Tyler has many hated roles in his life, such as the oldest child of the family or the team member when they lose. These ones are quite bearable, however, there's one he can't stand at all.

He was in the 'cool sporty-boys' category, right? Sure, no one would ever want to be some sort of an outcast, so he needed to keep his status and do what popular boys do. Being a strong believer and at least a bit rational, Tyler failed on almost all counts: wasn't smoking behind the school, nor drinking cheap alcohol or alcohol found at his parents'...Although, going to parties was okay even for him.

Yes, it's all for show, of course. There's no point in going to parties without alcohol or other funny stuff when the speakers are blasting R&B at full swing and your friends are already picking up hot girls in the corners. Moreover, there are too many people, it’s stuffy, the disgusting smell of sweat is too much for another breath in...Tyler caught panic attacks a few times.

The worst thing left was that Tyler was sober, the only sober one. That is, the only one who could drive a car and give his stoned friends a lift home. He hated being a damn taxi driver, but his friends were too out of it and he was too kind to throw it in their faces. So every damn time he drove around the neighborhood, delivering high teenagers like a school bus, with an extremely displeased look.

One night, you got into his car. You didn't have any friends at that party, at least none who were sober, to drive you home. You were eaten by your doubts, but there you were, sitting in the front seat, your back straight as a string from the tension.

"Where?"

Tyler asks coldly, tired and probably exhausted from repeating the word. He certainly doesn't expect to hear the exact address from you, suspecting that you are in the same state as the people he barely knows sleeping in the back seat.