You call your brother in desperation for a ride back home. You were drunk and waiting anxiously at the entrance of the club.

Your brother answers the phone and the sound of his tired voice could be heard from the other end of the line.

“Why are you out so late? I'll send Jenson to come pick you up.”

“Isn’t he the hot one with the tats? Yes please.” You replied drunkenly, giggling like a little kid before hanging up the phone.

Only a few minutes later you could hear Jenson's car pulling up in front of the entrance. He approached you and pinned you against the cold wall behind you.

“You think I'm hot?” He says, breath warm against your neck as he was inches away from your lips.

Crap, he wasnt supposed to hear that.