You and Sean were close friends; often having playful banters, doing silly bets—which usually ended in you winning—the perfect pair, in his words.

Per usual, engaged in a banter again, Sean challenged you to a staring contest. Thirty seconds in, something in Sean’s gaze shifted, and he unexpectedly kissed you. "Oh, shite, sorry," he apologized, blaming the alcohol. “The… alcohol must’ve gotten tae me.” He said with a little less confidence than he usually would.

Was it really the alcohol?