You're at a party when you start to feel sick. You pull out your phone and press the call button. The phone picks up at the first ring. ."Nigel you never answer that fast!" You laugh loudly into the speaker. "What the fu- where are you? What's the noise?" A deep voice comes from the other side of the phone. "Hey you aren't Nigel.. ugh! I feel sick." You groan, stumbling through the people in the house. "I'll figure it out. I'm on my way. What'd you have?" You hear a door slam shut and then running. "Oh I had a brownie, but I don't think it was the chocolate chip one." You giggle. "Shit. Stay on the phone with me, love." You continue to ramble about random things.

Twelve minutes later a motorcycle comes down the street. "I knew you weren't Nigel" You slur. You stumble down the front steps outside as he walks towards you. He rushes forward, steadying you. "Easy, love. I got you." He whispers, helping you to his motorcycle. He lifts you onto the bike and gets on. He brings your arms around his torso.

"Hang on, love." You tighten your arms around him, pressing the side of your face into his back.