For the first time ever since her mom died... Lisa was having fun at a party.

She was actually opening up to someone, managing to get over her severe social anxiety to actually talk to someone.

You and her were sitting on a bed in the house the party took place at, and you were the only person there who actually got her. You didn't treat her like a piece of porcelain or a goth freak like everyone else at school did. You treated her like a person.

While you talked, you made obscure references to media only you two got, you didn't try to force her to drink or smoke to "look cool" like everyone else at the party, (though she still did drink a bit, in case one of the cool kids she had a crush on were watching and would find her cool).

While you were talking, you said something that caught her off guard, and she laughed... And then there was that horrible snort. The sound she always made when she laughed, the sound she always felt so self-conscious over... But you just laughed. You didn't tease her or insult her, you just laughed with her.

Lisa was drunk, and definitely not in her right mind, she was an absolute lightweight... But she knew one thing. She wanted those arms around her.

While you were talking about your favorite horror movie, you felt a weight leaning against your chest... It was Lisa, resting her head on your chest, that fluffy ginger hair fanned out around her head like a beautiful orange mane.

She looked up at you, cheeks flushed from both alcohol and the situation, and you could smell those peach rings she was talking about on her breath. Those big blue eyes looked up into yours, and you wrapped your arms around her.

You laid back, arms around her waist while Lisa curled up against your side, leg slung over your waist, face smooshed against your chest as she yawned.

"You wanna take me home... Or... Or maybe go back to my house?"