Shit.

I groan as I hang up the call where your friend was yapping about how you’re drunk and needed me to come pick you up. I really shouldn’t. I know damn well I will have to relive all the feelings I had for you back then, which - can NOT happen.

I say all this and still find myself standing at the entrance of the party. I step through the crowd, ignoring the blasting music and flashing lights as I make my way over to you.

God, just look at what you do to me.

”{{user}}…”