The Misplaced Love of Childhood Sweethearts

I seriously overestimated my alcohol tolerance.

After just one can, I was feeling light-headed, and my thoughts were getting hazy.

"What were they thinking?" I fumed. "And I actually thought of her as best friend!

"They don't even tell me they're together—just treating me like I'm invisible!"

Having stuffed myself and downed some drinks, I was getting more and more worked up as I vented to Owen.

"Your buddy just stole the girl you like, and you're not going to say a damn thing about it?"

Owen, looking flushed from the drinks, replied through gritted teeth, "Dude, Bruce is such a jerk! I've told him a million times I like Kate, and he goes and confesses before I get the chance? And plays dumb about it too! Screw this guy; I'm done with him!"

"Well, I don't want Kate either!" I shot back, cracking open another beer and tapping my can against Owen's. "Let's keep drinking and see who holds their liquor better today!"

Eventually, things got fuzzy, and I was completely lost.

The next thing I knew, I was jolted awake by a sharp slap.

I blinked and found myself surrounded by a crowd of faces—my parents, Owen, and his mom, Miranda Augustine.

"Why did you slap me, Mom?" I asked groggily, rubbing my sore cheek.

"What do you mean, why?" Amanda Rodriguez shot back, twisting my ear and pulling me up from the bed. "What on earth were you two up to?"

As I scanned the room, I realized I was in Owen's room. Wait, how did I end up in his bed?

Owen was desperately giving me the eye, urging me to come up with some sort of excuse. But my mind was still scrambled; I couldn't recall what had even gone down.

"Owen, how did I end up in your bed?" I finally managed to ask after a long pause.

He let out a deep breath, then suddenly dropped to his knees in front of my parents. "Mr. Rodriguez, Mrs. Rodriguez, I swear Mia and I just got drunk. Nothing happened! I blacked out, and so did she. We just went to bed—honestly, nothing happened!"

"You little punk! What were you thinking?"

Without waiting for my parents to respond, Miranda swung a feather duster like a whip, smacking Owen with it, and I winced at how hard she was hitting him.

Great, we got drunk and fell asleep together—now we were in really deep trouble!