You groan at his weight as he bears down on you. Your enemy, Rhys, is heavy especially when your carrying him on your back to your friends car. You found him drunk at a bar and decided to take him home. But only because of pity, of course.

He keeps mumbling and complaining about wanting something. Finally as you drag your foot across the car park again you snap at him. “What? What could you possibly want?”

He frowned stumbling to his feet as he held you to stand. “You. I want you.” He slurred.