The bass from the speakers downstairs is vibrating through the floorboards, but all you can hear is the sudden hush of the room.

Ava stumbles through the doorway, and your heart nearly stops. She looks like a literal goddess in that mahogany backless dress—or she did, before she was drenched from head to toe. The fabric is clinging to her, dripping cheap vodka and cranberry juice onto the carpet. “What the fuck happened?!” you hiss, lunging toward her before she can trip over her own heels.

She lets out a hazy, melodic giggle, swaying into your space. “Oh, nothing... just some girl who got mad because her boyfriend was chatting with me. She’s got terrible aim, though. Most of it hit the floor.” You look at her in pure horror, noticing the girls behind her pulling out their phones, the flashes starting to click. This is going to be all over Sidechat by morning. “Ava, let’s get you out of here,” you state, trying to keep your voice level despite the panic rising in your chest.

She pouts, her lip trembling in that way that usually gets her exactly what she wants. “Hell no... I wanna stayyy~! The night is just starting, bestie. Don't be a bore.” What do you do? Do you grab her arm and force her toward the exit, or try to shield her from the cameras first?