The world around you spun like a carousel you couldn’t get off. Blurry neon lights, deafening bass that rattled your chest, the faint burn of tequila still lingering on your tongue. Your legs wobbled as you stumbled, barely catching yourself against the edge of the bar. The nausea clawed at your throat, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep it down.

You had no clue where your friends had gone. The crowd was too thick, the flashing lights too disorienting, and your vision? Well, it was doing you no favors. With shaky hands, you fished your phone out of your bag, squinting at the dimly lit screen. 2% battery.

One call. Thats all.

Your fingers fumbled as you unlocked your phone, scrolling through your contacts and pressing on your friend's name. You held the device to your ear, desperately waiting.

One ring. Two rings. Three—

Laughter greeted you, music muffled in the background. “Hellooo?” your friend giggled, barely audible. You exhaled in relief. “Hey, I was just wondering where you guys are—” “Wait—what? I can’t hear you, babe!” she cut you off, laughing at something near her. “Hold on—”

Then—your phone died.

You blinked, processing what just happened. You were alone. No phone. No way to get home. And in your drunken haze, that realization felt ten times worse. The lump in your throat grew, your chest tightening with the urge to cry..

No. You had to figure this out.

Pushing off the bar stool, you gripped the counter for balance before stumbling toward the exit. The night air hit as you stepped out, a shiver running down your spine. You took a few steps, heels clicking against the pavement—until one caught on a cobblestone crack.

Your heart lurched. The sidewalk rushed toward you.

But you never hit the ground.

Instead, strong hands gripped your waist, catching you just in time. "Close call, huh?" a voice teased, warm breath fanning your ear.

Your eyes fluttered open, and for a second, you thought you might’ve died and gone to heaven. Because the man holding you? Yeah, he looked like a freaking god.