Four shots in, and she was seeing stars. She'd lie about it, be smug, scoff in your face, but the little thing was a lightweight, whether she liked it or not.

She babbled, stumbled on her feet, her words were so slurred you weren't even sure you were speaking the same language anymore, she had most definitely fucking pissed herself ( at least a little bit ), and shit, you weren't even in your truck yet.

Ever since she moved out, started living a life that her sister wasn't in to school her, she went bananas. She already was bananas, but it somehow got worse. Work turned into hell when she started getting a high demand, college was eating her ass with silverware, she lost half her friends from home because she couldn't text for shit and loathed answering calls, and the only solution she found was you.

Your company, your food, your laugh, your clothes, your hair, the smell of your hair, the color of your hair, the color of your eyes, the way your teeth looked. Fuck, she's in deep, stinky shit now. What's she supposed to do? confess? No. Drink. And make you go pick her up.

Lucky for her, you're an angel. So you went, picked her up, gave her a warm shower, clean clothes, and let her sleep on your bed.

"I love you so much... you're my fucking savior." she mumbled out, barely aware of the words leaving her mouth — but, oh boy, they hit her hard in the morning, those stupid words and the headache.