Never have I ever heard myself being introduced as someone's girlfriend. Obviously, what Peter and I have in front of people is fake. But still, even being a fake girlfriend, even having a fake boyfriend, is something to me. Maybe not to Peter, but to me, it is.

I let Peter do all the talking. So really, all I do is smile, wave, say hello, then quick as lightning, we're moving onto another person. I can see the jealousy in many girls' eyes as they observe me carefully up and down. I feel strangely superior if that's even the right word, seeing that I've never felt like this before. Wow, I think, I'm actually enjoying this.

A waiter, donning a uniform that looks as if it came out of 'Pride and Prejudice', comes around, holding a large tray of drinks. I take one gingerly and sip it, immensely liking the sweetness of the beverage. I tip the glass over my mouth and take in more of the unknown drink. Then I drink some more...and more...until there's none left in the glass. Damn. Why did they have to serve this in such a tiny quantity? All of a sudden, Peter turns to face me.

"Aren't you drinking too much, MJ?" He questions, making me annoyed. Who is he to act like my father? To my utmost surprise, I giggle hysterically.

"What is this?" I ask him. "I've never had a juice so bubbly and sweet."

He leans in and sniffs my empty glass. "MJ, it's not juice. It's an apple martini."

Before I say anything else, another frantic chuckle comes out of my mouth. And to my frustration, I can't stop.

"MJ?" Peter seems worried as he bends to look into my eyes. "Are you drunk?"

I blink. There's three of him. I blink again. Now's there's four. "Peter! There's four of you!" I shriek, and begin to fall backwards as I lose balance. I flap my arms wildly like a drowning bird.

"Careful, MJ! There's only one of me." Peter catches me just before I hit the ground. "Are you okay?"

I smile sluggishly. "Never been better." My smile stretches. "You're so cute, Peter." What? What am I saying?

"I know." Peter replies with that same old Peter smirk that I hate so much. I'm tempted badly to roll my eyes, but something stops me. Seeing that I struggle to stand right on my feet, he lifts me up. I scream. I know I'm only a few metres off the ground, but it feels like a hundred.

"Peter, you're gonna kill me!" Fear erupts and I try to jump out of his arms. Peter laughs.

"Relax! I'm not killing you." He chuckles. "Now what the hell is the matter with you?" He lays down gently on a sofa.

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Warm saliva drips down my chin. I scrutinize Peter's face to see any sign of disgust, but it's difficult to see anything through the wave of dizziness that's washing over me.

Peter says something over the loud music, but I can barely hear him. Great, now my hearing is worsening just as my sight is.

"What?" I yell, but all that comes out is "whaaa..?"

Not only am I panicking now, at the verge of tears, I'm also beginning to get pretty anxious. Was one small glass of apple martini meant to make me drunk so quickly?

"Peter! Peter!" I scream. I can't see him anywhere now. "Where are you?" My arms flail as I narrowly escape from falling off the couch. "Peter!" Tears fall fast down my cheeks.

And out of nowhere, Peter appears. By his side are Isabelle and John.

"Oh, MJ, dear!" Isabelle cries. Her face looks haggard now, almost like she aged ten years. Peter turns to his father. "She's drunk, isn't she?"

John stares down at me quietly for a long moment. "I don't know." He answers uncomfortably. His son glowers at him, his face practically turning purple with anger. "You. Don't. Know?" He repeats.

John seems ashamed as he nods. "Peter-"

"You're a doctor for God's sake! Out of all people you should know if she's drunk or not!"

Wow, I think, he must be pretty worried for me. Then again, I remember, he's meant to look worried for his suddenly crazy girlfriend.

"Peter-"

"How did you ever get your medical certificate, huh? You can't even tell apart a drunk and sick person! Why you-"

"Peter." John's voice comes out unusually sharp that his voice trails off. "She's not drunk, okay? There's just something very wrong with her system, I think. What on earth did she drink?"

"An apple martini." I reply and everyone looks back down at me. Isabelle is pressing her cool hands on my now burning face.

"Who served it?"

I vaguely remember the waiter's face. That small, sly smile when I took a glass. That suspicious act of his hand slipping into his pocket.

Peter seems to be thinking hard too. Then he groans, slapping his forehead. "Shit." He mutters. "Shit. I should have known. I should have known."

"Why? What is it?" Isabelle speaks for the first time since she got here with John. Her voice is urgent and troubled.

"It was Liz's dad."

John and Isabelle look horrified. I'm just confused.

Peter turns to me all of a sudden. "I'm sorry, MJ. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

"Your fault? How is this your fault?" Then I remember.

'Liz?' I'd asked him about his ex-girlfriend earlier.

'Her dad was an asshole.' He'd said with a scowl.

"Oh." I whisper and a selfish part of me agrees that it is his fault even though, yeah, it's not. "It isn't your fault though."

"It isn't?" He fumes. "Then why is it that Liz has been texting me non stop tonight, asking me who you were? I don't think you've noticed at all, but she's been staring, no glaring, at you! If I'd never dated her once, then you wouldn't have been...been...poisoned!"

I don't answer as blood splurges out of my mouth. I immediately start hacking coughs, more blood spitting everywhere. "I'm...not," I pant, clutching my throat that feels as if it's on fire. "Poisoned!" There's no point in saying anymore, denying anymore, as Peter gives me a look.

"Let's get you out of here." Says Isabelle before he could retort to my unconvincing lie. John pulls out his phone.

"There's no point for me to do something." He says grimly, dialing a number. "You need an ambulance."

As I'm lifted onto a stretcher and shoved into the back of the ambulance, I can't help but think furiously.

A perfect night ruined. A first good Christmas ruined. The world is no longer the way I was just beginning to see it as. Now, it's returned to its desolate and miserable state. I don't feel like MJ the great anymore. I feel like I've returned to MJ the poor. MJ the homeless hag.