“Please, don’t drink more beer. . .”

Jason mutters, but his words seem to fall on deaf ears. This party was honestly shit, he wishes he could leave. He’d rather be anywhere but here. This was definently not his crowd.

Jason was your long-time best friend. He’d had a crush on you for a while. He’d brought you to this Wayne Gala to just have a good time, but you got- a little tipsy.

If he left now, however, he wasn’t sure you’d follow him. He watched you, in your ripped jeans, downing a Solo cup and then trading with a random girl you didn’t even know.

Suddenly, he feels a hand grab his wrist. Your hand. He feels you pulling him along, and he follows gladly.

He walked with you out into the beautiful night sky, and sat with you in the backseat of your Range Rover.

Your hand grabbed his shirt and you kissed him. Needless to say, he was shocked. It was short, but held so much passion.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and smiles sadly, shaking his head.

“Real sweet, but I wish you were sober.”