You barely manage to catch her before she hits the ground, and try pulling her limp body up. She sags against you despite your best efforts. You’re taller than her so you bend down, wrapping your arms around her waist and lifting her so she can find her feet.

“Krystal? Krystal! Wake up!” you command, your voice panicky.

“Hm?” she mutters against your neck.

So she hasn’t passed out, which is a relief.

“Stand, please,” you order.

“But I don’t wanna.”

She pulls back from you slightly, and pouts. Well, it seems like the sad drunk stage has passed. Her vodka laden breath fans across your face and you wrinkle your nose in mild disgust. Krystal’s eyes crinkle as she giggles.

“Haha do that again Amber! You look cute!”

You laugh despite yourself. And freeze. How in the world does she know your name?

“Amberrrrrr you smell good too! Do you use –hic- cologne?” Krystal asks, poking your shoulder.

You ignore her question and try to think. She buries her face in the side of your neck. You yelp—it’s ticklish. She pulls away slightly and you seize this chance to create some distance between you two but she stubbornly locks her arms around your neck and presses herself into you. Giving up, you try to figure out what to do.

The absurdity of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re liter