Free One Night That Changes Everything by Lauren Barnholdt Page A

Jeremiah Fisher is that bright. One time I had to explain to him what irony was, and he still didn’t get it.
    “Anyway,” I say, “Marissa, come with me to get a drink.”
    Delia gets the message and puts a pissed, put out sort of look on her face, but then turns around and goes off to bother someone else.
    We head into the kitchen, where Marissa drinks a soda, and I look around for something a little stronger. I’m not that great with alcohol, and since I’ve already had a few sips of a cosmo, I need to be careful. I tend to get drunk very fast, probably because I don’t really drink that often. I spot a pitcher of something pink sitting on the counter next to a stack of plastic cups. Not just any plastic cups, though. They’re plastic cups with purple-and-aqua decals all over them. Of course Isabella would have cups like that.
    I pour some of the pink liquid into the purple-and-aqua cup and hope that no one’s spiked it with a date-rape drug.
    “So,” Marissa says. “Was he, you know, watching me?”
    “Who?” I ask, frowning. I take a sip of the pink drink. Very strong, but very good, sweet and tangy. I take another sip. A small one.
    “Jeremiah!” Marissa says. “Duh!” I notice she’s taken her sweater off and is now wearing just a light yellow halter top. Also, her shoulders look very sparkly.
    “What’s all over your shoulders?” I ask, moving in for a closer look.
    “Body sparkles,” she says. “I took them out of Isabella’s room.”
    “Isabella already has a room here?” I ask.
    “Yeah, totally,” she says. “With all her makeup, a fully stocked closet, everything.”
    “That is so cool,” I say. Wow. I mean, how fun! To have your own apartment with, like, duplicates of all your stuff. Think about it. You could just come into the city to hang out anytime you want. I wonder just how popular Isabella would be if she didn’t have this apartment. Hmm. Probably still really popular, since she’s gorgeous.
    “So was he?” Marissa asks.
    “Was who what?” I take another sip of my drink, a bigger one this time. I’m starting to feel a little bit warm inside, and it feels good, but I know enough to realize that there’s a fine line between feeling all warm and good inside and ending up puking into the bushes while people shake their head sadly at you and mumble things about how you can’t hold your liquor. Not that that’s happened to me before. But I do know some people it
has
happened to, cough, Jeremiah, cough.
    “Was. Jeremiah. Watching. Me.” She takes the cup I’m holding out of my hand and pours its contents down the sink.
    “Hey!” I say. “What’d you do that for?” I watch sadly as the pink liquid goes pouring down the drain, circling around and then disappearing forever.
    “Because you’re having problems paying attention to the conversation already,” she says.
    “No, I’m not,” I say, shocked.
    She looks at me and raises her eyebrows.
    “Okay, well, maybe I am, but that’s just because I’m a little bit distracted,” I say. “Not because I’m getting drunk.” It’s totally true, too. I’m distracted by the fact that my life is about to be over, not because of the alcohol. “I only had two sips,” I point out.
    She hands me a soda, and at the same time, I feel my phone vibrating in my bag.
    “Oh, God,” I say, feeling nervous. I pull my cell out and look at the screen. One new text. From Tyler. “ ATTEMPT TO MAKE OUT WITH NIGEL RICKSON. ”
    “Oh. My. God,” I say.
    “What is it?” Marissa asks. “Is it from Cooper?”
    “No,” I say. “It’s from Tyler.” I show her the screen.
    “Oh my God,” she says.
    “I know!” Okay, deep breaths. I will NOT freak out. Marissa doesn’t say anything, just pours me another pink drink into a plastic cup. I take a sip, but it’s totally lost its luster. Also now I have to be afraid of possibly maybe puking all over Nigel Rickson if I try to kiss him and am too drunk.
    “Why would they