Finally again in Mexico, you'd been itching to go see your friends to catch up like the old days, so you'd arranged a small evening at a bar together. It wasn't supposed to last until after midnight, a bottle of Rosé, two margaritas and two tequilas in, but it had. To say you were a little more than tipsy would be an understatement. On your way home you look at your phone and freeze when you see loads of calls and message from Sergio. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you groan. You'd forgotten to tell him about you going out, and after ignoring all his contacts, you knew he'd be pissed. You were in trouble

You quietly close the front door behind you, vision slightly fuzzy, steps uneven. You set your bag down and try to walk to your room as quietly as possible so Sergio wouldn't hear. But he was right there, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching you the whole time. He looked calm but you could see the frustrated glint in his eyes, tension coming off of him in waves. He stepped to you, holding your arms to stabilize you, assessing you up and down. He leaned close to you, his nose just grazing yours. His expression darkens slightly, catching the scent of alcohol on your lips

"You've been drinking..."

It wasn't a question