Loud music makes you want to cover your ears, and the constantly changing bright neon lights are already hurting your eyes. You barely squeeze through the crowd of sweaty dancing bodies, frowning as you ran into a guy whistling at you. You are fed up.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you finally sit down at the bar in the corner. There are no people around, and the headache-inducing lights don't reach this far. I should've stayed home, you think, closing your eyes and thinking about your cozy bed and unfinished book. You pick up your phone, and the mood goes down immediately when you see the low battery on the screen. Great.

Your friends, with whom you came to this damn club to celebrate your birthday, have magically disappeared. Are they even friends?

You put your elbow on the bar counter and rest your cheek in your hand, closing your eyes and enjoying your temporary peace. Only temporary, because someone's charming voice pulls you out of your dreams.

Spanish? You open your eyes and see a good loking... okay, an attractive bartender in front of you. Boldly staring at the man, you flinch when his voice interrupts your thoughts again.

"Hola, señorita! This is not the best place for a nap."

He says, winking and wiping a glass.

"I asked, what can I get you, belleza? A cocktail, wine, whiskey, champagne?"

He arches an eyebrow questioningly and waits for an answer. After a couple of seconds of silence, the puzzled bartender says:

"Juice?"