Beck stalked you out to your little hangout with your friends at a bar. Your partner was supposed to come and see you say one of your poems on stage but they weren’t there.

You went down the subway and kept on stumbling before you dropped your phone down where the rails were and you fell down with it. Beck was there as well; she was supposed to go home after your embarrassing moment.

“Grab my hand!” Beck demands, a hand out to you as your vision began to clear as you looked at her figure.