Chapter one hundred and sixty three:

Jenna flashed her fake ID at the bartender and accepted her straight vodka. She downed it as quickly as she could, before she was caught, and wandered back towards the dance floor, leaving the glass at the bar.

Isaac and Taylor were somewhere in the back drinking beers in celebration of the start of tour, and Christy had joined them in the booth, but was drinking alcohol-free drinks. When Jenna had broken away from the group, she was drinking an ice-tea.

Jenna wanted to have fun. She wanted to let loose.

She worked her way to the middle of the dance floor where she could no longer see the others.

The club was playing a loud throbbing rap tune, which seemed to get under her skin and vibrate her bones. She moved her muscles, and twisted in dancing, swaying to the music. She raised her arms and folded them over her head, swaying dangerously to the music.

The flickering lights seemed to fade away and become tubes of neon streaks, which spun around her.

The people seemed to back away slightly, leaving her alone with the lights and the colors and the sound of the music thumping around her.

Suddenly, two arms circled around her, stopping her from moving. A large hand pressed against her stomach, another on her hip.

She pushed the arms away, wanting to be free and fall into the music again. She wanted to jump into the lights and free-fall: to feel the weightlessness and the uncertainty of the fall.

“Jen!” Came a voice, distant and hazy in her mind.

“Jen!” the voice came again.

She turned again dizzily, falling into the arms which had tried to capture her before.

“Jen… are you alright?”

A face came into view, and she recognized it immediately.

Taylor!” She shouted over the music.

“Jen? Are you okay?” A look of confusion crossed his face.

“I’m fine! Lighten up!” She even caught the slur in her own voice.

“Christy and Isaac just left, come home with me.” He urged, keeping an arm around her.

“No!” She protested. “I want to stay!”

“Jen, I think you’d better come home with me.” He tightened his grip around her. “You’re drunk!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are! What did you drink?”

“I had one shot of vodka! I’m not drunk!”

“Okay, lets go to a different bar then, okay?”

She nodded slightly, and followed him off the dance floor. Once outside, she stumbled on the sidewalk. He caught her and hoisted her body into an upright position.

They walked through a small park, and he sat her down on a bench.

“Jenna, what is going on here?” He asked, crouching down in front of her. “You’re totally loaded, there’s no way you could have had one drink.”

“I had one drink! Ask anyone! Ask the bartender.” She could sense the slur in her speech getting thicker.

“Okay.” He sighed. He didn’t completely believe her, but he stood anyway. “Let’s get a cab and get you into your bunk, okay?”

She nodded.

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