"You're shivering," says Lex.

"It's cold out here," I say. We've been out here for at least an hour, maybe longer, just talking about the stars and the future and all the things college kids aren't supposed to care about.

"Well maybe if you'd put some meat—" Lex's voice suddenly cuts off. He balks at me with lips pressed tightly together.

"It's okay," I say. He was about to say I needed to put some meat on my bones, and it wouldn't have been the first time I've been told that.

"No, it isn't," says Lex. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean that. I mean, I did, or no, I didn't."

I laugh through my teeth, hoping he won't hear the insincerity beneath it.

"It's okay, I get it," I say. "I'm too skinny. I need to gain weight. You're not the first person to say it."

Lex scuffs his shoe against the lower porch step. A dubstep song blares from the basement, so loud I'm sure the cops will be called.

"How are you doing, by the way?" asks Lex. "Or am I not supposed to ask that?"

I suck my lips between my teeth and stare out at the surrounding fence. Even after suffering from anorexia for months, nobody ever asked how I was. My parents and friends and Wes...they all seemed frightened of me, as if asking the wrong question would send me into a tsunami of self-starvation. Then again, maybe it would have.

"You can ask that," I say finally. But of course, I lie, "I'm doing much better now."

"That's good," says Lex, exhaling loudly. "If you ever need anything, anything at all, you can talk to me."

"Thanks," I say.

"I feel like you don't believe me," says Lex. He twists his body toward me and grabs my nearest hand. The heat from his skin tingles against my pores. "I really mean it. I want you to be healthy, Addie."

His words filter through my ears, but like the music, I don't fully hear them. I rock forward, cupping my hands beneath my feet. Lex doesn't say anything, but I can hear his steady breath, silently waiting.

Before I am forced to answer, the back door opens with a pop. A drunken giggle sprouts from behind us.

"There you are!" squeals Rebecca. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Lex and I both turn to see a very drunken Rebecca. She clutches a bottle of vodka in one hand and a can of Sprite in the other. Her eyes float over me, but then, they slowly come into focus.

"And you found Addie," she says with a sloppy smile. "That's great. Good for you, Lex."

Lex scratches his nose.

"Where'd you get that?" he asks, nodding toward the vodka.

"One of the frat boys," says Rebecca. She wriggles her hips and makes a kissy pout with her lips. "What can I say, pretty girls get free liquor."

"Well, I think you've had enough," says Lex. He gently rises from the steps and walks toward Rebecca, almost as if approaching a rabid dog. "You want to give me the bottle?"

"I'm not a baby, Lex," says Rebecca. She stumbles past him and plops in the spot beside me. "But I'm not gonna drink anymore. This can be for Addie."

She swings the vodka in front of my face like she's trying to hypnotize me. I stare at the clear liquid, trying not to think about the calories. But it's impossible not to. Alcohol is known for being empty calories, and I'm sure vodka is no exception. It's likely filled with disgusting calories. If I drink even a shot, I'll be forcing thick fat into my body.

"You don't have to drink that, Addie" says Lex.

I frown, but before I can say anything, Rebecca interjects.

"He's not the boss of you," she says, leaning toward me. "You can drink the rest of this bottle if you want."

Calories. Calories. Calories.

"I think I'm good," I say finally.

"Oh come on, you're at a college party," says Rebecca. "Your first one ever, probably. Don't you at least want to try it?"

She starts to swing the vodka again. A part of me feels nauseated by the swishing calories, but another part of me is curious. I've only had one beer in my entire life, and my lips have never once touched a harder alcohol. Maybe vodka doesn't have as many calories as I'm imagining...

"Becks, leave her alone," says Lex.

"What are you, her babysitter?" asks Rebecca. She sticks out her tongue, not even bothering to turn toward him.

Lex starts to say something, but all my attention has shifted to the vodka. I catch the bottle with both hands, ripping it away from Rebecca. She smiles easily at me, and then slouches back against the steps. I can barely screw off the lid with my fidgeting fingers, especially with Lex reminding me again and again that I don't have to drink anything I don't want to.

"I'll work it off tomorrow," I whisper to myself. And then, I take a gluttonous chug.

It burns down my throat, sharp and strong, like swallowing pure acid. I let out a gigantic cough, too shocked to feel embarrassed. The unpleasant taste zings across my tongue and down toward my stomach. Rebecca laughs and holds out her can of Sprite. It eases the spike and lets me finally feel the strangely pleasant sensation of alcohol.

"That was a baby shot," says Rebecca. She slaps a hand against my shoulder. "Drink up like you mean it!"

I take another swig and another. I'm not sure what compelled me to start drinking, but once I do, it's impossible to put down the bottle. Soon, I forget about the calories and all I notice is the relaxing calm that falls over me. The anxiety, the fear, the nerves—they all disappear.

I only relinquish the vodka when Lex tugs it from my hands. Rebecca grabs my wrist, laughing dangerously high, and pulls me back into the house.

"We have to dance!" she screams. "Time to shake your skinny ass, Addie!"

At the word skinny, my legs buckle beneath me. I collapse onto my knees, barely catching myself with my right hand. Rebecca giggles and tries to pull me to my feet, but I shake her away. The world swoops around me, swinging harder than Rebecca's bottle of vodka.

"Shit Addie, are you okay?" asks Lex. He crouches in front of me and cups my chip with one of his hands.

"You feel warm," I say.

"And you look drunk," murmurs Lex.

"I think I want to go home," I say. My body is still high with the twist of alcohol, but my mind suddenly belongs to the dark thoughts. I drank way, way more vodka than I planned. How much would I have to work out to make up for it?

"Okay," says Lex. "I can take you."

"Where's Rebecca?" I ask. A black spot centers on my left eye, not disappearing until I blink six times.

"She's, uh, I think she went downstairs," says Lex. He moves his hand to one of my armpits. "Do you think you can stand?"

"I'm sweaty," I say, trying to push away his hand.

"You're fine," says Lex. "Put your weight on me, I'm going to help you up."

Lex ends up half-dragging me out of the frat house. The black spots keep invading my sight, but I can feel the cool breeze of outside against my sweating skin. Lex sits me on the lowest step, keeping an arm wrapped around my waist, and calls for a taxi.

"Why do I feel so awful?" I ask. My head lolls against Lex's shoulder, and I'm too sick to appreciate the smell of cinnamon that clings to his shirt.

"Because you're drunk," says Lex. His voice is slow and pitched, morphed into child-talk.

"Not that drunk," I protest. "I didn't even drink that much."

Lex suddenly stiffens beside me. "Addie, are you on medication?"

"Shhh," I say. A soft giggle bubbles from my lips, even though I feel too miserable to laugh right now.

"I'm being serious," says Lex. "You shouldn't be drinking if you're on anti-depressants."

My eyes sting as I open them wider. I feel the rush of tears collecting on either side of my eyes.

"Am I going to die?" I ask. I press a hand to my chest, trying to find my heartbeat, but it isn't there. "Lex, I think I'm dying. Or dead. I don't know."

"Hold on," he says. His fingers move across the screen of his iPhone. "What're you on? Zoloft? Prozac? Paxil?"

"Zoloft," I say. "And Abilify."

After an impossibly long moment, in which I start to cry at some point, Lex sighs. "You should be okay," says Lex. "It might mess up your stability for a bit, but I'll stay with you, make sure you're okay."

"Thanks," I say, sniffling.

"Don't cry," says Lex. He rubs a hand across my back in large swooping motions. "I promise, you'll be just fine."

"I'm sorry," I say. I wipe a hand under my nose, hoping that I don't get snot everywhere. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be," says Lex with a shrug.

As we wait for the taxi to come, I find myself studying Lex through blurry eyes. His face is so warm, so welcoming and non-judgmental. I want to wrap myself in his arms, feel his heartbeat against my cheek. He doesn't care that I'm a sobbing mess—he doesn't even care that I'm a diagnosed wack-job. In fact, he's probably the only person in the world who doesn't care that I am.

"Lex," I say.

He turns toward me, face open and soothing. I move my hands onto his shoulders, tightening my fingers when I feel him shiver beneath my touch. His eyes wander down to my mouth, and I know he wants to kiss me, too. I take an unsteady breath through my nose, letting the alcohol take over me. No more thinking, just doing.

I lean forward, lips partially open, and press my mouth against Lex's. His lips are warm and soft, but they aren't kissing me back. No, they're pulling away, just as his arms are pushing me away.

"Addison," says Lex. And I hate the way my full name sounds in his mouth.

"I'm sorry," I say, my words quick and high. "I didn't—"

"No, it's okay," says Lex. "If you weren't drunk—"

"Just forget it," I say, looking away. "I shouldn't have done that."

Lex's arm falls from my shoulder, leaving my back cold to the wind. He starts to say something more, but the taxi pulls up to the house, saving us both the humiliation and awkwardness.