It was late on a Saturday night. You had decided to go out with your friends to a local club for a good time after a grueling week. Long story short, the bartender was persuasive, and your best friend bet you that she could take more shots.
You won the bet, but at what cost?
You sat at the bar by yourself, not a clue where your friends were. You couldn't see them anywhere in the club that was teeming with lively young adults.
"Need another round?" The bartender asked, giving you a smirk. His green eyes sparkled against the shine of the neon lights.
"I think I'm okay," you slurred, waving a hand.
He nodded and went to serve another group of bubbly club-goers.
You let about another twenty minutes pass you by until you decided it was probably time to leave. Your friends had undoubtedly gotten caught up somewhere, and you were tired. You sent a quick typo-ridden text into the group chat and exited the club. The crisp, cool air of the night swept your sundress around your legs and gave you goosebumps.
You began walking, without a real clue of where you were going. You simply turned where your mind told you to go. You couldn't think straight at all and the spins were beginning to get to you.
Finally, you reached a doorstep. It looked awfully familiar. You knocked and waited.
After about two minutes, a light turned on and the door swung open to reveal an extremely disheveled Spencer who had obviously just woken up.
"Lilly?" He mumbled. "It's 2:15 in the morning, what are you doing?"
"It's that late?!" You gasped.
Spencer squinted at you. "Yes. Are you drunk?"
"Probably..."
You shivered as the wind played through your dress and your hair. Spencer took you by the hand and pulled you inside where it was a warm 70 degrees and it smelled of fresh coffee.
"Are you nuts, Lilly?" He asked scoldingly. "It's forty degrees outside and you're wearing a sundress and heels. Not even a jacket. You're going to get sick."
"It was hot in the club I was at," you shrugged.
"What club?"
You slurred the name to him and his jaw dropped.
"That's a good thirty-five minute walk from here, how'd you end up coming to my house?"
"I don't know, I just ended up here. I suppose this is where I wanted to be," you grinned at him. Your smile was contagious; he grinned back and shook his head.
"Here," he said, handing you a blanket, a bottle of water and some Advil. "Take this."
You did as he told you and scooted over to where he was on the couch.
"You feel okay?" He asked.
"I'm fine," you replied.
Spencer took in the sight in front of him. Your bright eyes were alight from the intoxication; your rosy cheeks made your freckles pop; your dark hair was tossed around on your back from the wind.
"What?" You asked, giggly.
"Nothing," Spencer lied, "just making sure you look okay."
"Thank you for letting me in. Sorry to wake you up. I feel bad."
"I'd rather you be here than in an alley somewhere. Next time, call me. It's dangerous for you to be outside, drunk, at two a.m... There's too many creeps out there looking for a pretty girl to take."
"You think I'm pretty?" You giggled and laid your head on his t-shirt clad shoulder. "I like you too."
Spencer scrambled for words. It was as if the alcohol completely removed your filter. You were normally reserved and wouldn't ever floor him like that.
"That's all you got from that?" He sputtered.
"No. But that's what I wanted."
Spencer turned you around and pulled your hair behind your back, so he could tie it into a braid for you. You hummed a drunken tune and reveled in the sensation of his fingers combing through your hair. Once he was done, he stood and scooped you into his arms, then took you to bed with him.
"I doubt you'll remember any of what just happened in the morning, so I'm hoping you don't freak out when you wake up," he sighed.
You didn't respond, because you had already dozed off on his chest. He smiled at your sleeping features and tucked you in, then proceeded to crawl into bed and hold you.
"Goodnight Spencer," you murmured.
"Goodnight, Lil."