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I don't remember much of what happened after that. I think the alcohol must have set in fast, or I had a few more. Then Liza was holding my hair back and scolding me for something while I got intimate with a toilet. I must have made it home somehow, because I woke up the next morning in my bed, still wearing the same clothes from the night before, with my head pounding mercilessly.

            I crawled down from my bed and tried to stand up, but nearly puked again from the pain. I ran on wobbly legs to the bathroom, and yes, I did puke. I felt a little better after that. The flushing was deafeningly loud, and I crushed my cold fingertips to the sides of my head as the previous night all came back to me. Gavin, the lamp next to the couch where I’d left my tank-top; Liza had forgotten to get that for me... All of it but this one space of time, where I imagined something truly awful must have happened.

            Slowly, I raised my thousand pound head up and squinted at the horrifying thing in the mirror. After a second of terror, I took a deep breath and began calming myself.

            Okay, I thought, this is me hung-over. I can handle this by not getting trashed out of my mind ever again, or by taking this mirror down for the next two days.

            Option two was appealing, but I decided that required more effort than I was willing to give. Instead, I gave my teeth a hearty brushing to rid myself of the vomit-and-booze-and-weed stink, and then got in my tiny corner shower and let the hot water pour over me.

            I looked… well, not great, but presentable after that. I shrugged into an oversized hoodie and a pair of old sweatpants and began the epic daily adventure that was brushing my hair. The doorbell rang then, and I cried out in pain.

            Alexis called out, "Some dude with a lip ring is here, Jane!"

            Wonderful. Exactly who I wanted to see.

            I yelled back, "Tell him to come downstairs!"

            "OKAY!" she screeched.

            I whimpered and lowered myself slowly to the beanbag under my bed. The door creaked open quietly, thank God, and Gavin chuckled.

            “Hung-over, are we?” he taunted. He was being a hypocrite since he looked pretty awful himself.

            “Oh, just a bit.” It was silent for a minute between us as he leaned against the door frame. Someone next door started up their lawn mower and the pain in my head spiked. "Shut up!" I groaned.

            Gavin laughed again and came to sit beside me. “I’m honestly sorry about last night, I shouldn’t have made you do that,” he began.

            “No one made me,” I corrected reluctantly. “I wanted to.”

            “Ah, yes, but you’re regretting it now, right?” I wasn’t looking, but I could tell that that cocky smirk was plastered across his face.

            I couldn’t answer him.

            “PJ,” he prompted, “are you or not?” I stole a glimpse at him and he raised his eyebrows.

            “Yes.” It was only a partial lie. The makey-outy part of last night had been nice, but I wished I’d have been more judgmental of my condition.

            He grinned. “Are you sure?”

            I chewed my lower lip anxiously. “Yes, I’m sure.”

            He shifted over and knelt in front of me, utterly dripping with arrogance. “Are you lying?” he asked.

            “Shut up.” It was becoming difficult to keep from smiling.

            “Hm? What do you want me to do?” His head swiveled every direction I tried to look, so he was never out of my sight. I fell into a coughing fit to hide my laughter. He pulled the neck of my hoodie down to kiss my collarbone. A shudder ran through my spine and I gasped.

            I heard a low rumble in his chest that I recognized as his amusement at my reaction. His lips were parted and his breath flooded over my skin as he asked, “Will your sister try to come in?”

            “No,” I mumbled, trying to fight off the urge I had to touch every inch of him.

            “Parents?”

            “No.”

            “Excellent,” he hissed. His lips touched mine and almost immediately the throbbing in my head eased. I racked my mind for a reason, any reason to protest what he was doing, but even my usual band excuse seemed weak. I bunched the green fabric of his t-shirt in my hands and he pressed himself against me, his tongue delving deeper into my mouth. His fingers spidered their way up my waist, and as soon as I realized what he was trying to do, I yanked my hoodie off and tossed it to the side to continue exchanging saliva with him.

            “So, you do like me,” he said, detaching his face from mine.

            “No, I don’t, not at all,” I replied sarcastically.

            He stared at me, obviously trying to intimidate me into telling him otherwise. His eyes glinted. He dipped his head and drew a line up my neck to my chin with the tip of his tongue.

            I writhed under him, my heart thudding unevenly.

            "Okay, I like you," I surrendered.

            He lifted himself off of me.

            "Good," he said, apparently satisfied.

            I furrowed my eyebrows at him, determined to maintain what little dignity I had left. "Now what about you?"

            He turned to me, a playful look in his eyes. "Isn't it obvious?"

            I laughed. "A little too obvious," I said, trying to copy his sexy tone but ended up sounding more like a dehydrated zombie.

            He shook his head, grinning. "You're so hung-over. I'll let you sleep." He patted the top of my head and slipped out of my room, straightening the wrinkles I'd made in his shirt. I listened impatiently for the roar of his car pulling out of the driveway and relaxed at the noise fading down the road. My peace was interrupted a few seconds later by the thunderous preteen stomping of Alexis down the stairs. She shoved the door open and scowled at me.

            “What were you doing with him?” she asked me, her voice thick with disgust.

            My jaw dropped a fraction in shock. “Um, what was that, mother dearest?”

            “Seriously, PJ. That’s gross and you know mom and dad aren’t here,” she rambled.

            “Okay,” I began slowly, “first off, you don’t know what you’re talking about, and second, get out of my room.”

            She huffed and spun around to leave, but paused. “You’re already grounded, and that means people can’t come over. If you do that again, I’m telling Dad.”

            “Really,” I sneered. “Maybe I was explaining to him that very situation that you just described. Maybe I wasn’t. Either way, you have no proof. You are in dire need of a life if you’ve got nothing better to do than keep tabs on me.”

            “Ugh!” Her fingers clenched into fists and she pounded her feet on each step on the way up. As if her feelings weren’t already so obvious.

            I kicked the door shut and buried my face into the beanbag. People suck. I needed to retreat to a cave and never return to society. Gavin can come with me.