Hey, Darling.

Mia was begging me to go.

“You don’t even have to talk to him,” she was pleading. “I promise I’ll stay with you the whole time.”

I raised my eyebrow at her and rested my hand on my hip. “Parties are what got me into this whole mess.”

She looked pained at the reminder. “I know, Molly, but this one will be fun. Garrett really wants to see you.”

She had me caught between a rock and a hard place. “Mia,” I whined. “I don’t want to go.”

She sent me pleading eyes. “Please, Molly? You won’t have to drink. You can just sit and chill for the entire night.”

“You know that’s not going to happen,” I said with a shake of my head. I wasn’t even dressed yet - I had on a pair of short cutoff shorts and a terry cloth tank top. I didn’t really look ready to go to a party.

“It might!” Mia exclaimed. “If you let it! You never let it, so you wouldn’t know.”

She was getting angry now, and with all hopes to avoid a confrontation, sighed in defeat. “Fine. But you better not leave me alone,” I warned.

“I promise.” She beamed at me.

I knew she’d break it.

She lied.

Not even fifteen minutes into the party and Mia was already no where to be found. I was standing there awkwardly, water bottled clutched into my hand. A few people were giving me raised eyebrows, but I ignored them. I knew people were talking about it - girls whispered and oh so subtly pointed. I did my best to ignore them.

I hadn’t seen Garrett or Kennedy. A part of me was thankful, but there was another part of me that ached to see his face.

I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t want to end things with Kennedy. I liked him too much. He had a been a jerk, but my resentment was fading with each passing day. I wanted things to go back to normal. I wanted to have fun. It was summer!

I was getting irritated. I had been at this party for half an hour already, on my own, with nothing to do. I knew it was stupid, and I knew it was irrational, but I knew what I wanted to do: get shitfaced.

I slunk into the kitchen slyly. The logical part of me wasn’t even taking over as I opened up my water bottle and poured half of it out. While everyone else was looking at me, I grabbed the vodka bottle and tipped it inside of the whole. When I was refilled, I hastily pushed it away and put the cap back on. I shook it up as I started walking outside.

Vodka water bottles are disgusting, but at that point I was desperate. I wanted to feel the burn in the back of my throat as I sipped the liver-killing liquid. It was a pain that hurt so good. I sat on the back porch - the houses always had a back porch. Party houses seemed to always look the same.

I stared up at the sky, the water bottled cradled in my hand. It was a simple pattern - count some stars, take a sip. Name a constellation, take a sip. Listen to someone cry, take a sip. An hour later I had gone back to fill the water bottle two times, and now I was just drinking straight out of the vodka bottle.

It was disgusting and I gagged and sputtered every time I took a sip, but I didn’t care.

What was with me and getting drunk?

I should have known better by then, because stupid things always seem to happen when I get drunk. I should have known better. I probably did, too, but that part of my brain wasn’t allowed to speak.

I was past numb and slowly entering euphoria. It felt nice. My body felt nice. There was no logical part of my brain working.

I stood up slowly, concentrating on walking in a straight line and not tripping. I was done with the half-empty vodka bottle now, and I had more than enough alcohol running through my brains. I wanted more, though.

I always seemed to want more.

Kennedy was in the kitchen when I stumbled in. He was the first person that I noticed, because he stared at me and his entire face went downcast. He looked down at his hands.

That made my stomach plunge.

I hadn’t meant to hurt him.

Okay, no, that was a lie; I had meant to hurt him, I just hadn’t meant to feel guilty about it afterwards.

I did my best to ignore him as I grabbed the first bottle that I could find. It was Malibu. Peach-flavored Malibu.

Somewhere deep inside of me, that sparked recognition. I brushed it off and brought the bottle to my lips. I was sure I looked pathetic, but I didn’t care.

The boy next to me - I thought his name was Nick, and his girlfriend, Andrea - were staring at me. They both had indifferent looks on their faces.

“Sweetie,” The girl said calmly. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?”

I stared at her for a second, before shaking my head and making my way back out to the porch.

“Molly.” I heard someone say my name softly, and I looked up to see Kennedy standing there, a beer bottle in his hands.

“Kenny!” I giggled happily, smiling a lopsided smile at him.

His eyes twinkled for a second, before his face shifted back to serious. “Molly, you should stop drinking,” he suggested.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Molly,” he started, but I cut him off.

“Everything’s better when I’m drinking. I’m happier, and I’m more confident, and I don’t care about all the bad stuff in life!” I exclaimed happily.

Kennedy took a step closer to me. He set his beer bottle down on the railing and reached for the Malibu in my hands.

As his hands brushed it, he stopped.

“Malibu,” he said gently, and I nodded.

“Peach-flavored.”

He sighed, and his voice sounded discontent. “Molly, c’mon. Stop.”

I continued to shake my head. “I don’t wanna! I wanna drink and then I wanna do a bunch of other stuff.”

“Like what?” I could tell that he was trying to distract me so he could pry the bottle from my hands, but I didn’t mind. I liked talking to him.

“Dance, party, talk,” I listed off. “And I really, really wanna kiss you.”

Sober Molly would have been shocked. Shitfaced Molly, however, couldn’t give a fuck.

Kenny stuttered out a strangled, “W-what?”

I nodded and ‘mmhmm’-ed. “Yup. I really wanna kiss you. Or I want you to kiss me. Or we could both kiss each other-”

He cut me off. Oh, hot damn, he cut me off in the way that I had already started missing.

The bottle fell between us, but it didn’t crack. It just rolled over and made it’s way down the porch, spilling its contents as it went.

Kennedy’s hands gripped my face, and mine tangled around his neck, swirling the baby hairs at the back of his neck in the way that I knew he loved.

His mouth felt so good on mine, and our lips meshed together beautifully. I moaned into the kiss, pressing my body harder against his. That was when I started to think that I might have been a horny drunk.

I ran my hands through Kenny’s hair as his tongue danced inside his mouth. I pressed my chest into his and noted the way his breathing labored as he felt my body.

I wanted it. I wanted him. Bad.

We stood there, kissing. I nibbled on his lip, he nibbled on mine. It was a give and take situation - I stroked, he stroked. I sucked, he sucked. He was delicately sipping from my mouth when I broke away from air. It was evident from the look on his face that he thought I was going to get upset. Rather, I tried to labor my breathing as I looked him in the eye.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I whispered to him.

He looked hesitant. “Molly, do you really think-”

“Shut up.” I demanded. “Just take me up stairs.”

He stopped protesting, and linked our hands together. We walked back inside and moved through the party quickly. Kenny started leading me up the stairs. We made it half way up the twelve steps when I moved behind him and placed a few chaste kisses on his neck.

He groaned. “Can’t you wait?” He teased, and his voice was as breathy and as rough as mine.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I couldn’t believe that I wanted to do this.

We made our way up the stairs, and we had reached the top when Kennedy turned around and quickly attached our lips together.

“I needed to touch you,” he mumbled into my mouth as he walked backwards together, mouths moving in sync. It was heaven and hell and maybe limbo.

We made our way into the first available room. I pushed Kennedy onto the bed. He looked amused at my haste.

“Pushy, pushy,” he chuckled and I said nothing, just straddled him as he lay there. My shorts rid up.

I leaned forward and looked him in the eye. He had this unbelievable sexy look in his eye - lust and anxiousness and this delicate feeling that I didn’t want to get into. I pressed my lips against his neck and started sucking on the skin, licking and nibbling as I thought necessary. I had never given anyone a hickey before.

I wanted this one to be good.

Kennedy’s hands rushed underneath my shirt, and he started stroking my sides. I shivered at his touch but didn’t make him remove his hands. I liked them there. I wanted him there. I didn’t say anything, either, as they made my way towards the front of my shirt. He used the tips of his fingers to trace my stomach and underneath my bra wire. They were like ghost kisses - I could hardly physically feel them, but the connection was there.

I didn’t deny Kennedy as his hands moved up and grasped my breasts through my bra. I moaned into his neck and ground my lower half into his. I was incredibly turned on.

“Molly,” Kennedy groaned and I giggled.

I moved my lips from his neck, satisfied with the mark that I was making, before moving my lips up his jaw. I placed hard kisses there, before pressing our lips together roughly. Kennedy squeezed my chest again, before he pulled my shirt over my head. I let it fall from my arms, and didn’t think about how self conscious a sober me would feel, half naked in front of him.

I focused on the drunk, the good, and the now.

I focused on the growing bulge in his pants and the burning sensation in my stomach. Kennedy’s hands were all over my upper half as we kissed, and I moved to lift his shirt up too. He leaned away for a second, pulling the shirt off his head, before attaching our lips again.

I pressed my hands flat against his chest, running over the flat, muscular planes. I really liked his chest.

In a swift movement, Kennedy rolled us over, so I was laying flat on the bed and he was hovering over me.

I moaned against him as his hands moved down to my shorts. He seemed a little hesitant as his hands traced the metal button, but I bucked my hips up in a silent sigh.

I want this, my body said. I’m okay with this.

Kennedy’s hands unbuttoned my shorts and pulled the zipper down. He didn’t pull them off, though. Instead, his hand dipped inside, and my entire body froze as I felt him stroke delicate skin through my panties. I gasped.

Kennedy chuckled, rubbing his fingers over the skin once more before he pulled down my shorts completely. I moved my hands to his pants. I unbuttoned them as well and he kicked them off as I lifted my hips so he could removed the denim material.

He attached our lips as his fingers traced the clasp on my bra. I drank from his mouth, feeling the intoxicating feeling of skin on skin. I never wanted this feeling to go away. I was in this entire different place, and this was an entire different person, doing entirely different things.

I sat up slightly so my bra could fall from my arms. Kennedy’s eyes seemed to light up as he took in my chest and I felt butterflies flutter around in my stomach. His hands immediately moved up to cup my chest, and I moaned into his lips as he moved his thumb over the delicate nub.

He squeezed and rubbed until my chest was aching, straining for more. He detached our lips and I let out a small whine that turned into a gasp as he pressed his mouth against my chest, taking my nipple between his lips and playing with it.

“Holy shit,” I breathed as my legs bucked up.

Kennedy chuckled.

Soon, underwear was shed and Kennedy was looking at me with this look in his eyes. He settled between my legs and asked for permission.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to - there was big part of me that did. It was just that I didn’t picture losing my virginity like this. I expected it to be with some delicate, sweet romantic that I had known for at least a year. I had expected it to happen on my bed, with candles and flowers and Jimmy Eat World playing softly in the background.

I had expected it to hurt, and then to cry a little after wards because I was overwhelmed. I expected it to feel like making love, not just sex.

I couldn’t deny that though - even as I was drunk and the alcohol swirled in my brain, it did feel like love. Not just sex, but love.

It was just - different, in a thousand different ways, and I didn’t know what to expect.

It was hard, though, because in the middle of the act - that wonderful, mind blowing, yet fear-inducing act, I looked up into Kennedy’s eyes, expecting to feel love, admiration, or at least lust. I didn’t feel that.

The only thing that crossed through my mind was,

He’s not drunk.