That shot of fireball tasted disgusting.

It was my 21st birthday, and the first alcoholic drink I had aside from the free beer the waiter had given us was a shot of fireball. I don't think I've ever tasted anything more disgusting than that. Sure, I had plans to drink - I mean, I was legal now - but I didn't plan on having too much.

Next thing I knew, my friends were giving me shots after shots after martinis after drinks. By the time it was 1am, I had drank two shots of fireball, a tequila shot, a lemon drop shot, a lemon drop martini, cranberry vodka, and sips of drinks with names I can't even remember.

Was I drunk? Looking back at it now, I don't think I was. But I was definitely tipsy. The world felt slow. People's voices sounded muted. I think my jaw felt frozen. I probably shouldn't have driven home. I made a lot of decisions I never planned to make, including the one where I texted you and told you I had been drinking.

I guess I wanted to use my inebriation as an excuse. I wanted to see you, but I didn't want to tell you that I did. I couldn't admit that I missed you, or at least, missed having someone next to me. So when you told me to tell you when I arrived home to make sure I was safe, I used it as an opportunity. Apparently, alcohol makes me stupid.

"Do you want me to help you to my apartment?" You texted.

"I don't know," is what I responded with, because I truly didn't know. I hadn't seen you in six months. I ran into you at the hallway the other day, and you wouldn't stop looking at me, but when I awkwardly tried to say hello, you didn't respond. So what was I supposed to do, when you texted me happy birthday? What was I supposed to do, when I already felt stupid with all that poison in my body?

But you showed up at the parking lot and walked me to my apartment. I couldn't even look at you, I was so embarrased. I don't think I looked at your face even once that entire night. I couldn't believe you were there. I also couldn't believe I had texted you.

I found myself curled up on the living room chair. You just sat there, quiet. I think you might have laughed, and when I asked you what was funny, you said you never imagined you'd see me in a state like this. Well, you aren't the only one. I never imagined this for myself, either.

I said I was cold, so you put a blanket on me. That's when I realized I missed this - the feeling of you next to me, the warm touch of somebody, of being embraced and comforted. I reached out to you and found your hand. I let my fingers lace through yours. Your grip tightened, encouraging me. I said I was thirsty. You let go for a moment to grab a cup of water, bringing the cup to my lips until I was satisfied. I felt so vulnerable, but I couldn't stop myself. I wanted you there.

I was shivering so much. I don't know why I was so cold. You placed another blanket on me and told me I needed to lay down on the couch. I didn't want to move. I don't even know why. I was content with having you there, my hand wrapped around your forearm, the ghostly memory of your fingers as they tugged away the hair from my face.

I listened to you eventually and sat down on the couch. I closed my eyes, trying to stop shivering, trying not to listen as I heard you move around me. You gently lifted my legs on the couch so I could be more comfortable. You sat down beside me for a moment. I wonder what went through your mind just then, as you adjusted the blankets around me. Then, you laid down beside me, slipping your arm under my head so that I had a pillow, wrapping your other arm around my body so I could be warm. I was still shivering. I tucked my face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your cologne, and then I remembered - 

Laying on the couch with you like this, my head on your chest, your arms around me. You were playing with my hair, drawing circles on my arms. You turned around and kissed me. That was my first kiss.

As I lay next to you now, that familiar scent of yours filling up my senses, my hands involuntarily tightened against your back. I wondered if you felt the desperation in my touch. Even I didn't know how much I missed you until that night. You stayed next to me until I stopped shivering, until I stopped breathing so hard, until I stopped murmuring nonsense. It was 2:30am when you left. 

I didn't need to text you, but I did. I didn't need to see you, but I did. And now I'm making up all these excuses, wanting to hold you again, wanting at least someone to hold. But I don't know anyone but you. My hands don't know anyone but you. My lips don't know anyone but you.

So I curl my hands into fists, and I put my phone away, and I hold back. Because I know you're used to playing games, and I know what it feels like to be played.