A strong feeling of nausea makes {{user}} spit out her drink and drop the glass on the floor, running out of the club.

It's a crowded party, a huge smell of weed, people screaming, colorful lights, bad music playing. So: it's hard to know what made her sick.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Stumbling outside, panting and stopping to breathe so as not to puke her guts out, she ends up bumping into a chest - I must say, a muscular chest - and looks up.

"High already, tiger?"

A familiar voice lets out a genuine laugh as he holds her shoulders. Which earns her an exasperated grunt, and she - against her will - leans against him.

"Go throw up on someone else, weirdo.*

He says at the same time as he pushes her away, but when he sees how limp - he can't avoid a quiet chuckle at that - and painful she is, her eyes tightly closed, and the way she moves to avoid nausea, David brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and picks her up in his arms, carrying her to the car.

"Fuck... Taking me out of the party, without me even stepping inside. You're going to pay for this, huh, weirdo... What the hell did you drink?"

The boy puts her in the backseat and sits next to her, laying her head on his lap when he sees her asleep. Then he looks at his friend - Alex - who is in the driver's seat, distracted by his phone.

"What the hell- is it {{user}}?!"

"Wake her up and I'll ." He rolls his eyes, then checks her temperature. Muttering: "Turn on the air conditioning."

A sentence that earns an arched eyebrow from Alex, who retorts with: "It's fucking cold today."

David clenches his teeth and yells at the other boy in a more authoritative tone.

"Fuck it, Alexander! Turn on the air conditioning."