Was everyone crazy? People shouldn’t be able to do that. Why wasn’t anyone calling an ambulance? I mean he had to have some sort of compound fracture, cracked vertebrae, shin splints or something. Trish tugged me over to the last station, but I snagged a cup of punch on the way. She just laughed at me as I downed it. Happy freaking Halloween.
“Ladies, ladies, please come forward,” the pirate announced, mic in hand. “Since our gentlemen took the last round, we’d like to extend the honor of truth or dare to you. Please form a line!”
Trish pushed me gleefully forward. Since most of the other girls seemed to be as shy as I was, at least about performing in public, and because Trish was dead set on embarrassing me as much as possible, I somehow ended up being first. We were on the second story by the railing when the spotlight hit me.
“What’s your name?” the pirate-announcer asked with a game-host smile, shoving the mic in my face.
I blinked, trying to keep his face in focus. “Caitlin.”
Someone in the crowd yelled, “Go, Caitlin!” but I didn’t recognize the voice.
“And what are you tonight, Caitlin?”
I blinked at the announcer again. “What?”
He held the mic away from his mouth and whispered, “What’s your costume?”
“Oh. I’m a—” It sounded so stupid out loud. Let’s be honest, it sounded pretty stupid in my head, too. But the drinks were finally working their way through my inhibitions, so I smiled at him, trying to put some sass behind it. “I’m a vampire.”
I heard some of the guys cheer.
The announcer smiled encouragingly. “All right, Caitlin the Vampire: truth, or dare?”
I’d already decided. “Truth.”
I may have been drunk, but I wasn’t stupid. Dares always ended up being a thin excuse to do something vaguely or overtly scandalous with the even thinner defense of “but I had to.” In seventh grade, the class perv, Kyle Hanson, dared the class nerd, Sean Rubatino, to touch my boobs. It was a dare, and dares were sacred. I didn’t really have breasts to speak of anyway, so I let him do it, but we were both uncomfortable and I felt dirty about it for weeks.
“All right, all right,” the announcer said to quiet the chorus of boos from the crowd of guys below. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from a large glass jar. Unfolding it, he read, “When, where, and with whom was your first kiss?”
There was a chorus of awws from the girls and catcalls from the guys. How had this happened? How had I picked truth and still managed to embarrass myself? It was suddenly very warm in the barn with the spotlight and the press of bodies and the bright flush of embarrassment. I found myself gripping the railing to stay upright.
It only occurred to me much later that I could have named anyone from my old school and no one here would have known who he was.
“I’ve never kissed anybody,” I admitted finally. Behind me, I heard Trish snort.
There was a moment of surprised murmurs before an unidentified pirate yelled, “Everyone kiss Caitlin!” Before I knew what was happening, another pirate pinned me to the railing and covered my general mouth area in a sticky, wet kiss. The awkward laughs around the room immediately transformed into gasps. Suddenly, the kisser was gone and I was being picked up, fireman style, and carried away from the railing and the spotlight and the humiliation. A door opened and slammed shut.
“Out,” Adrian demanded.
Couples muttered and cursed, but didn’t question him, scrambling to adjust clothing before hurrying out of the room. Adrian set me down on a couch carefully.
“Stay here,” he told me, and started for the door.
“Adrian!” I called out, grabbing on to his arm before he could walk away. “He was just joking,” I said, trying to smile. “It was a joke.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He tried to get up again, but I pulled him back.
“If you go out there, it’ll just make you look stupid, because everyone thought it was a joke, and you took it seriously, which makes it look—it makes it look like something it’s not.”
“I don’t care,” he stated flatly, and made to leave again.
“I care,” I said desperately. “Please, Adrian, just drop it.”
“Why are you trying to make this okay?” he asked, glaring at me. I didn’t understand why he was so angry.
I fluttered my hands around in an agitated gesture. “Because it’s not important. I just want to feel empty.”
His eyes narrowed in concern. “Empty?”
Oops. I hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud. “Full,” I corrected myself, nodding. “I meant full.”
I flung my arms wide to demonstrate how full, overshot, lost my balance, and stumbled backward. Luckily, Adrian caught my hands and pulled me forward before I could fall. I giggled, because the whole situation suddenly seemed really, really funny.
“Okay,” he said, patting my back awkwardly. “What did Trish talk you into?”
“Just one drink.” And then I snort-laughed because it wasn’t true. I’d had three drinks.
“I should get you home,” he murmured into my hair. But he didn’t make any move to leave.
“Hey,” I said, looking up. “Did you know there was going to be alcohol here?”