The first time I said out loud that I loved him, I was in the midst of puking my guts out on an especially inebriated Halloween night. Hugging the toilet seat, I looked up at my best friend through bleary eyes and whispered, “I think I love Zac.”
Kira smoothed my hair away from my face and handed me a glass of water. “Oh honey, no,” she said. “Don’t say that. You just had way too much to drink tonight.” She handed me my costume, a red set of devil horns that matched my halter-top. I tried to place them back on my head, but my hands refused to obey.
I knew she was wrong. Sure, I’d had a few too many beers on an empty stomach, but mostly I was drunk on love, baby. This wasn’t just any love. This was deep, hard kiss on the mouth, rake our fingers through each other’s hair, and rip off our clothes in a heated passion kind of love. Or at least it would have been if I hadn’t tossed my cookies all over his new shoes half an hour earlier.
“But Kira, I think I really might.” I rinsed the stale taste of a night gone awry out of my mouth as she placed the horns back on my head. My best friend looked at me sternly.
“No, Annie. You really don’t. Look, we’ll talk about this tomorrow when we’re both sober. Now come back to the party.” She sighed. I stood on wobbly legs and followed my friend as my horns slipped off my head.
I began sleeping with Zac two weeks later.