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don’t have a boyfriend?” Dean asked, sounding hopeful.
    James! I thought instantly, but quickly disregarded it. James wasn’t my man, he was Donna’s. James made it clear who he wanted to be with after their little public display of affection earlier.
    I was a free woman.
    I shook my head slowly, smiling. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
    My answer turned Dean’s hesitant expression into a happy one. His handsome face lit up as if I just told him he’d won the lottery.
    Oh my God, I was the reason he looked so happy right now!
    “Best news I’ve heard in a while.” Dean said, smoothly. His eyes narrowed, lowering down to my lips, my breathing altering as a result.
    “Really?” I asked in disbelief. Was he serious?
    “Really.” He leaned closer, caressing the side of my face with the side of hand.
    “Dean?” I said meekly, his hand opening and my face now resting in his palm.
    “Yeah?” He said breathily.
    “You’re nice you know that.” I told him softly.
    “Just nice?” He asked as his eyes quickly hardened.
    “Nice is good.” I replied, smiling.
    “Nice isn’t boring?” Dean asked, hesitantly. He curled his hand away from my face and I leaned back, shaking my head.
    “No, nice isn’t boring. In fact it’s a quality that’s actually redeemable. I’ll take nice over anything else any day of the week.” I explained seriously, resting my head back on to the cushion.
    “Nice.” Dean whispered to himself, sounding bitter. He leaned farther away and inhaled deeply through his nostrils.
    Was he frustrated right now?
    I needed to fix this! Before I ruined whatever this was.
    “Well actually_” I began to say but stopped as Dean got up all of sudden.
    No!
    What did I do, he’s leaving!
    He took a few steps forward before turning his head, meeting my eyes. “Nice talking with you Annabelle.”
    Then he disappeared inside the crowd, and I was left wondering what the hell just happened. I thought we were talking, connecting.
    Was it because I called him nice?
    Honestly I didn’t think ‘nice’ was a bad thing to be called.
    I guess maybe nice wasn’t the right word to call him? He probably wanted something more along the lines of wild and sexy, and all man.
    I mentally gave myself a ‘Nice’ slap across the forehead.
    Moron!
    You practically called him boring and dull. No wonder he walked away.
    Scowling and extremely pissed off at myself, I got off the couch and headed towards the refreshment table.
    I needed a drink.
    After waiting in line for a few minutes, the punch and I become well acquainted with each other again. I took the first sip of my fresh cup on my way back to Jenna and the rest of ‘her’ friends.
    The taste of the red punch wasn’t as surprising as the first initial drop in my mouth. I was glad I’d adapted quickly to the taste.
    It was almost sour now. Like candy. I could do candy, easily. The liquid rushed down my throat, spiking nerves inside of me, creating rushes of heat down the trail of my throat like I’d never felt before. I was on my way towards a more carefree relaxed Annabelle.
    Would I be classified as a lightweight? I was getting buzzed already.
    I found Jenna and her crew huddled together behind a large crowd of couples talking, kissing and arguing with one another.
    “Hey guys!” I yelled at them happily, holding out the punch, signifying my active participation in this party. I was no Debbie downer and was about to get down like everyone else here was.
    Because after all that’s what parties were for, having fun and letting loose.
    I gazed at each individual face of Jenna’s crew, each giving me back surprised yet amused expressions. Once their eyes met the punch in my hands, they understood the dramatic change in my party attitude.
    Annabelle was getting hammered. And they loved it.
    My eyes fell last on my best friend, whose entire face brightened at the realization that stuffy boring Annabelle was gone, and fun, wild, vibrant doesn’t give a