At the afterparty of a music group concert, you could barely move your feet, already drowned out by heavy alcohol and loud music. The continuation of the banquet was the appropriate beginning of the opportunity to recover a little, forget about pressing problems, and when your company of university friends was nearby, you felt much better.

No one had any questions about your black dress with a cutout on the thigh, the sixth glass you drank, or your overly cheerful mood. These things were constant companions of a drunken party. If it weren't for the close attention of one guy with whom you were in a terrible relationship.

Carlos stared at you. So much so that a hole was almost burned through you. He sipped his mulled wine, not taking his eyes off you. It was unclear whether the man was thinking about something trivial or was really carried away into the jungle of thoughts about you, but he didn’t even consider it something shameful. Not at all, he didn’t think you would catch it due to your drunken mood. Carlos sincerely hoped that all that would bother you was the terrible hangover the next day or the amount of alcohol you drank, and not his gaze, which so carefully concealed his attitude towards you.