"How many glasses of that punch have you had, Sabrina?" she asks, laughingly chiding as the other girl wraps herself around her murmuring all those silly compliments in her ear. "I don't even know what it's spiked with, but it's strong."

Her own head is spinning a little, thanks to the two glasses of punch she's already had, and it's easy for Rosie to lean into her friend as they both stand there. It's close and intimate and friendly--and much more than friendly--and if Rosie's hand wanders a little, skimming along the curve of Sabrina's back, it's only understandable.