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"Right," Gavin says, with a sigh

"Heather" Jordan is dragging his feet a bit more

"Shut up, Jordan," I say "We’re alain

"Jordan," I say "I swear to God, if you throw up on me, I will kill you"

"Heather," Jordan says for a third ti into my drink"

I look at him in some alarm "You mean this isn’t how you always are after a party?"

"Of course not," Jordan slurs "I only had one beer"

"Yeah," I say "But how ot don?"

"Only ten," Jordan says innocently "Hey Speaking of which Where are my skis?"

"Oh, I’m sure they’re fine, Jordan," I say "You can pick the in your drink?"

"To take advantage of me, of course," Jordan says "Everyone wants a piece of ht pie"

Gavin, who gets a faceful of Jordan’s beery breath as he says this, wrinkles his nose "Notive a et inside," I say to Gavin, "we’re just going to du you back to Fischer Hall"

"I don’t need no escort," Gavin says scornfully, his street slang coht and he’s feeling cocky again

"Those frat boys are angry," I say "And they knohere you live--"

"Aw, hell, woman," Gavin says "Steve-O don’t know shit about h for hi chemicals in my body"

"Except twenty-one shots"

"I mean except for alcohol," Gavin aue about it later First we’ll put Jordan down on the couch Then we’ll worry about getting you home"

"It’s two blocks away," Gavin says

"Heather"

"Not now, Jordan," I say "Gavin, I just don’t want you--"

"Heather," Jordan says again