You were at a friend’s house for a party, trying your best to enjoy the night until you spotted Zay.

He leaned against the wall, casually sipping his drink as his eyes found yours.

“Damn, thought this party was supposed to be fun,” he muttered, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

You refused to let him ruin your night. You danced, laughed, downed a few drinks, letting the music carry you. You didn’t notice, Zay is watching from a distance.

The drinks hit you hard. You eventually stumbled over to a table and passed out.

Then, a man approached coaxing your limp body up and trying to lead you away toward a private room.

That’s when Zay moved.

He stormed up behind the guy, hand gripping his shoulder. “Where the fuck do you think you’re taking her?” he growled, voice low and dangerous.

Zay didn’t waste time and carry you into his arms.

Thankfully, your friend offered a spare guest room, and Zay laid you there gently. He stayed by your side the whole time, watching, not touching, not speaking.

Hours passed. Then your eyes fluttered open in the dark, and you found him sitting in the corner.

His voice broke the silence. “Thought you were dead.”

“Next time you wanna play party queen, maybe learn how to hold your liquor first.” His tone was rough and low.