“I’m rolling.” Jane leaned towards me, as if confessing a secret, and held her fingers out to me about an inch apart. “Just a little.”

“Of course you are,” I sighed, and she took this as my displeasure in not being high myself. She squealed and let go of the wheel so she could search through her glittery purse. “Jane!”

“Just hold on! I know have some more X in here!” Lip gloss, condoms, and cash flew out of her purse as she dug through it, and I groaned.

“I don’t want any! Just take the wheel back!” I’d never done ecstasy, and I didn’t want to try right now, while steering the car from the passenger seat.

“Oh whatever.” She turned her attention back to the road. Then her eyes widened. “Oh! Quick! That’s Andy’s exit!” She snatched the wheel from me and skidded across three lanes of traffic without looking before flying up the freeway exit and lurching to a stop.

“This is still better than sitting at home,” I muttered to myself.

Magically, we got to Andrew Sullivan’s house without dying. We got out of the car, and Jane stumbled in her heels as we walked up to the house. It was pretty amazing that she even remembered where Andy lived, let alone how to get there.

From outside, I could hear the music, and the entryway was clogged with teenagers. Jane separated from me as soon as we went in, but I’m not sure if it was by choice, or if she was just sucked up by male hormones.

I’d been there for all of five minutes before someone spilled beer on me, and I knew that I was in dire need of a drink myself.

In the kitchen, an attractive guy poured shots for all the girls in the room, and he insisted I take one. He made some swarthy comment I could barely understand over the blaring bass, but I let myself take it as a compliment. Bright blue vodka burned when it went down, but it burned good.

“Your eyes are the same color as the drink,” he told me after I had downed the shot, and I laughed as if I actually thought it was funny. My eyes were more gray than blue, and nothing in nature was the same shade as that vodka. “You want another drink?”

“Yeah!” I shouted.

It felt warm in my belly and left a fake blue taste in my mouth. I think it was supposed to be blue raspberry, but artificially flavoring never, ever tasted like raspberries. It all just tasted like blue, the same way that grape Kool-Aid tasted like purple.

“My name’s Jordan,” he said.

He leaned in closer as he poured me another shot, and he smelled really good. He probably did a lot of drugs. Boys that smoked a lot of pot always put on too much cologne to mask the smell. But so what? At least they smelled good when they leaned in close.

He poured himself a shot, then clinked his glass with mine.

“Cheers!” Jordan laughed. I laughed too, because he did and the alcohol was starting to spread warm through me.

When the hair fell in his eyes, I realized that he was probably very attractive, but it was hard for me to gauge anymore. Peter had been so incredibly gorgeous that everything else paled in comparison, and Jack looked pretty foxy himself.

But I didn’t want to think of Peter or Jack so I took another shot, and I tried to focus on Jordan and his eyes and his wonderful cologne.

“You should probably slow down,” Jordan suggested as I downed my fourth shot, but he never stopped pouring them for me.

I felt myself moving closer to him, touching his chest and leaning in on him like I wanted him, and some stupid desperate part of me did want him. He’d been pouring shots for several girls, but now we were alone in the corner. He singled me out, and he was foxy, so I was flattered.

“You look like a light weight.” This is what Jordan said after he poured me yet another shot.

He’d known me for less than a half-hour, and the only thing he’d done in that time was talk about Lil Wayne and ply me with alcohol.

I’d drank before, several times. At least twice, I’d gotten really tipsy on fruity schnapps with Jane, but I’d never been really and truly drunk. Not like Jane.

Not surprisingly, five straight shots of vodka hit me pretty hard.

One minute, I was standing there talking to Jordan. I felt a little warm and a little light, but still entirely in control of myself.

Then, suddenly, everything changed. I’d go to move my arm an inch and it’d move a foot. I tried to take a step, and I ran into the island. I knew I was repeating myself, but I just couldn’t remember anything that had happened a minute before.

Here’s what I can remember: In the kitchen talking to Jordan, and he finally cut me off when it was obvious that I was entirely gone. I yelled things at him, but he just laughed. A girl in a tube top offered to make out with me. Someone threw a football, and it hit me. I walked into a wall. There were so many stairs, and I couldn’t figure out how to climb them. Jane told me I looked pretty, but she was making out with an ugly guy with curly hair. There was a lot of stumbling and leaning on Jordan, who didn’t seem to mind.

The next thing that I remember clearly I was in a darkened room. I know that I had been conscious the entire time, but I felt like I was just waking up.

All I knew is that I was on a bed, making out with someone that smelled insanely good, presumably Jordan. We were kissing pretty intensely, and his fingers had just started pulling down the string on my bright purple thong, alerting me to the moment I was in.

Vampire or no vampire in my life, I hadn’t planned to give up my virginity to some guy who thought it was a good idea to pour too many shots for a girl. I know that a moment ago, kissing him had felt good, but it suddenly just felt wrong.