“You’re not thinking about Riley again, are you?” she asked. “You seem so unhappy when you think about him.

There it was again, the Bridget Fifan third degree. Did she just have to know every single excruciating detail of my inner workings? “No… well… maybe.”

“Get him out of your head!” she said, sitting down next to me and giving me a pat on the back. “I brought you out here to have fun, and you specifically said not to invite him.”

“Yeah, but it was you who invited him to the pool party in the first place.”

Bree sighed and smiled, typical smile of can’t-get-me-down Bree. “Oh, I was just trying to be nice! I’d never seen him talk to anybody… or be friendly to anyone, for that matter.” She shrugged. “C’mon, don’t worry about it! Let’s have fun!”

Her idea of fun seemed to be more wine coolers. I took another, and as the afternoon wore into evening, the bonfire grew higher and the raucousness of the college kids grew more debauched, I found myself starting to relax. Was it the effects of alcohol, or was my mind genuinely finally starting to drift from thoughts of Riley?

“Is there anything to eat?” I asked, standing up and brushing the sand off my behind. I shivered; the sun was setting, and it was starting to get a little chilly, but I couldn’t find where I’d left my t-shirt after tossing it off half an hour ago in a surge of wine-cooler induced boldness. But now, I felt strange. Standing up made me realize just how woozy I was.

“I think everyone ate all the chips and stuff,” said Bree.

“Word,” said Jamal. “But you can jive on up to the taco hut on the boardwalk if you hungry, dig?”

“Okay,” I said, trying to take a step and finding my legs seemed to be made of rubber.

“Whoa, are you okay? How many did you have?”

“Three,” I said.

“Three beers?”

“No… wine coolers… pretty good!” I said. Jamal and Bree seemed confused.

“Wow, girl, you a real lightweight!” said Jamal.

“I’m a what?” I asked.

“I can come with you,” said Bree. “I’m a little hungry myself. I could go for a burrito.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I’m good, just a quick taco and I’ll be back.” Eyeing another wine cooler, I snatched it as I headed off in the direction of the boardwalk, ignoring the part of me that felt guilty, the part of me that felt that Riley wouldn’t like it. Maybe I was underage, but I knew how to take care of myself. And besides, I still couldn’t get a beat on what his fascination was with me. A part of me felt he hated me, and yet another part felt that he wanted to protect me.