This is so wrong.

What if this girl actually likes me and gets hurt when I tell her this is just a stupid challenge? What if I'm doing this wrong in the first place? I've never kissed someone before and now I'm doing it with someone who I don't even know.

But when I tell myself it's not that big of a deal, I'm convinced it is. Can't the alchohol work out on me like it does on Lelia? I've heard such awesome stories and here I am acting depressed.

It's not that freaking hard to kiss a girl, Lyndon.

She lets go of me, but her hands stay on my cheeks. Her eyes trail over my face. "Hm, if it weren't for me, I'd call you cute."

"I— what?" My eyebrows furrow. Is that the alchohol? I have no idea! What nineteen-year-old never got drunk before?

At least I now know that I hate it.

"I'm a lesbian," she tells me.

What.

Does alcohol make my hearing bad?

"But," she continues, "you have a great friend who saved you here."

"That didn't give me a crazy realization, if you think it did."

The girl laughs, running a hand through her dreadlocks. "Thomas asked me to come here. Kiss either you or Newt so you both wouldn't have to do the awkward things, but it would be weird to kiss Newt since I've known him for quite a long time. His sister is my best friend."

Thomas? This girl knows Newt? Newt has a sister?

"Harriet." She holds out her hand. "Lyndon, right?"

"Er— yeah." Fast, I nod. "So... Thomas sent you?"

"Yup."

"Right. That makes total sense. Like... a lot." When I look away, I pull a face at the imaginary camera. "Well, thanks for... kissing me... I guess?"

Harriet laughs, nudging me in the side. "Sorry for this weird situation. Come on, we'll get a drink. Unless you hate me now."

With a shrug, I follow her to the bar. The man behind it hands both of us a bottle, and I drink it as fast as I can, hoping that will make this disgusting taste go away faster, too.

"You're gonna sick tomorrow if you keep going like this," Harriet warns. She puts the now empty bottle back down on the bar, and to my surprise, it gets filled again.

"Imma need to pay for all of this—"

"He's my father's friend. It'll be free," she assures. "But don't take too much advantage of it. Everything you drink now will be out in an hour."

Well, if he keeps refilling my bottle, I'm not going to waste it either.

Half an hour later, I'm all sweaty as I sit down. Dancing in a thick crowd is somehow awesome and awful at once, and I'm done with it now for sure.

A blurry face appears in front of mine. "Let's go, Lyndon," it's Lelia. "Go piss Jorge off before you go to bed."

"Alright," I murmur. For a second, I lean against the wall and close my eyes. Feel the alchohol sinking to my stomach. "Where's Newt?"

"Outside with Minho. Not as wasted as you."

"I'm not wasted." I chuckle at the thought. "Could you imagine me wasted? Never."

She pulls my arm. "Yeah, sure."

It took us way too long to make our way through the busy club, especially because my feet weren't cooperating, and by the time we arrive outside, Newt doesn't seem very cheerful.

"Finally," Minho sighs. "Let's go before they give us that stupid system again."

"What system?" asks Lelia.

"When they check if everyone is in their bed at night," Newt grumbles, kicking a rock into the distance. "But they'll likely use that soon. First week, they let this camp seem like heaven, then Janson and Ava act like freaking Umbridge in another universe."

"I hate Umbridge so much," I announce.

"We all do, Lyndon."

"She's like holding your warm sweater sleeve under water," I add. "Like wet socks. Like not being able to clear your throat properly. Like–"

"We get it." Though Minho leans closer to Newt, I still hear his words. "How much alcohol did you give him?"

"I don't bloody know."

"I love it when you say that."

Alarmed, Newt stares at me, eyes wider. "What? 'I don't bloody know'?"

"No. Just 'bloody'. It sounds funny. Kinda cute."

Wow, I'm so confident today. Maybe the mutation is finally happening and I'm turning into Lelia.

"Oh." Newt's cheeks get a color. "Uhm– thanks, Lynn."

Minho claps his friend on the back, then continues walking at a fast pace, which makes us arrive back at the camp way faster.

Newt sighs. "How about I talk to Jorge instead of him? He's too drunk–"

"We have to do the tasks together."

"We didn't exactly get drunk and make out together either, did we?"

"Well, no." I frown. "But we did both get drunk and made out with someone. We did it together, but not with each other."

Lelia snickers. "He was too busy watching to–"

But Newt slams his hand to her mouth before she can finish her sentence. I shrug it off and follow Minho to what I think is Jorge's bedroom in the Homestead.

"What do I do?" I whisper. "How do I piss him off?"

"All you're gonna do in this building is take a cold shower as Newt pisses him off. We'll get into way too much trouble if we change those roles."

"I only like steaming hot showers."

"Well, then that sucks." Minho pushes me into a room. By the way he leads me around the place, it's clear he has been here before. It seems to be some kind of locker room with showers.

Before I know it, he has also pushed me under the cold water, with clothes and all. I yelp, then slam a hand to my mouth, realizing I have to be quiet.

"Stand for five minutes."

"I'll freeze to death!" I say, my teeth already chattering. "Minho!"

"Pussy," he calls.

I hiss.

After five minutes, I bury myself in a towel. Though my skin hurts and I've definitely been more comfortable somewhere in my life, I do feel better than ten minutes ago. Fresher, I guess.

"Come on. Newt must be done by now, too." The boy pulls my arm. Takes me all the way to the tent Newt and I share, my clothes still dripping wet.

"Can't I change before this?"

"Newt has to see you first."

"Why?"

"Wingman things," he murmurs. His eyes trail over me. My soaked white shirt, my jeans, and ruined hair.

"Yup. He's definitely got to see that."