Jennie's POV
"Dare," Lisa answers before I even ask her. Her green eyes bore through me with an intensity that says I'm the one on the spot, that I'm the one dared to do something.
And I falter, not having really thought this out, or expecting to be met with such a reaction. What should I dare her to do? I know she will do whatever it is, just because she won't want to back down from me.
"I . . . hmm. I dare you to . . ."
"To what?" she says impatiently. I almost dare her to say something nice about each person in the group but I decide against it, however amusing it would have been.
"Take your shirt off and keep it off the entire game!" Nancy yells out, and I'm glad. Not because Lisa will be taking her shirt off, of course, but because I couldn't think of anything and it eases the pressure of my having to give her orders.
"How juvenile," she complains, but she lifts her shirt over her head leaving her black sport bra. Without meaning to, my eyes go directly to her long torso and the way the black tattoo ink stretches across her surprisingly tan skin. She has a large tree inked onto the skin of her stomach. The branches are bare and haunting. Her upper arms have many more tattoos than I expected; small, seemingly random images and icons are scattered along her shoulders and hips. Wendy nudges me, and I tear my eyes away from her, praying that no one saw me staring.
The game continues. Nancy kisses Bambam and Rosé. Nancy tells us about her first time having sex. Jackson kisses the other girl.
How did I find myself in the middle of this group of hormonal college rock-and-roll misfits?
"Jennie, truth or dare?" Bambam asks.
"Why even ask? We know she will say truth—" Lisa starts. "Dare," I say, surprising them and myself.
"Hmm . . . Jennie, I dare you to . . . take a shot of vodka," Bambam says, smiling.
"I don't drink."
"That's the point of the dare."
"Look, if you don't want to do it . . ." Jackson starts to say and I look over at Lisa and Nancy sharing a laugh at my expense.
"Fine, one shot," I say. I think Lisa will probably have yet another contemptuous expression at this, but when her eyes meet mine, I find she's giving me a strange look instead.
Someone hands me the clear bottle of vodka. I mistakenly put my nose against the top, smelling the foul liquid, which burns my nostrils. I scrunch my nose, trying to ignore the chuckles behind me. I try not to think of all the mouths that have been on the bottle before me, and I just tilt it back and take a drink. The vodka feels hot and burns all the way down to my stomach, but I manage to swallow it. It tastes horrible. The group claps and laughs a little—everyone except Lisa. If I didn't know her any better, I would think she was mad or disappointed. She is so strange.
After a short time, I can feel the heat in my cheeks and then, later, the small amount of alcohol in my veins that grows with each round that I am dared to take another shot. I oblige, and I have to admit I feel pretty relaxed for once. I feel good. With this feeling, everything seems a little easier. The people around me all seem a little more fun than before.
"Same dare," Rosé says with a laugh and takes a swig from the bottle before handing it to me for the fifth time. I don't even remember the dares and truths that have been happening around me for the last few rounds. This time I take two big drinks of the vodka before it's ripped from my grasp.
"I think you've had enough," Lisa says and hands the bottle to Jackson, who takes a drink.
Who the hell is Lisa Manoban to tell me when I have had enough? Everyone else is still drinking, so I can, too. I grab the bottle back from Jackson and take a drink again, making sure to give Lisa a smirk as the bottle touches my lips.
"I can't believe you have never been drunk before, Jennie. It's fun, right?" Rosé asks and I giggle. Thoughts of my mother's lectures on irresponsibility flood my mind, but I push them back. It's only one night.
"Lisa, truth or dare?" Nancy asks. She answers "dare," of course. "I dare you to kiss Jennie," she says and gives her a fake smile.
Lisa's eyes go wide, and though the alcohol is making everything more exciting, I really just want to run away from her.
"No, I have a boyfriend," I say, making everyone laugh at me for the hundredth time tonight. Why am I even hanging around these people who keep laughing at me?
"So? It's just a dare. Just do it," Nancy says, pressuring me.
"No, I'm not kissing anyone," I snap and stand up. Without looking at me, Lisa just takes a drink from her cup. I hope she's offended. Actually, I don't care if she is. I'm through interacting with her like this. She hates me and is just too rude.
As I get to my feet, the full effect of the alcohol hits me. I stumble but manage to pull myself together and walk away from the group. Somehow I find the front door through the crowd. As soon as I'm outside, the fall breeze hits me. I close my eyes and breathe in the fresh air before going to sit on the familiar stone wall. Before I realize what I am doing, my phone is in my hands, dialing Kai.
"Hello?" he says. The familiarity of his voice and the vodka in my system make me miss him more.
"Hey . . . babe," I say and bring my knees to my chest.
A beat of silence passes. "Jennie, are you drunk?" His voice is full of judgment. I shouldn't have called him.
"No . . . of course not," I lie and hang up the phone. I press my finger down on the power button. I don't want him to call back. He's ruining the good feeling from the vodka, worse than even Lisa did.
I stumble back inside, ignoring whistles and crude comments from drunk frat guys. I grab a bottle of brown liquor off the counter in the kitchen and take a drink, too big of a drink. It tastes worse than the vodka and my throat feels like it's on fire. My hands fumble for a cup of anything to get the taste out of my mouth. I end up opening the cabinet and using a real glass to pour some water from the sink. It helps the burn a little, butnot much. Through a break in the crowd, I see that the group of my "friends" are still sitting in a circle playing their stupid game.
Are they my friends? I don't think they are. They only want me around so they can laugh at my inexperience. How dare Nancy tell Lisa to kiss me
—she knows that I have a boyfriend. Unlike her, I don't go around making out with everyone. I've kissed only two boys in my life, Kai and Johnny, a freckle-faced kid in third grade who kicked me in the shin afterward. Would Lisa have gone along with the dare? I doubt it. Her lips are so pink and full, and my head plays an image of Lisa leaning over to kiss me and my pulse begins to race.
What the hell? Why am I thinking about her like that? I am never drinking again.
Minutes later, the room begins to spin and I feel dizzy. My feet lead me upstairs to the bathroom and I sit in front of the toilet, expecting to throw up. Nothing happens. I groan and pull myself up. I am ready to go back to the dorms, but I know Wendy won't be ready for hours. I shouldn't have come here. Again.
Before I can stop myself, my hand is turning the knob on the only room I'm somewhat familiar with in this oversize house. Lisa's bedroom door opens without a problem. She claims to always lock her door, but she's proving otherwise. It looks the same as before, only this time the room is moving around beneath my unsteady feet. Wuthering Heights is missing from where it was on the shelf, but I find it on the bedside table, next to Pride and Prejudice. Lisa's comments about the novel replay in my mind. She has obviously read it before—and understood it—which is rare for our age group, and for a girl like her, especially. Maybe she had to read it for class before, that's why. But why is this copy of Wuthering Heights out? I grab it and sit on the bed, opening the book halfway through. My eyes scan the pages and the room stops spinning.
I'm so lost in the world of Catherine and Heathcliff that when the door opens, I don't hear it.
"What part of 'No One Comes Into My Room' did you not understand?" Lisa booms. Her angry expression scares me, but somehow humors me at the same time.
"S-sorry. I . . ."
"Get out," she spits, and I glare at her. The vodka is still fresh in my system, too fresh to let Lisa yell at me.
"You don't have to be such a jerk!" My voice comes out much louder than I had intended.
"You're in my room, again, after I told you not to be. So get out!" she yells, stepping closer to me.
And with Lisa looming in front of me, mad, seething with scorn and making it seem like I'm the worst person on earth to her, something inside me snaps. Any composure I had snaps in half, and I ask the question that's been at the front of my brain without my wanting to acknowledge it.
"Why don't you like me?" I demand, staring up at her.
It's a fair question, but, to be honest, I don't really think my already wounded ego can take the answer.