Stupid alcohol. Stupid clubs. Stupid Leslie.

Yes, this is Leslie's fault. This headache. After all, she and her sister were responsible. Leslie's sister was twenty-two, and she knew how to break almost every law you can think of. That is how she was able to get me and my friend Leslie, two seventeen-year-old girls, fake IDs to get into a club Saturday night. Never again will I allow Erin to help me break the law. Because she just let me fall even deeper into the pit!

I must have consumed eight beers that night. I don't know. I lost count because I was too drunk. So I don't even know how I got out of the club. It took me a minute to realize that I wasn't at home, though. And that I was in a bed. A bed that was not mine.

I sat up quickly and looked around the room. This was not my room. My room had posters and pictures and...and...well, you know how a teenage girl's room looks. But this room was not mine. It definitely was not mine. This bed was black. My bed was a pale forest green. This carpet was white. My carpet was beige. So you can understand where my scream came from.

It was only when a masculine voice told me to shut up that I noticed the figure beside me on the bed. I just sort of blinked. "Who the hell are you?" I asked, my voice high-pitched with worry and stress. "Where am I? Why are you sleeping next to me? Oh, God."

He sat up and looked at me. "Rachel...are you okay?"

"Excuse me? I am not Rachel. Who is Rachel? Who are you?"

He blinked. There was something that appeared in his eyes. Distress, I suppose. "Then...who are you?"

"I asked you first. And how old are you? You look...old."

For a moment, he just kind of stared blankly at me. "Matt. We met at the club last night, and then we came back here... I'm twenty-one. Aren't you...?"

I just screamed. Loud. Then I jumped out of the bed. And then back in it, under the covers. "Where are my clothes?"

"Wherever we threw them, I don't know... You said your name was Rachel. And that you were twenty-one. And we...had sex. You aren't a minor, are you?"

"I just barely turned seventeen!" I shrieked. "My name is not Rachel, that's just the name that's on my fake ID. My name is Alexis. And please tell me this is Erin's idea of a joke..." He just watched me bury my face in the pillow. 'Matt' obviously had no idea who Erin was. "Oh, my God. Well, there goes my virginity! You bastard, do I look twenty-one to you?"

"Well, no," he muttered. "But I just figured... Shit. You're a minor."

"Yes, and you're a rapist."

"And whose fault is that? You said you were twenty-one!"

"I was drunk!" I gulped and closed my eyes. I wouldn't cry. Never. Not in front of this...this...person. Instead, I looked at him and said, "So where am I?" I took another look around the unfamiliar room.

"My apartment." Matt stood up. He was wearing boxers. He pulled on a pair of jeans that was on the floor. I saw my clothes in the corner. And my purse. "Could you hand me my clothes?" I asked.

Matt picked the clothes up and threw them to me. I stared at him for a moment. "Can you turn around?"

"It's nothing I haven't seen already," he said, but turned around anyway. I stood up and dressed in my skirt and tank top. Then I walked over to where my shoes were and put those on, too, grabbing my purse and turning for the door. But Matt turned around and stopped me by grabbing my wrist. "Where are you going?" he asked.

I just jerked my wrist away from him and continued walking toward the door. But he stood in front of the door, blocking my way. "Okay, I get it. You are pissed off at me for last night...which you obviously can't remember. But come on. It was partly your fault, too. Just let me take you home. That's all, and we can completely forget about this."

Rather than just going, "Oh, yeah, that's sounds great," and letting his idea go through, which, now that I think about it, I should have done, I marched over to the other side of the room. "Oh, no you don't, Mister Matt. You aren't getting out of this that easily. Until I get my period and know that I'm not pregnant, you and I are in this together."

"Pregnant?!" he said loudly. "We only had sex once, Alexis! You are not going to be pregnant! Don't even think that. Don't get me thinking that!"

"Give me your number and your identification and your address and everything I should know. If you don't believe I'm pregnant, then you have nothing to worry about."

"Damnit, woman, would you chill out?" he snapped. "I liked you better when you were drunk."