I down my bottle of beer with William I Think and head back over to the group I came with.

Sam runs off to the bar and back with another full round of Bud Lights, actually remembering to get one for me this time. Vix makes another toast to the happy couple and we all clink bottles this time.

Just as I raise the beer to my lips, Livia throws a hand in the air. The excited gesture grazes my bottle... smashing it right into my front teeth.

"OW!"

My friend looks shocked. "Oh my God! Did I hit you? I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

I am holding my hand to my aching mouth, frantically running my tongue along the bottom of my teeth. "I think I feel a rough spot. Is my tooth chipped?"

Liv tips my head back toward the light, trying to inspect my mouth. "I don't think so. I can't really see. Let's go to the bathroom."

She grabs my wrist and leads me to the Ladies' Room.

I've spent way too much time in here tonight.

Again, she tips my head back toward the better light, her fingers holding back my lips. "I can't really... I don't think it's broken... Does it hurt?"

"Ot leely."

She lets go of my face. "What?"

"Not really," I say again as I check my mug out in the mirror for myself.

Liv is hovering nervously over my shoulder, appraising the situation in the mirror along with me. "I don't really see anything weird, it's—"

"Oh my GOD!" I cut her off as I notice it. A huge chunk is missing from my front tooth! Well, not too huge or anything, thank God, but there is a definite chip on the outside corner of my front tooth!

"What? What's the matter?"

I spin around to face her. "Look! There's a chip missing from my tooth!"

Livia's brows knit in confusion as she stares at my mouth. "Where? I don't even—"

"Right there!" I point to the damaged Chiclet.

Upon further inspection, she finally sees it. "I don't want to belittle this situation Shane, but I swear I can hardly see it."

"Are you blind? I'm a freak!"

She starts to laugh. "You're not a freak, I promise. Are you sure it doesn't hurt at all? Do you want me to run over to the drugstore and get you some Tylenol or something?"

"No."

"I just feel bad. I mean, there's nothing else we can really do about it here."

"We can leave."

"What?"

She's looking at me like I'm a big turd in the punch bowl, but at this point, I've just had it. "This entire outing has been a disaster for me from the start. I think it'd be better off if we just packed it in and call it a night."

Liv deflates. "Are you sure? We've only been here a couple hours."

"Well, I can't really have too much fun while trying to hide my deformity all night."

She takes a last shot at humor. "Oh. Come on. We'll call you Joe-Bob. Or Cletus!"

"Yeah. That sounds like fun," I say flatly.

She doesn't respond right away and instead turns toward the sink to wash her hands. "Shane—I swear it's not even noticeable." She moves to the hand dryer, but quickly loses patience with it. "C'mon. I'll get you a second opinion."

At that, she finishes drying her hands on her jeans, grabs my arm and ushers me back to our group. Now I have all five of them taking turns inspecting my mouth and offering encouraging commentary.

When I stand firm, the girls finally relent and agree that we can leave.

I wait at the door for a whole twenty minutes as Sam and Isla close the deal with the idiot twins and the other girls say goodbye to Vix's work friends.

God! Let's just go already!

Finally, we walk to the car... And what to our wondering eyes should appear? But a friggin' parking ticket on the front windshield.

Liv plucks the thing unceremoniously out from under the wiper blade as all eyes turn toward me.

I stop running my tongue along my broken tooth long enough to say, "What? Oh, right. Sure... You want to trade? No problem. I'll pay for your parking ticket and you can shell out the cash to cover my dentist bill."

What are they thinking?

It's pretty quiet on the way home. Vix barely gets the minivan into the driveway when I stick my foot out the door. I say goodbye and hop into my new car before I register that the rest of the girls are headed inside the house. I guess they've decided that the night's not over yet. Since I'm leaving, their plan is probably to drink some more "Schlag" and talk about me behind my back.

Screw it.

I pull out of the drive and call Tommy to recount the horrid details of my evening.

Cruising down Route 80 in my new convertible with the wind whipping through my hair and my boyfriend's voice in my ear, things are looking up, however. I make a plan to go over to his apartment in order to try and salvage what's left of the evening.

I start to feel better already.

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