Grouse Thicket drinking at a playground, tequila for one

 

I've used this theme before for a similar thread, but it super fits here.

This wasn't the only "first time" she'd shared with a stranger who called her beautiful.  She always wondered if they meant it.  She knew she was striking, but she also knew that she was an absolute disaster.  She felt that her ugly, raw insides did not match her enticing exterior.  Being beautiful was not an act she could keep up for very long.

The drugs made it easier, somehow.  Every worry and guilt she carried melted away.  Time itself seemed to expand and contract at will.  Her heartbeat was strong as it drummed against her ribcage, and there was a brightness to her demeanor that had abandoned her some time ago.  

The boy's voice lifted and wrapped around her and a warmth built in her chest and burst, its remnants trickled down her every inch from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.  She curled the latter when he touched her and emit a low note that spiraled around, expending into laughter.

Nothing could bring her down from this.  You tell that to every girl you meet?  Abruptly, she thinks of Sunny and her giggling takes on a hysteric pitch.  You're ethereal.  And she didn't even know his name!