Travis took me to a private house party that night. It was hosted in a six-bedroom house owned by one of the guys he knew from one of his classes. They served alcohol. We shouldn’t be drinking, but I figured that Travis was with me, a few glasses of margarita wouldn’t hurt. But I didn’t realize I have very low alcohol tolerance, I think I almost passed out after my fourth glass. Travis decided it wouldn’t be good for me to come back to my dorm looking witless, and he thought it was better for me to spend the night in his apartment. I think he was right.
When I woke up again, it was already afternoon. I slipped out of bed and went to Travis’s luxurious bathroom to take a shower. I put on the same jeans I had worn the day before and the extra halter-top I could fit into my bag before I left home.
I was trying to zip the back of my blouse, but somehow the zipper was giving me trouble.
“Damn it!” I cursed. The thing about li
