Jenny thinks this is it.
This is high school parties; this is being truly drunk, being tanked, buzzed, trashed, wasted, boozed-up, hammered, plastered, smashed or what have you; this is letting go for a night, throwing aside silly things like restraints or standards and replacing them with a weightlessness accompanied by the sense that your limbs are all too heavy to move properly; it is a giddy emptiness which she struggles to put words to.
She thinks she has reached that pivotal part in her teenaged life. There is some sort of unspoken understanding that getting this drunk is a right of passage, that although her father will be enraged the next morning when she has a hang-over so bad she won't be able to go to school on Monday (it's Friday), that after he's left her with the aspirin and a glass of water that he'll be musing to himself on how proud he is, that her first time does justice to his, but would never say so aloud. So she keeps taking drinks; she's living up to expectations, she tells herself.
Fresh air, Jenny thinks that's what she needs to clear up her thoughts some, so she can figure out what this distant humming sensation is. She stumbles through the crowd of drinking and dancing party-goers, clutching after anything that's solid (but everything seems to move so much) to keep her balance as she makes for the terrace.
She's not certain if she's relieved or not by how barren the terrace is; there are less bright lights, less unrecognizable moving shapes, but also less things to help her stand properly, so Jenny leans towards the nearest wall and practically lets herself fall against it. She thinks she must seem in a poor state to onlookers, pressed so desperately for support against the cement wall with her knees bent weakly, but she doesn't care because everything's stopped spinning.
She looks around the terrace : there's a couple in the corner, a small group of friends laughing raucously, a few drifters, and a waiter passing drinks out to them. And there's Blair. Jenny releases from the wall and straightens up (suddenly she cares). She is stunning and Jenny knows it isn't the alcohol, because Blair's always been this attractive. She is perfectly styled hair, she is perfectly fit clothes, she is perfectly smooth skin, she is simply perfection; she is Queen Bee (and she would know what to call this complacency, this feeling Jenny can't name but knows has to do with the drinks).
She is the unattainable, but Jenny is drunk, she is all false courage and brave strides as she makes her way toward Blair. She grows only more certain of herself as she advances, the unattainable seems only now to be the impossible (and didn't Serena and her hook up once?) and as she rests up against the ledge next to Blair it now only seems to be unrealistic.
Blair doesn't greet her, doesn't so much as cast a sideways glance her way. Jenny thinks maybe she should strike up a conversation, charm Blair with her wit, but she could never manage it when she was sober, and she doesn't want to try it when she's fairly certain she can't even speak.
But she is all false courage and bravado, so she wrings a hand into Blair's hair and pulls her into a kiss, and she can do this because she's drunk (even though she knows it's a lame cover-up for the fact that she wants, and has wanted it since she first met Blair). She doesn't know at what point it is, but Blair starts kissing back and Jenny thinks she must also be very drunk, but she knows otherwise, she's been watching Blair all night and she hasn't had more than a glass.
So Jenny thinks this is it. This is the pivotal point of her teenaged life; this is kissing Blair and having her kiss back (and dad can't know about this, because 'my-first-kiss-with-a-girl' isn't something you're proud of but keep to yourself); this is simply having Blair, if only for this sparse instant, and it is bliss.
Author's Note : Something that grew out of a few scattered snippets I came up with while waiting to fall asleep.