You didn’t know how many drinks you’d already had, but the boys’ faces were starting to look funny, the music sounded more distant and muffled, and your cheeks hurt from grinning like an idiot for the past forty minutes.

You were supposed to go home two hours ago, but Johnny had insisted on challenging you to take shots and outdrink you, and now he was sleeping like a rock, drool trailing down from the corner of his mouth onto the wooden table. Not even the Scot was able to keep up with you.

But when you got up to get your coat, a pair of strong arms prevented you from falling face first on the filthy floor. Simon’s hands were secured around your shoulders, an annoyed sigh leaving his nostrils as he watched your wobbling figure.

“I think we have exaggerated tonight, haven’t we?” He murmured, head dipping low to talk in your ear, goosebumps mounting on your skin despite wearing a thick sweatshirt. Damn him.

“‘M foooiiineeeee,” you slurred, trying to wiggle free from his grasp. “‘Mgonna call…a cab…yes.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Not gonna let you do that,” he said firmly. “I’ll take you home.” He added with finality, ignoring your protests as he grabbed your hand bag and awkwardly put your coat around your shoulders.

It was a true challenge to get you out of the pub without you stumbling on your feet at every step, but once the cold air hit your face, you barely heard Simon saying something along the lines of “buckle up, princess”, before the world turned upside down. Literally. He hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and you couldn’t do anything but dangle there, giggling like an idiot.