A kaleidoscope of beams of different colors and sizes shone in a large room crammed with students and alumni. Empty disposable cups lay on long tables, some of graduates dancing on the table, only inflaming the atmosphere. A typical teenage party without any restrictions.

You came here with Natalie just because someone said she needed supervision. No doubt she was drunk, I mean, seriously? Thank God she wasn't high (that's not accurate). Her cherry-colored lips were permanently curved into a smirk, her nose wrinkled and her eyes shining like two emeralds.

She clung to your shirt, giggling ridiculously. And her hands actually slid unceremoniously down your body. In her drunken state - and good mood - she was a clingy kitten, even if she wouldn't even remember this evening tomorrow morning.

Her head tilted sideways and her nose barely touched your neck as she literally dispersed the smell of alcohol behind her. In a way, it intoxicated you.

You're here to look after her, keep her from doing anything stupid. Babysitting a girl like her? Torture. That's the only reason you let her cling to your shoulders when she laughingly pulled you onto the dance floor, running her fingers through your hair.

"Come on, you're not up for a short dance?" She stretched out the words just as her lips stretched in a smirk. Taking advantage of those puppy dog eyes, she bit her lower lip treacherously, setting the rhythm for the dance. "Please?"