Dirty Journalism

Alcohol. It does bad things to people. Especially delicious alcohol, like espresso vodka.

The party had died down… almost literally. Those who had left had gone to sleep the minute they got to their dorms, but most of the partiers hadn’t even made it that far, seeing as the couches were littered with snoring teenagers. All except for two rather intoxicated people…

“Holy ssssshhit!” Max exclaimed as he slipped on some spilled beer. Jackie stumbled in front of him, laughing hysterically. Max retaliated by grabbing her cup and holding it above her reach.

“Hey! Gimme!” Jackie whined, pathetically reaching for it.

Max snorted with laughter, and ended up accidentally spilling some vodka on his head. Jackie’s now insane laughter was making her lurch, so she grabbed Max’s shirt to hold her balance.

“You know what?” she said, a dreamy smile on her face.

“What?” Max asked as he looked down at her.

“These shoes? They fucking kill.” She burst out laughing into Max’s shoulder. “I wore them ‘cause of you.”

“What about me?” Max asked. Although rather drunk, he was less smashed than Jackie, only because he had built up some strength against alcohol from various parties over the years.

“You! You make me do all this shit! Wear pumps because you say I’m short!” Jackie slurred. “Come to parties with… with alcohol! ‘Cause I want you to know that I can totally take any… what’s this? Espresico-coffee-cranberry-whatever vodka stuff! And I won’t wake up on a bench!”

Max was practically holding Jackie up at this point. He staggered as his own head pounded uncomfortably. Jackie threw her arms around his neck. She did it to stop herself from completely collapsing, but it brought them both to silence as they stared at each other’s faces.

“I… I think…” Max whispered hoarsely.

“What?” Jackie whispered back, staring at his chin, because that was where she reached in her shoes.

“I think I stopped hating you.”

Jackie slowly moved her eyes to meet his, becoming even more intoxicated by their startling blue color.

“Screw it,” Jackie whispered, grabbing the back of Max’s head and pulling it down to her. Their lips crashed together and they began a rather feisty make out session.

Max moved his hands down the sides of Jackie’s body and lifted the back of her thighs. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Max stumbled down the hall and into the nearest bedroom, Jackie unbuttoning the top of his shirt as they went.

“You…” Jackie managed to mumble between kisses, “are good at this…”

“Lots… of practice…” Max got out.

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Jackie was shocked. Completely, utterly, insanely astonished. What the hell was she doing lying in a bed with Max Leopold? It was obvious nothing bad had happened—they were both on top of the covers and they were fully clothed, although Max’s shirt was unbuttoned and Jackie’s shoes were on the ground.

Jackie breathed a sigh of relief when she realized nothing… inappropriate had occurred, but instantly regretted it. Her head pounded and the room swayed. She scrunched her eyes closed until the swooning stopped and slowly got off the bed.

Max’s face was pressed against a pillow, and he was snoring loudly. Jackie was fairly certain he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, and she was certainly not waiting around. She quietly opened the door and tiptoed out of the bedroom.

Sleeping teenagers still littered the surrounding rooms. Jackie glanced at a clock and saw that it was almost one o’clock in the afternoon. Groaning to herself, she passed a pool of spilled beer, and vaguely remembered Max slipping in it…

And then she remembered what had happened after. The kiss. The make out session. With Max Leopold. “I am such an idiot,” she mumbled to herself as she stumbled to the front door. “Stupid, stupid vodka!”

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By seven o’clock that night, Jackie was feeling a little better. She had gone to her room, taken an incredibly long shower, thrown up a few times, and slept a bit more. Now, she was curled up in her bed wearing ducky pajamas and trying to decide what she was going to say to Max when she saw him. Maybe he was too drunk to remember anything, she thought hopefully to herself.

A knock on the door broke her away from her thoughts. Jackie sighed and shuffled to the door, hoping it was one of those new freshman on the newspaper, and they were just asking her a quick question. Unfortunately for her…

“Hey,” Max said as the door opened.

Jackie stared at him, aware of the fact that she was wearing pajamas covered in ducks, had a blanket draped around her shoulders, and probably looked like she could puke at any moment.

“So, you left your shoes at the party,” Max said when Jackie failed to respond to his greeting. He held up her red pumps, a slight smirk on his face.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jackie said, taking them. She began to shut the door, but Max pushed his way into her room. “What are you–”

“Did you have fun last night?” Max interrupted, a nonchalant look on his face.

Jackie shrugged, still unsure about how much Max remembered. “Uh, yeah. It was pretty cool.”

“Which part did you like best? When I slipped in the beer or when you started to make out with me?”

Jackie was so shocked she dropped her shoes. Max was smirking at her, and Jackie noticed how he didn’t even seem to be nursing a hangover.

“I’m still fuzzy,” she said slowly. “What happened?”

“Didn’t you figure it out when you woke up in bed with me?” Max seemed to be thoroughly enjoying torturing Jackie like this.

“We had our clothes on!” Jackie exclaimed, hoping she wasn’t mistaken in assuming nothing had happened.

Max laughed. “That’s because you passed out before my shirt was even off. I took your shoes off of you, since you said they were killing your feet.”

Jackie stared at him. “Um… I don’t know what I should say.”

“Thanks?”

“Why the hell would I thank you for getting me drunk and giving me the world’s worst hangover?” Jackie exclaimed.

Max shrugged. “I was saying to thank me for giving you such a great make out session. You told me I was good at it.”

“Listen, Max. Let’s forget about this, okay?” Jackie suggested quickly. “My head hurts enough. I don’t want to have to worry about what other people will say.”

“Okay,” Max said, “but if it’s any consolation to you, my head hurts like hell too.”

“That does make me feel a bit better.”

“So… do we hate each other again?” Max asked, a bizarre look on his face.

“Did we ever stop?” Jackie retaliated.

“Most people don’t make out with those whom they despise. And you made out with me.”

Jackie groaned. “I said to forget about that! Get out of my room!”

“Fine, fine, fine!” Max said, heading to the door. “Sheesh.”

“You better not tell anyone anything, Maxwell,” Jackie warned.

“Oh, I won’t, Jacqueline,” Max replied a bit angrily. “It would ruin my rep anyway. I only do it with girls who are desirable in other guys’ eyes. And no, you don’t fall in that category.”

He slammed the door. Jackie stared at it for a good minute before collapsing onto her bed and promptly screaming into her pillow.

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In the next chapter of Dirty Journalism…

“I hate you. Nothing, no matter what, will ever change that. Get the hell out of my way.”
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“You can just pretend to touch me.”
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“Yes, my dears, yes! I sense your connection, I can feel it!”