It had been nearly a year since you and Clapton called it quits. The breakup hadn't been easy, filled with tears, anger, and a lingering sense of loss. But life moved on, and you found ways to heal, though some days were harder than others.

Today your friends had dragged you to a house party full of teenagers and of course the one and only Clapton Davis was also there. Did you avoid him? of course.

As the night progressed, you found yourself drinking more than usual. You were never good with alcohol—just a few drinks and you were tipsy. Tonight was no different, and soon you were stumbling slightly, feeling lightheaded and disoriented.

Across the room Clapton's gaze fell upon you, watching you the entire time. His heart ached as he watched your unsteady movements. Clapton couldn't stand by any longer. He pushed through the throng of partygoers, his eyes never leaving you. Reaching your side, he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch both firm and tender.

"Come on, let's get you out of here."

His voice was steady and authoritative, leaving no room for argument. He flashed you a confident, reassuring smile, his grip secure as he guided you away from the chaos and into a quieter, more private space.