25. Bonfire Wars

Celeste and I made ourselves comfortable near the bonfire on a log, each with a hotdog in hand and a soda in the other. I insisted on another beer, but she refused to let me have one.

The soda—which was supposedly cherry, tasted stale with a sour after taste. I pulled a face, chugging it out onto the sand beside me.

The juice splattered onto the sand, sending a spray onto my one leg and onto the leg of a girl sitting nearby, practically eating her boyfriend’s face.

She pulled away, scowled at me, then reached for her boyfriend's hand, and then they got up and left.

“If I’m not getting anything, no one’s getting anything.” I stuck out my tongue at their backs.

Celeste giggled. “You don’t handle alcohol well, do you?”

I grunted in response, biting into my hotdog. Unlike the soda, it was surprisingly good, and I devoured it within a few minutes.

“You know, even without the potion, he wants you,” Celeste said, not even halfway with her hotdog. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. And the