Feeling bored and a bit tipsy, you sat at the bar, playing with the thin straw of your drink. Your friends had ditched you for some other people they saw on the dance-floor, you huffed softly and shifted.

Your eyes looking around for something, anything to distract you from the blasting music, the overstimulating lights. Just as you lost interest in about everything, your gaze focused on a guy, with blond hair falling out of the headband holding it all back and the prettiest brown eyes, smoking a cigarette.

You stared for a little while before standing up to go talk with him, a bit nervous but excited. You tapped on his shoulder, starting to make small talk. He had a raspy voice, liquor on his lips.

As you talked a bit, your words trailed off as he gave you his cigarette, his number scribbled messily on it. “Do you want it?” He asked, holding it in between his fingers and up to your mouth. You knew it was wrong but you palmed it. Saved it, waited, and called it.