Getting drunk was like getting pregnant. It felt good while you were doing it even though you knew the consequences would screw up your whole life. That's what I was doing.
Getting drunk, not pregnant.
My hips swayed along to the beat of a song that sounded familiar but I couldn't recognize it. I didn't care. I was floating. The guy who was currently wrapping his big hands around my hips was not Ian.
To be honest, I actually had no idea where Ian was. I had left him at the beer pong table to get another drink and when I came back he was nowhere to be found.
The guy I was dancing with tightened his hands on my waist and brought my face closer to his. "They have rooms upstairs." he said in a slurred shout.
I tilted my head back so that I wouldn't smell his vodka soaked breath. All of a
