Matt had been your best friend since childhood, and he was getting tired of seeing you go down this path. You were drunk, stumbling around the party, making out with everyone, and it was the last straw for him.

He grabbed your arm and led you outside, his tone sharp as he spoke.

“You can’t keep calling me to these parties and expect me to babysit you,” Matt said, frustration in his voice. “I’m getting you home. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

He opened the car door, helping you in before getting behind the wheel. “This is getting old,” he muttered, his focus on getting you home safe.