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Years of practice allowed me to swallow my surprise and remain cool on the outside when I moved forward to hug Mrs. Johnson. "Thank you all for coming," I said softly as Mrs. Johnson released me from the hug but kept me planted in front of her.

"Oh sweet pea, look at you! Every time I see you I forget how darn pretty you are.

" Her words made me blush slightly even though I knew she was just being nice.

I think Mrs. Johnson is a pretty keen lady and she knew more than she let on.

She always gave me a lot of compliments and love and I couldn't help but wonder if she saw how tortured I had been for years over her son.

Mr. Johnson gave me a stiff nod as he moved around us to go find my dad. He never seemed especially happy to come here but I suppose that is just how the men in their family acted. Quiet, brooding, and kind of stiff.

Annie's face was pressed into an iPad so I gave her a head pat and left her to wander blindly into the living room.

Finally, I turned towards Archer. He stood just inside the door in all of his 6'4 glory, with his fists shoved into his pockets.

College football was obviously doing him wonders—it was impossible not to notice how much muscle he had packed on recently.

His face as usual was set in a slightly grumpy, slightly bored grimace.

We made eye contact and he briefly nodded his head in greeting.

"Oliver is upstairs in his room if you want to head up," is all I spared him before turning around to take Mrs. Johnson into the kitchen with my mom.

Later, we were dishing up our plates and heading to the dining room to eat.

My dad sat at the head of the table and before I could take my usual seat next to him my mom shuffled me to the other end.

The adults all congregated around my dad leaving Brit, Kayla, and Annie to sit to my left.

Archer and Oliver were the last to join us and took the two remaining seats to my right.

A sharp scraping sound came from Oliver's chair as he plunked himself down.

I turned to give him a look and noticed how red his cheeks were.

I raised an eyebrow at him in silent question, but his only response was a cheeky grin.

My dad cleared his throat at the end of the table, and I looked up in time to see him shoot Oliver a warning glare.

Once he had everyone's attention he lifted his glass. Oh no...

"As you all know we have invited you here tonight to celebrate our little Lotty's huge accomplishment" he began.

"It's hard to believe my baby girl is somehow old enough to be graduating high school but yet.

.. here we are." Everyone at the table listened to my dad with smiles on their faces.

Pink spread across my nose, as they all took turns looking over at me with proud faces.

The emotion evident in my dad's voice was not helping matters.

"Not only is she graduating soon, but we just got word last week that she has been accepted and will be going to USC!

So cheers to Lotty, congratulations baby, we are all so proud of you!

" Cheers of congratulations soared around the table and I took my time smiling at each and every face—except one.

I did not want to look at Archer and potentially see the accusation in his eyes.

I'm sure if I had looked at him, his eyes would have said, did you purposely choose the same school as me.

..? Did I? No gosh of course not.

In fact, I really wanted to choose any school but the University of Southern California—where Archer was about to start his Junior year.

But there was just too much going for it.

It's a great school, and it's one of only a few that I wasn't waitlisted for.

Plus it's only a four-hour drive from home so I would be able to come back more often when I inevitably got homesick. So no Archer... I am not still some lovesick puppy that is chasing you to college. If I had my way we wouldn't ever even see each other.

Everyone spent the rest of the evening eating and laughing.

I tried my hardest to enjoy the festivities, but anxiety slowly crept up on me as I watched Oliver.

My mom had put out her Sangria for the adults and I lost count of how many times Ollie went to refill his cup.

For a casual family dinner, he seemed to be pounding quite a few back.

I knew Oliver liked to party, he'd been going out every Saturday since he turned 15.

But recently, it had become a point of contention in our family.

Oliver just always overdid it. Numerous times, he had come home late at night—knocking stuff over and waking us all up. It became a pattern. My dad yelled, my mom took care of him, then he would wake up the next day and not understand why we were all stressed out.

I really didn't like it when my family weren't happy, and after the small exchange at dinner, I desperately wanted to avoid this escalating.

So instead of spending the evening enjoying my party, I watched Oliver like a hawk.

I had begun to recognize his patterns, which allowed me to intervene before anyone else noticed how drunk he was.

Everyone stood together on the front porch, waving to my grandparents as they drove away.

Oliver was next to me with his arm around my shoulders.

The amount of weight he put on me was a clear indicator that the time had come to step in.

If not that, then the way he nuzzled the side of my head.

Wine seeped out of his pores and I anxiously wondered if anyone else could smell it.

As quietly as possible, I tugged on his waist and pulled him back through the house and out the back door.

Once we were outside I dropped him into a nearby chair and tried to figure out the best plan of action.

Brit and Kayla were currently setting up charades in the living room and I knew if Oliver went in there it could cause a scene.

Which would stress out my mom and anger my dad and honestly? I just couldn't deal with that tonight.

"Ollie c'mon what am I going to do with you? Do you want to go hang out in your room?"

"Baby sister... Baby Lotty..." He slurred.

"Why are you freaking out? I'm fine! I just needed a little fresh air and I'll be good to go.

" Of course, he believed that. In Oliver's world, everything was always, "all good".

There was never any reason to be stressed.

I loved my brother but I wouldn't mind if he cared just a little bit more, so I didn't have to care as much.

But then a new voice joined us in the darkness.

"Ollie my man, why don't we head out? You're already half cut so we might as well see what kind of trouble we can get into.

" I turned around to see Archer leaning up again the door frame, his arms were crossed and the shadows of the porch light made his face look ridiculously chiselled.

Okay Lotty... not the freaking time.

When Oliver heard his best friend's voice he jumped up and span around—almost losing his balance again.

"Hell ya, bro! Let's go. I only got my wingman back for a bit ssso I better use that magnet you got that sucks all the ladiesss in.

" I stood up as well—cringing at my brother's sudden excitement over the ladies.

Oliver jumped at Archer and roughly tried to pull him into a headlock.

I couldn't help but smile slightly as Archer let out a big sigh and rolled his eyes at my brother's antics.

Archer curved his spine away from Oliver and successfully evaded the close contact.

Eventually, Ollie settled for slinging his arm around Archer and together they left into the garden to walk around the house. I watched them go relieved that the family drama was avoided. The anxiety lingered though as I considered what would happen when Oliver got home from their trouble.

As if I had spoken my worries out loud, Archer suddenly stopped and called back to me.

"We'll be out late so let your parents know Ollie will crash at my place.

" I nodded and began to turn away to head back inside when he continued, "and by the way Charlotte, congrats on USC.

" It wasn't much, but as far as conversations between Archer and I went it was basically the nicest he'd ever been.

With a small thanks, I went back into the house to join the games with my family.

My mind stayed on that small interaction for longer than I would like to admit.

Is it possible that my plan had worked? That Archer forgot how creepy I was?

Maybe he didn't see me as some kind of stalker anymore.

Pushing it from my mind, I relaxed for the rest of the evening and enjoyed time with my loved ones.

But I knew that I could only let my guard down so much when it came to Archer Johnson.

My immature feelings for him were obviously long gone, but I still needed to be careful at USC.

Realistically, I would probably never even see him anyways.

He will be a junior and I'll be a freshman—plus I highly doubted we would be in similar social circles.

He was currently QB1 for USC's Division 1 football team. And I was...well me.

I wouldn't be rubbing elbows with the elites of the school.

I probably wouldn't ever get invited to parties and if I did they won't be the kind of parties that first-string football players went to.

No... I might not have been ecstatic about going to the same school as Archer, but I was confident that I could maintain the image that I had been forcing for the last two years.

I had my rules, now all I had to do was keep following them.