Ben/Amanda POV

Ben had been really nervous about this. He wasn't sure exactly what this thing would do, but he was pissed off and bitter enough about his recent breakup to try anything. He just wanted to have some drunken sex and forget about the consequences, and wasn't thinking about what it might do to his friend.

His vision suddenly became cloudy, then the cloudiness passed. He felt really weird. It felt like she had lost time, but she was still standing right in the hallway with Ben behind her. Wait, that wasn't right. Ben looked around. Amanda wasn't in front of him anymore. He felt off balance; maybe she was drunker than she realized? He thought the hallway seemed somehow longer than usual- no, not quite longer, but like the proportions were wrong. He peered around, feeling suddenly like a stranger in his own home.

But she was, wasn't she? She was a guest here, Ben's guest. What? Why did he keep doing that? It was like when he didn't focus, his brain shifted gears into some other stream of thoughts. He took a step forward and nearly fell, catching herself on the wall. What the hell was on his foot?

He was distracted immediately by his hand on the wall, though. It wasn't his; it was small and delicate, with purple nail polish. From behind him, she heard a voice quietly whisper "Holy shit." He wheeled around to face Ben.